exposed to perpetual vicissitudes. How often and how soon have the faint echoes of renown slept in silence, or been converted into the clamours of obloquy! The same lips, almost with the same breath, cry, Hosanna and Crucify! Have not riches confessed their notorious treachery a thousand and a thousand times? Either melting away like snow in our hands, by insensible degrees, or escaping, like a winged prisoner from its cage, with a precipitate flight.

Have we not known the bridegroom's closet an ante-chamber to the tomb; and heard the voice which so lately pronounced the sparkling pair husband and wife, proclaim an everlasting divorce? and seal the decree, with that solemn asseveration, "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust!" Our friends, though the medicine of life; our health, though the balm of nature, are a most precarious possession. How soon may the first become a corpse in our arms; and how easily is the last destroyed in its vigour !

You have seen, no doubt, a set of pretty painted birds perching on your trees, or sporting in your meadows. You were pleased with the lovely visitants, that brought beauty on their wings, and melody in their throats. But could you ensure the continuance of this agreeable entertainment? No, truly. At the least disturbing noise, at the least terrifying appearance, they start from their seats; they mount the skies, and are gone in an instant, are gone for

ever.

Would you choose to have a happiness which bears date with their arrival, and expires at their departure? If you could not be content with a portion, enjoyable only through such a fortuitous term, not of years, but of moments, O! take up with nothing

earthly; set your affections on things above; there alone is "no variableness or shadow of turning."

"SI JE TE PERDS, JE SUIS PERDU."*

SHINE on, thou bright beacon,
Unclouded and free,

From thy high place of calmness,
O'er life's troubled sea;
Its morning of promise,

Its smooth seas are gone,
And the billows rave wildly—
Then, bright one, shine on.

The wings of the tempest
May rush o'er thy ray;
But tranquil thou smilest,
Undimm'd by its sway:
High, high, o'er the world,

Where storms are unknown

Thou dwellest, all beauteous,
All glorious, alone.

From the deep womb of darkness,

The lightning-flash leaps,

O'er the bark of my

fortunes

Each mad billow sweeps;
From the port of her safety

By warring winds driven,
And no light o'er her course,

But you lone one of heaven.

*These lines were suggested by an impress on a seal, representing a boat at sea, and a man at the helm looking up at a star; with the motto, "Si je te perds, je suis perdu."

But, bark of eternity,
Where art thou now?
The tempest wave shrieks
O'er each plunge of thy prow.
On the world's dreary ocean
Thus shatter'd and tost,-
Then, lone one, shine on,

"If I lose thee, I'm lost."

THE SONG OF WINTER.

I.

I COME from the caves of the frozen north;

But over the earth, ere I issue forth,

In the pride of my strength, and the power of my might,

I bind my veil of silvery white,

Lest the tender plants, in her breast that lie,
Congealed by my frown, should wither and die.

II.

My breath has a spell, which the waters know;
When they feel its chill, they cease their flow;
And the river, that rushed like a war-steed fleet,
Is a marble bridge beneath your feet;

And the rill, that leaped like a child at play,
Is cold and still as a form of clay.

III.

I have touched the trees with my icy hand
And the leaves are gone, like courtiers bland,
When the storm has burst on their patron's head,
And the fortune that flattered their hopes is fled;

And the forest is withered and sad to see,
Like the heart that is seared by adversity.

IV.

Ye may search the vale and the mountain high ;
There is not a flower to gladden your eye:
Ye may enter the bower where the ivy twined;
'Tis rent away by the stormy wind;

And snows are piled where the rose-tree sprung, And the cold blasts sigh where the wild-bird sung.

V.

And my voice resounds through the hollow sky, And ye shrink with fear, as a foe were nigh, And ye gather your robes, with shivering care, And ye breathe for spring the ardent prayer; But I tell you, men of this changeful earth, Your sweetest joys in my reign have birth.

VI.

Go close the door, and the shutter bar,—
Within may be peace, though without is war,—
And heap the wood on the glowing hearth,
And circle around, in the joy of mirth-
Such joy as the generous heart will feel,
When finding its own in another's weal.

VII.

There are smiles more dear than spring's soft ray,
Eyes brighter far than the summer's day,
And souls more kind than autumn's hand,
When pouring his plenty over your land;

And those smiles can greet, and souls can glow,
When the air is storms, and the earth is snow.

VIII.

I summon the evening hours with me,

The hours for deep thought, and for social glee; For the mazy dance, where light steps tread, Like fairy feet, o'er the violet's head;

For the song that floats, like the breath of heaven, When it mingles its sweets with the dews of even.

IX.

O, then, with the harp of festivity,

Ye children of Freedom, welcome me ;
And whether ye bask in the summer rays,
Or brave the blasts of my stormy days,
To Him, whose every gift is good,
Still tender the tribute of gratitude.

THE PEBBLE AND THE ACORN.

I.

"I AM a Pebble, and yield to none,"
Were the swelling words of a tiny stone;
"Nor change nor season can alter me?
I am abiding while ages flee.

The pelting hail and drizzling rain
Have tried to soften me long in vain ;
And the tender dew has sought to melt,
Or to touch my heart; but it was not felt.

II.

"None can tell of the Pebble's birth; For I am as old as the solid earth.