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adoration. But I am now spent; and the last good gift of God is this -- that he has sent thee to learn this awful lesson of unfaithful pride, and to save the bones of his repentant servant from the desert beast.”

Before the sun had risen on the morrow, the youth had buried the prophet in his cave, and returned to his tribe with a story destined to carry down fear and wonder to countless generations.

OLDBURY.

BY THE REV. C. HOYLE.

Here stood the Celtic Britons ; from afar
To watch the’ invader, and roll back the tide
Of desolation : here the combat's pride
Raged oft and long ; the courser and the car
Oft hence recoiled in tumult; till the star
Of Rome shone out on mutual homicide
A mutual ruin : now explorers glide
In safety o'er the vestiges of war,
And muse on peace to come. Haste, visions bright,
When the first resurrection shall unfold
Millenial reign of glory, and enchain
The' Arch-dragon ; while the floods of heavenly light,
For ever from the eternal fountain rolled,
Inundate earth, like one unbounded main.

A SKETCH FROM REAL LIFE.

BY ALARIC A. WATTS.

1. I saw her in her morn of hope, in life's delicious spring, A radiant creature of the earth, just bursting on the wing; Elate and joyous as the lark when first it soars on high, Without a shadow in its path,-a cloud upon its sky!—

II. I see her yet—so fancy deems—her soft, unbraided hair, Gleaming, like sun-light upon snow, above her forehead

fair ;Her large dark eyes, of changing light, the winning smile

that played, In dimpling sweetness, round a mouth Expression's self

had made!

· III.

And light alike of heart and step, she bounded on her

way, Nor dreamed the flowers that round her bloomed would

ever know decay ;-

She had no winter in her note, but evermore would sing (What darker season had she proved ?) of spring-of

only spring !

IV.

Alas, alas, that hopes like hers, so gentle and so bright, The growth of many a happy year, one wayward hour

should blight ;Bow down her fair but fragile form, her brilliant brow

o'ercast, And make her beauty-like her bliss a shadow of the

past!

Years came and went — we met again, — but what a.

change was there! The glassy calmness of the eye, that whispered of des

pair ;The fitful flushing of the cheek,—the lips compressed

and thin, The clench of the attenuate hands,-proclaimed the strife

within !

VI.

Yet, for each ravaged charm of earth some pitying power

had given Beauty, of more than mortal birth,-a spell that breathed

of heaven;

And as she bent, resigned and meek, beneath the chas

tening blow, With all a martyr's fervid faith her features seemed

to glow!

VII.

No wild reproach — no bitter word—in that sad hour,

was spoken, For hopes deceived, for love betrayed, and plighted

pledges broken ;-) Like Him who for his murderers prayed,—she wept, but

did not chide, And her last orisons arose for him for whom she died!

VIII.

Thus, thus-too oft the traitor man repays fond woman's

truth; Thus blighting, in his wild caprice, the blossoms of her

youth: And sad it is, in griefs like these, o'er visions loved and

lost, That the truest and the tenderest heart must always

suffer most!

A SUMMER SCENE.

BY ROBERT MORRIS, ESQ.

Let us go forth, pale student, nature hath
Voices for thy worn spirit, and a pulse
Beating in concord with thy heated brain,
O’er-wrought with its vain toil! Awhile forsake
The lore of by-gone intellect,—the dreams
Of old Pythagoras, and him who died
The martyr to a high philosophy,
At sunset's quiet hour. Come out with me, -
For by that quivering flush upon thy cheek
I know that thou hast pondered cunningly
Upon the old world's wisdom! 'Tis not well
That one who has a spiritual thirst
For the’ unfathomed mysteries of mind,
Should ponder constantly o’er antique lore !
Life's taper will go out. The energies
Of man's corporeal being will decay,
And leave the spirit bodyless. What then
For the deep hoards of wisdom,—the profound

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