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Her lot is on 'you-to be found, untired,
Watching the stars out by the bed of pain, With a pale cheek, and yet a brow inspired,
And a true heart of hope, though hope be vain ; Meekly to bear with wrong, to cheer decay, And, oh! to love through all things therefore pray. And take the thought of this calm vesper time,
With its low murmuring sounds and silvery light, On through the dark days fading from their prime,
As a sweet dew to keep your souls from blight. Earth will forsake-oh! happy to have given The unbroken heart's first fragrance unto Heaven!
Rapt into future times, the bard begun;
descends the mystic dove.
Swift fly the years, and rise the expected morn;
But useless lances into scythes shall bend, And the broad falchion in a ploughshare end. Then palaces shall rise; the joyful son Shall finish what his short-lived sire begun; Their vines a shadow to their race shall yield, And the same hand that sow'd shall reap the field; The swain in barren deserts with surprise Sees lilies spring, and sudden verdure rise; And starts amidst the thirsty wilds to hear New falls of water murmuring in his ear. On rified rocks, the dragon's late abodes, The green reed trembles, and the bulrush nods. Waste sandy valleys, once perplex'd with thorn, The spiry fir and shapely box adorn: To leafless shrubs the flowery palm succeed, And odorous myrtle to the noisome weed. The lambs with wolves shall graze the verdant mead, And boys in flowery bands the tiger lead. The steer and lion at one crib shall meet, And harmless serpents lick the pilgrim's feet. The siniling infant in his hand shall take The crested basilisk and speckled snake, Pleased, the green lustre of the scales survey, And with their forky tongue shall innocently play. Rise, crown'd with light, imperial Salem, rise! Exalt thy towery head, and lift thine eyes ! See a long race thy spacious courts adorn; See future sons, and daughters yet unborn, In crowding ranks on every side arise, Demanding life, impatient for the skies! See barbarous nations at thy gates attend, Walk in thy light, and in thy temple bend : See thy bright altars throng'd with prostrate kings, And heap'd with products of Sabean springs ! For thee Idumea's spicy forests blow, And seeds of gold in Ophir's mountains glow. See Heaven its sparkling portals wide display, And break upon thee in a flood of day! No more the rising sun shall gild the morn, Nor evening Cynthia fill her silver horn;
But lost, dissolved in thy superior rays,
A THOUGHT ON DEATH.
When life as opening buds is sweet,
Alas! how hard it is to die!
When just is seized some valued prize,
How awful then it is to die!
When, one by one, those ties are torn,
Ah then, how easy 't is to die!
When faith is firm, and conscience clear,
'Tis joy, 'tis triumph then to die.
When trembling limbs refuse their weight,
BE wise to day; 't is madness to defer: Next day the fatal precedent will plead; Thus on, till wisdom is push'd out of life! Procrastination is the thief of time; Year after year it steals, till all are fled, And to the mercies of a moment leaves The vast concerns of an eternal scene. If not so frequent, would not this be strange ? That 't is so frequent, this is stranger still. Of man's miraculous mistakes this bears The palm, " That all men are about to live," For ever on the brink of being born: All pay themselves the compliment to think They one day shall not drivel, and their pride On this reversion takes up ready praise ; At least their own; their future selves applaud : How excellent that life they ne'er will lead ! Time lodged in their own hands is Folly's vails; That lodged in Fate's, to Wisdom they consign; The thing they can't but purpose, they postpone. 'Tis not in folly not to scorn a fool; And scarce in human wisdom to do more. All promise is poor dilatory man, And that through every stage. When young, indeed, In full content we sometimes nobly rest, Unanxious for ourselves, and only wish, As duteous sons, our fathers were more wise. At thirty, man suspects himself a fool; Knows it at forty, and reforms his plan; At fifty chides his infamous delay, Pushes his prudent purpose to resolve; In all the magnanimity of thought Resolves, and re-resolves; then dies the same.
And why? because he thinks himself immortal.