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Even now, when the fever of youth is gone by,

And I glow with more temperate fire, Delighted I dwell on thy soul-beaming eye ; And, heaving perhaps still too ardent a sigh,

Survey thee with chasten’d desire.

Oh! come then and give me, dear Maiden, thy charms;

For life is, alas ! on the wing : Our summer, ere long, will be filed; in these arms Let me shield thee, my Fair One, from winter's alarms :

Oh! listen to love while 'tis spring.

F. R. S.



The Shepherds went their hasty way,

And found the lowly stable shed, Where the Virgin Mother lay:

And now they check'd their eager tread, For to the Babe, that at her bosom clung, A Mother's song the Virgin Mother sung!


They told her how a glorious Light,

Strearning from an heavenly Throng, Around them shone, suspending night!

While sweeter than a Mother's song, Blest Angels heralded the Saviour's birth, Glory to God on high and PEACE ON EARTH!


She listen'd to the tale divine,

And closer still the Babe she pressed; And while she cry'd, The Babe is mine !

The milk rush'd faster to her breast : Joy rose within her, like a summer's morn; PEACE, Peace on Earth! the Prince of Peace is born!


Thou Mother of the Prince of Peace,

Poor, simple, and of low estate;
That Strife should vanish, Battle cease,

Oh why should this thy soul elate?
Sweet Music's loudest note, the Poet's story,
Didst thou ne'er love to hear of Fame and Glory?


And is not WAR a youthful King,

A stately Hero clad in mail? Beneath his footsteps laurels spring,

Him Earth's majestic Monarchs hail Their Friend, their Playmate ! and his bold bright eye Compels the Maiden's love-confessing sigh.


“ Tell this in some more courtly scene,

“ To Maids and Youths in robes of state ! “ I am a Woman, poor and mean,

“ And therefore is my soul elate. • War is a ruffian Thief with gore defil'd, " That from the aged Father tears his Child.


A murderous Thief, by fiends ador’d,

“ He kills the Sire, and starves the Son; “ The Husband kills, and from her board

“ Steals all his Widow's toil had won ; « Plunders God's world of Beauty, rends away “ All safety from the night, all comfort from the day!


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“ Then wisely is my soul elate,

“ That strife should vanish, battle cease :

and of a low estate, “ The Mother of the Prince of Peace ! Joy rises in me, like a summer's morn: “Peace, PEACE ON EARTH! the Prince of Peace is born",

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Strange prophecy ! could half the screams

Of half the men, that since have died To realize War's kingly dreams,

Have risen at once in one vast tide, The choral music of Heavens multitude Had been o'erpower'd and lost amid the uproar rude!


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