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A robe of dark-sepulchral green,
The mantle of decay-
The fold of chill oblivion's pall,
That falleth with
Day is the time for toil;
Night balms the weary breast; Stars have their vigils, seas awhile
Will sink to peaceful rest ; But round and round the shadow creeps Of that which slumbers not-nór sleeps !
v. Effacing all that's fair
Hushing the voice of mirth Into the silence of despair
Around the lonesome hearth, And training ivy garlands green, O'er the once gay and social scene.
In beauty fading fast,
Its silent trace appears,—
And—where, a phantom of the past
Dim in the mist of years,-
Gleams Tadmor o'er oblivion's waves,
Like wrecks above their ocean graves.-
Before the ceaseless shade
That round the world doth sail
Its towers and temples bow the head
The pyramids look pale :
The festal halls grow hushed and cold,
The everlasting hills wax old.
Coeval with the sun
Its silent course began---
And still its phantom race shall rur,
Till worlds with age grow wan;
Till darkness spread her funeral pall,
And one vast shadow circle all.
John Malcolm, Esq.
Where are you with whom in life I started,
Dear companions of my golden days?
Ye are dead, estranged from me, or parted,
-Flown, like morning clouds, a thousand ways.
Where art thou, in youth my friend and brother, Yea, in soul my friend and brother still ?
Heaven received thee, and on earth none other
Can the void in my lorn bosom fill.
Where is she, whose looks were love and gladness?
-Love and gladness I no longer see!
She is gone ; and since that hour of sadness,
Nature seems her sepulcbre to me.
Where am I ?_life's current faintly flowing,
Brings the welcome warning of release;
Struck with death, ah ! whither am I going ?
All is well, my spirit parts in peace.
THE STRANGER AND HIS FRIEND.
“ Ye have done it unto me,'--Matthew, xxv. 40.
A poor wayfaring man of grief
Hath often crossed me on my way,
Who sued so humble for relief,
That I could never answer · Nay :'
I had not power to ask his name,
Whither he went, or whence he came,
Yet was there something in his eye,
That won my love, I knew not why.
Once, when my scanty meal was spread,
He entered ;--not a word he spake ;-
Just perishing for want of bread;
I gave him all ; be blest it, brake,
And ate, but gave me part again ;
Mine was an angel's portion then,
For while I fed with eager haste,
That crust was manna to my taste.
I spied him where a fountain burst
Clear from the rock ; his strength was gone;
The heedless water mocked his thirst,
He beard it, saw it hurrying on:
I ran to raise the sufferer up;
Thrice from the stream he drained my cup,
Dipt, and returned it running o'er ;
I drank, and never thirsted more.
'Twas night; the floods were out; it blew
A winter hurricane aloof;
I heard his voice abroad, and flew
To bid him welcome to my
I warmed, I clothed, I cheered my guest,
Laid him on my own couch to rest;
Then made the hearth my bed, and seemed
In Eden's garden while I dreamed.
Stript, wounded, beaten, nigh to death,
I found bim by the highway side:
I roused his pulse, brought back his breath,
Revived his spirit, and supplied
Wine, oil, refreshment; he was healed;
I had myself a wound concealed ;
But from that hour forgot the smart,
And peace bound up my broken heart.
In prison I saw him next, condemned
To meet a traitor's doom at morn;
The tide of lying tongues I stemmed,
And honoured him 'midst shame and scorn :
My friendship’s utmost zeal to try,
He asked, if I for him would die;
The flesh was weak, my
blood run chill, But the free spirit cried, "I will.'
Then in a moment to my view,
The stranger darted from disguise ;
The tokens in his hand I knew,
My Saviour stood before mine eyes: