THE TREASURE,

'Tis richer than the fragrant gale,
Tho' that Arabia's sweetness bear,
And India's spices, that exhale
Their odors to the balmy air:

'Tis sweeter than the hillock side,
Tho' verdure smile its beauty there,
And silver stream with pebbly glide,
Softly and slow is murmuring near:

"Tis better than the morning song To raise delight, tho' all the grove, With every echo, flow along

-Yes,-all the choristers that rove :

'Tis softer than the twinkling star;

Than Cynthia's beamlets floating clear;

Than azure, gleaming from afar,

Tho' light from milky way it bear :

'Tis better than the wealth that flows,

From India to the Southern pole,

Tho' all beneath the earth that glows,
With all above, its riches roll :

Before the blast from trump of fame,

This rich possession I would chuse,
Tho' mounting on the burning beam,
To darkest, deepest night it go :

Give me a throne on Andes rais'd

-A sceptre o'er the world I'd wield,
-Then, to gain this so justly prais'd;
I'd joyful fly to glean the field :

Let friendship and affection twine

Their finest fibres round my heart,

With all the joys, let these combine,
They ever knew, I'd with them part:

Yet there's a gem-the cottage pure, Where calm contentment peaceful dwells,—

But e'en before this I'd prefer,

The treasure that my bosom tells.

'Tis richer than the vault of Heav'n,

'Tis richer than the gems that shine, With diamonds glowing morn and even, Around the fair celestial shrine

And, Oh my God! what is this treasure, Whose riches so surpass all measure ? Oh God!-what is it but thy smile!!

THE GEM.

HOW sad and slow the moments fly

When illness lingers on their wing!

When happy-they glide lightly by,

Like pebble from an urchen's sling.

Has not, to equalize their flight,

Kind Heaven some treasure lent? Some gem to cheer affliction's night ? Why, yes-and what is it-Content !

MALICE.

HIS heart is Hell, where all the passions rage;

His mind is Chaos, where confusion dwells;

His body is the vast abyss of evil,

Combining possibility with probable,

And probable with certainty

In the deep of depths,

Where horrors brood, and blackness ruminates,

He rollsand, from his hollow den,

Looks out, and scowls at happiness !

Fain would he, down the gorge of ruin,

Tumble the vault of Heaven

But he is weak.

The vengeance of a GoD is arm'd against him,

And, his just punishment,

Will drag a whole eternity in train!

F

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