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There is a soft, a downy bed,

'Tis fair as breath of even’; A couch for weary mortals spread, Where they may rest the aching head,

And find repose-in Heaven!

There is a home for weeping souls,

By sin and sorrow driven ; When tost on life's tempestuous shoals, Where storms arise, and ocean rolls,

And all is drear-but Heaven!

There faith lifts up the tearful eye,

The heart with anguish riven ; And views the tempest passing by, The evening shadows quickly fly,

And all serene-in Heaven !

There fragrant flowers immortal bloom,

And joys supreme are given; There rays divine disperse the gloom : Beyond the confines of the tomb,

Appears the dawn--of Heaven!

and attainment in poetical composition. For sweetness of numbers, and sublimity of sentiment, cannot be surpassed, and has seldom, indeed, been equalled by any thing of the kind which we have hitherto met with. It is the effusion of a mind endowed with all the inspiration of the poet, and adorned with all the piety of the Christian. From the numerous inconveniences and anxieties of time, which so greatly embarrass and embitter human life, it carries us forward to that scene where every calamity shall be for ever excluded, and when all shall be enjoyment and rest-in Heaven.

CI.

THE CIRCLE OF FRIENDSHIP.

AIR,The kail brose of auld Scotland.

The cauld blasts o' winter blaw chill o'er the plain,
And nature grows pale 'neath the tyrant's domain ;
We'll seek our lov'd cottage, and leave the bleak scene;
For there's nought lik

the circle of friendship To brighten life's path with a smile.

The heart leaps with joy, by the canty fireside,
Surrounded by faces whose faith has been tried,
Where kind hospitality loves to preside ;

For there's nought like the circle of friendship
To brighten life's path with a smile.

Tho' our table is spread with no Epicure's fare;
Tho'our wealth is but sma', we shall never despair,
While we just hae a plack wi' a neighbour to share ;

Still we'll meet iu the circle of friendship
And brighten life s path with a smile.

The nabob surrounded with splendour may pine;
For friends are but scanty where sycophants shine;
Here the juice of the malt is as sweet as the vine;

And there's nought like the circle of friendship
To brighten life's path with a smile.

Let statesmen delight in the court's vain parade,
Where each plays for self in the great masquerade.
Our pleasures, tho' humble, with trust are repaid ;

For there's nought like the circle of friendship
To brighten life's path with a smile.

While thc coxcomb is lost in the butterfly throng, Where the dance to the music is floating along; We enjoy our bit crack, wi' a canty Scots song;

For there's nought like the circle of friendship, To brighten life's path with a smile.

Then blest be the faces that welcom'd me here,
Wherever I wander they'll ever be dear,—
While our glasses, at parting, will brim with a tear;

For there's nought like the circle'of friendship
To brighten life's path with a smile.

CII.

THE NEW YEAR'S GIFT.

All white hung the bushes o’er Elaw's sweet stream, · And pale from its banks the long icicles gleam;

The first peep of morning just peers thro' the sky,
And here, at thy door, gentle Mary, am I.

With the dawn of the year, and the dawn of the light,
The one that best loves thee stands first in thy sight;
Then welcom’d, dear maid, with my gift let me be,
A ribbon, a kiss, and a blessing for thee!

Last year, of earth’s treasures I gave thee my part,
The new year before it I gave thee my heart ;
And now, gentle Mary, I grcet thee again,
When only this hand and a blessing remain !

Tho' time should run on with his sack full of care,
And wrinkle thy cheek, maid, and whiten thy hair,
Yet still on this morn shall my offering be,
A ribbon, a kiss, and a blessing for thee!

CIII.

WHEN LIFE FROM THIS BOSOM.

When life from this bosom for ever is fled,

Is there one for poor Jack that will mourn ? Is there one that will say, “'neath this sod there is laid

A good fellow as ever was born ?"

„No--the friends of his youth, for a short fleeting year,

May remember, when over the bowl,
That oft there has join'd them in folly's career,

“ Poor Jack, on the whole a good soul.”

But, oh! it was not to companions like these

That his heart and his feelings were known, Tho' oft, to drown care, and ambitious to please,

O'er the most of the club has he shone.

Nor is it from these that a tear he would ask,

Should his mem'ry in theirs ever live;
No, to them far too hard and too grating the task,

Enough that a bumper they give.

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