Or woody glens, and palmy grove, prevail'd
O'er every pang the exile bosom felt,—
Hath tuned Religion's universal voice!
Canadian forests, or the parched wilds
Of Afric, ocean rocks, and cavern gloom,—
Wherever God descends, or Man adores,
Thy melodies the yearning heart relieve.
And oh! what blessings have thy hymns evoked
From Heaven's vast treasury of light and love,
Since first they sounded on the shepherd's lyre!

DEATH OF A PARENT ATTENDED BY HIS DAUGHTER.

Lo! on his curtain'd couch, with pillow'd head,
And pallid limbs in dewy languor spread,

The dying parent, like a wailing breeze,
Moans in the feverish grasp of wan Disease;
While sad and watching, with a sleepless eye,
A lovely daughter sits, and muses by:
So Gabriel sat within the Saviour's tomb,
When his pure spirit walk'd the eternal gloom!

There as some ancient abbey's muffled bell Tolls o'er the sleeping world the day's farewell, Frequent she glances at his wrinkled brow, And those dear eyes, so dim and deathful now, Till all his love and all his care returns,

And memory through her brain and bosom burns.
That drooping hand, so delicately weak,
How often had it smooth'd her infant cheek;
Or danced her, lightly tripping by his side,
And prattling sweetly with delighted pride.

Or pluck'd the baby flower that charm'd her age;
Or gently oped instruction's pictured page;
Or pointed to some mild and mournful star,
That thron'd its beauty in the sky afar.

And see! no more the arrowy throes of pain Pierce his bound head, or force the plaintive strain: Slumber hath heal'd them with assuasive balm, And chain'd the senses in oblivion's calm : Pleas'd at his quiet mien, with timid breath, She stirs to see-alas! the sleep of Death; Pulseless and pale, beneath the taper's glow, Lies her lov'd parent,—but a lifeless show!

She shook not, shriek'd not, rais'd no maniac cry, Nor wrung her hand, nor heav'd one heart-deep sigh; But stood aghast, too awful for relief,

Mute, stiff, and white,-a monument of Grief!

DANTE.

WITH paleness on his awful brow,
Who riseth like a spectre now
From darkness, where his fancy dared
To wander with an eye unscared,
And gaze on visions, such as roll
Around that blighted Angel's soul,
Who baffles in his dread domain
An immortality of pain?—
'Tis Dante !-whose terrific flight,
Through caverns of Cimmerian night,
Imagination vainly tries

To track with unappalled eyes!

Severe, august, and sternly great,
The gloom of his remorseless fate
Around him hung that dismal air
That broodeth o'er intense despair;
Till frenzy half began to raise
A wildness in his fearful gaze,
As, roaming over crag and wood,
He battled with bleak solitude!

*

But from the wreck of ruin'd days What gorgeous vision did he raise! Since ne'er was beauty so divine Embodied in a breathing shrine As throned Beatrice on high, In the dark blaze of Deity!— Her forehead wreath'd with starry light And she herself,-oh! what a sight On Dante glitter'd, when afar He listen'd to her mystic car; As, wafted in a cloud of flowers, And guarded by angelic Powers, In veil of fire, her spirit came, And warbled his remember'd name! He bowed beneath her awful look, Then gazed, until his being shook Like water, when the winds convulse And stir it, like a quivering pulse!But when the wing'd Enchantress soar'd To where the Godhead was adored, Without a shadow, speck, or bound, Eternity lay imaged round!

There, on a beatific throne

Again he saw her, bright and lone.-
Ineffably one look she cast,
Angelic features ne'er surpass'd,
On him, who knelt entranced awhile
Within the glory of her smile;
Till, lo! in deep excess of light
She faded from his yearning sight!—

DR. JOHNSON.

I KNOW not why, but since a dream of fame, My heart hath gloried in great Johnson's name, And deeper worship to his spirit vow'd Than others have to loftier worth allow'd. In what a mould was his high nature cast, Who never ventur'd, but he all surpass'd! And reign'd amid the realms of thought alone, Nor left an equal to ascend his throne. How grandly deep, how tenderly divine! The lofty meaning, the majestic line!— A moral sweetness, a persuasive flow Of happy diction, whether joy or woe Call'd energies from his unfathom'd mind, Where'er they muse, delighted myriads find; And though the sadness of his spirit threw Round earth's rare sunshine too severe a hue, How Life and Character before him stand, Their myst❜ries open, and their scenes expand: And well for wisdom, could the loud pretence Of puny language, with profoundest sense, Such massy substance in the meaning show, As that which ages to a Johnson owe.

DEATH OF THE RIGHTEOUS.

OH! beautiful beyond depicting words
To paint, the hour that wafts a soul to heaven!
The world grows dim, the scenes of time depart,
The hour of peace, the walk of social joy,
The mild companion, and the deep-soul'd friend,
The lov'd and lovely-see his face no more.
The mingling spell of sun, of sea and air,

Is broken; voice and gaze, and smiles that speak,
Must perish; parents take their hush'd adieu ;
A wife, a child, a daughter half divine,

Or son that never drew a father's tear,-
Approach him, and his dying tones receive
Like God's own language!-'tis an hour of awe,
Yet terrorless, when revelations flow

From faith immortal; view that pale-worn brow,
It gleams with glory!-in his eye there dawns
A dazzling earnest of unutter'd joy.

Each pang subdued, his longing soul respires
The gales of glorified eternity;

And round him, hues ethereal, harps of light,
And lineaments of earthless beauty throng,
As, wing'd on melody, the saint departs,
While heaven in miniature before him shines.

DUTY AND AFFECTION OF A BELOVED
DAUGHTER.

How winning are those myriad ways
By which a child fond homage pays,—
Those ministries of heart and hand
Which none but parents understand!-