We think how great had been our bliss,
If Heav'n had but assign'd us
To live and die in scenes like this,
With some we've left behind us!

As trav'llers oft look back at eve,

When eastward darkly going, To gaze upon that light they leave Still faint behind them glowing,— So, when the close of pleasure's day To gloom hath near consign'd us, We turn to catch one fading ray Of joy that's left behind us.

WHEN COLD IN THE EARTH.

WHEN cold in the earth lies the friend thou hast lov'd,

Be his faults and his follies forgot by thee then; Or, if from their slumber the veil be remov'd, Weep o'er them in silence, and close it again. And oh! if 'tis pain to remember how far

From the pathways of light he was tempted to

roam,

Be it bliss to remember that thou wert the star That arose on his darkness, and guided him home.

From thee and thy innocent beauty first came The revealings, that taught him true love to adore,

To feel the bright presence, and turn him with shame

From the idols he blindly had knelt to before. O'er the waves of a life, long benighted and wild, Thou camest, like a soft golden calm o'er the

sea;

And if happiness purely and glowingly smil'd
On his ev'ning horizon, the light was from thee.

And though, sometimes, the shades of past folly might rise,

And though falsehood again would allure him to stray,

He but turn'd to the glory that dwelt in those eyes, And the folly, the falsehood, soon vanish'd away. As the Priests of the Sun, when their altar grew dim,

At the day-beam alone could its lustre repair, So, if virtue a moment grew languid in him,

He but flew to that smile, and rekindled it there.

REMEMBER THEE.

REMEMBER thee? yes, while there's life in this heart, It shall never forget thee, all lorn as thou art; More dear in thy sorrow, thy gloom, and thy showers,

Than the rest of the world in their sunniest hours.

Wert thou all that I wish thee, great, glorious, and free,

First flower of the earth, and first gem of the sea, I might hail thee with prouder, with happier brow, But oh! could I love thee more deeply than now?

No, thy chains as they rankle, thy blood as it runs, But make thee more painfully dear to thy sons Whose hearts, like the young of the desert-bird's

nest,

Drink love in each life-drop that flows from thy breast.

WREATH THE BOWL.

WREATH the bowl
With flowers of soul,
The brightest Wit can find us;
We'll take a flight

Tow'rds heaven to-night,
And leave dull earth behind us.
Should Love amid

The wreaths be hid,
That Joy, th' enchanter, brings us,
No danger fear,

While wine is near,
We'll drown him if he stings us;

Then, wreath the bowl
With flowers of soul,
The brightest Wit can find us;
We'll take a flight

Tow'rds heaven to-night,
And leave dull earth behind us.

"Twas nectar fed Of old, 'tis said, Their Junos, Joves, Apollos; And man may brew His nectar too,

The rich receipt's as follows: Take wine like this,

Let looks of bliss Around it well be blended,