hen Gabriel, like a rainbow's birth, Spread his wings, and sank to earth;
Entered, in flesh, the empty cell,
Lived there, and played the craftsman well:
An morning, evening, noon, and night,
Praised God in place of Theocrite.
And from a boy to youth he grew
The man put off the stripling's hue;
The man matured, and fell away
Into the season of decay;
And ever o'er the trade he bent,
And ever lived on earth content.
(He did God's will; to him, all one
If on the earth or in the sun.)
God said, "A praise is in mine ear;
There is no doubt in it, no fear;
"So sing old worlds, and so
New worlds that from my footstool go.
"Clearer loves sound other ways;
I miss my little human praise."
Then forth sprang Gabriel's wings, off fell
The flesh disguise, remained the cell.
'T was Easter Day; he flew to Rome,
And paused above Saint Peter's dome.
In the tiring-room, close by
The great outer gallery
FROM EDWIN THE FAIR. — Taylor.
THE wind, when first he rose and went abroad
Through the waste region, felt himself at fault,
Wanting a voice; and suddenly to earth
Descended with a wafture and a swoop,
Where, wandering volatile from kind to kind,
He wooed the several trees to give him one.
First, he besought the ash; the voice she lent,
Fitfully, with a free and lashing change,
Flung here and there its sad uncertainties:
The aspen, next; a fluttered frivolous twitter
Was her sole tribute: from the willow came,
So long as dainty summer dressed her out,
A whispering sweetness, but her winter note
Was lisping, dry, and reedy: lastly, the pine
Did he solicit; and from her he drew
A voice so constant, soft, and lowly deep,
That there he rested, welcoming in her
A mild memorial of the ocean-cave
Where he was born.
THE world is with me, and its many cares
Its woes its wants - the anxious hopes and fears
That wait on all terrestrial affairs.
The shades of former and of future years
Foreboding fancies and prophetic tears,
Quelling a spirit that was once elate.
Heavens! what a wilderness the earth appears,
Where youth, and mirth, and health, are out of date!
TO A FRIEND AFTER THE LOSS OF A CHILD.
But no a laugh of innocence and joy
Resounds, like music of that fairy race,
And, gladly turning from the world's annoy.
I gaze upon a little radiant face,
And bless, internally, the merry boy
Who makes a son-shine in a shady place.
FROM HOURS WITH THE MUSES.-J. C. Prince.
SABBATH! thou art my Ararat of life,
Smiling above the deluge of my cares,
My only refuge from the storms of strife,
When constant Hope her noblest aspect wears,
When my torn mind its broken strength repairs,
And volant Fancy breathes a sweeter strain.
Calm season! when my thirsting spirit shares
A draught of joy unmixed with aught of pain,
Spending the quiet hours 'mid Nature's green domain.
TO A FRIEND AFTER THE LOSS OF A CHILD.
WHEN on my ear your loss was knelled,
And tender sympathy upburst,
A little spring from memory welled
Which once had quenched my bitter thirst;
And I was fain to bear to you
A portion of its mild relief,
That it might be as cooling dew
To steal some fever from your grief.
After our child's untroubled breath
Up to the Father took its way,
TO A FRIEND AFTER THE LOSS OF A CHILD. 429
And on our home the shade of death
Like a long twilight haunting lay,
And friends came round with us to weep
The little spirit's swift remove-
This story of the Alpine sheep
Was told to us by one we love.
They, in the valley's sheltering care,
Soon crop their meadow's tender prime, And when the sod grows brown and bare, The shepherd strives to make them climb
To any shelves of pasture green
That hang along the mountain side, Where grass and flowers together lean,
And down through mists the sunbeams glide.
But nought can lure the timid thing
The steep and rugged path to try;
Though sweet the shepherd call and sing,
And seared below the pastures lie -
Till in his arms their lambs he takes,
Along the dizzy verge to go,
When, heedless of the rifts and breaks,
They follow on o'er rock and snow.
And in those pastures lifted fair,
More dewy soft than lowland mead, The shepherd drops his tender care, And sheep and lambs together feed.
This parable, by nature breathed,
Blew on me as the south wind free,
O'er frozen brooks that float unsheathed
From icy thraldom to the sea.
TO A FRIEND AFTER THE LOSS OF A CHILD.
A blissful vision through the night
Would all my happy senses sway,
Of the good shepherd on the height,
Or climbing up the starry way,
Holding our little lamb asleep —
And like the burden of the sea
Sounded that voice along the deep,
Saying," Arise, and follow me!"
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