Be calm, nor spend thy lab'ring breath

In ravings wild—a little

more,

And thou shalt reach that unknown shore

Seek Him whose pow'r alone can save— Yes, while thou canst, thy sin deplore: There's no repentance in the grave.

O listen to the Saviour's voice-
-Son of adversity, draw near,
And I will make thy heart rejoice,
And I will wipe each falling tear.
Art thou a penitent sincere?

My promise, Sinner, sets thee free.-
-Then humbly hope; thy title's clear;
The great atonement was for thee.

Pen. O Thou, before whose throne I kneel,
Accept, though late, repentance deep:
Remorse hath touch'd this heart of steel,

These stubborn eyes have learn'd to weep.
Cold death-like shiv'rings o'er me creep,
Strange phantoms swim before my sight;
One pang, and then the last, long sleep;
But morn succeeds a moonless night!

Bear me above, ye heav'nly choir,

To where yon sounds celestial ring!

Hark! 'tis an angel strikes the lyre,
A sinner reconcil'd to sing!

I mount on Hope's exulting wing,

What floods of glory meet my eyes!

Att. 'Tis past, and death hath lost his sting:

The Soul hath reach'd her native skies.

INSCRIPTION FOR AN ALBUM.

HASTE thee hither, Sisters three,
Music, Painting, Poesy!
Music, chauntress, that was born
On creation's glorious morn,
When the stars in choral hymn,
And the sweet-voic'd cherubim,
Sang the goodness and the might
That from chaos call'd the light:-
Painting, that is wont to trace
Gentleness, expression, grace,

And, with never-fading hue,
Ev'ry flow'r that drinks the dew:-
Poesy, companion meet,

Making solitude more sweet,

Rapt with some inspiring theme,

Avon! by thy silver stream-
Each from her celestial sphere
Deign awhile to linger here,
And with various pow'rs combin'd,

Charm the ear, the eye, the mind.

TO A FLY.

Busy, bustling, buzzing Fly,
Which is happiest, you or I?
Ever roving, like the bee,
Is the merry lark more free
When to heav'n he soars and sings,
While the vocal woodland rings,
Answering from each dewy thorn
His sweet welcome to the morn?
Constant to the wedded state,

He marries in a hedge his mate—
Who shall count the num'rous fair

Of thy harems in the air?
He the Strephon of a bough,
Of ev'ry room the Juan thou!

Little costs your slender meal,
All you eat and drink you steal!
Banqueting on ev'ry dish
Gratis, whether fowl or fish.
Round my nectar'd goblet's brim
Slow you creep with cautious limb,

Fearing lest your little feet

Get entangled with the sweet!
Round my nose on rapid wing

First you buzz, and then you sting!
Then to Celia's cheek repair,

Seek a soft asylum there,
In her auburn tresses skip,
Taste the nectar of her lip,
Bask in the sunshine of her eye,
With all th' effront'ry of a Fly !—
Which is happiest, you or I?

Child of liberty and sport,

Who shall say thy time is short?
Short indeed thy transient span
To the droning life of man;
Yet each minute is an age

In thy hist❜ry's tiny page!
Spring's delightful verdant shoots,
Summer's blossoms, Autumn's fruits,
Fair and glorious to the eye,

Have no longer date, but die.

May no urchin, imp of sin!
E'er transfix thee with a pin;
Spider in his web enthrall,