ELEGY ON THE RETURN OF SPRING.
And who would not the darts of pain endure,
If these awake contrition's soft'ning tear,
If these our Heavenly Father's love ensure %,
And to our hearts His holy word endear?
How many a promise falls on sorrow's ear,
Nor felt nor understood when life was gay!
As darkness makes a thousand worlds appear,
Lost and unseen amid the blaze of day.
Henceforth a tranquil chasten'd bliss be mine,
Alike remov'd from rapture and from woe;
And mine the light which more and more shall
shine h,
And teach me gently all I need to know.
And may the Lord, who here hath been my stay, Still guide me safely to that peaceful shore • Where His own hand shall wipe our tears away, And pain and sin shall never vex us more.
LINES ON DISMISSING AN UNFAITHFUL SERVANT.
BE not too angry at thy servant's sin,
But, while thou dost rebuke him, look within;
Let the just zeal with which thy breast is fraught
Be temper'd with an inward humbling thought:
Thou hast offended, and wilt still offend
A mightier Master and a kinder Friend.
If thou hast oft forgiv'n and kindness shew'd,
The "hundred pence" was all thy servant ow'd;
"Ten thousand talents" are to thee forgiv❜n,
Thy injur'd Lord is Lord of earth and heaven!-
Then, whilst for others thou must bear the rod,
And "rule with diligencei" as unto God,
Muse on the humbling lesson when alone,
And in thy servant's fault behold thine own.
i Rom. xii. 8; Coloss. iv. 1.
ON FIRST SEEING THE TRAIN PASS.
HARK! the shrill whistle tells the train is near!
Lo! where it comes, nor time nor distance heeds!
Rapid and vast the moving terror speeds,
And fills the trembling frame with sudden fear.
And now the pant of its dread breath we hear;
It is at hand! The horrid madd'ning sounds,
The huge increasing bulk the sense confounds-
The sick brain turns-the quiv'ring nerves give o'er
Their wonted strength-we hear and see no more!
Already far away, the less'ning train
Pursues its dread career along th' astonish'd plain.
WE miss thee on the dewy hill,
We miss thee by thy fav'rite stream;
Each scene appears so sad and still,
All chang'd as in a painful dream.
For thy dear form we look in vain—
When shall we have thee here again?
Though other love is now around thee,
Yet hast thou not forgotten ours;
Some spell, some ling'ring spell, hath bound thee,
Thou waitest for the time of flow'rs ;
To thee the flow'rs were always dear,
And sweet the opening of the year.
Thou waitest for that pleasant time,
The time of Spring and joy and love,
When smiles the violet in her prime,
And ring-doves murmur thro' the grove;
When the first cuckoo's early note
Sounds sweetly from the woods remote.
When cheerful daisies deck the green,
And hawthorn buds the graceful spray,
And childhood's sportive group is seen
In every flowery mead at play ;-
To them earth seems a pleasant land,
For life and Spring go hand in hand.
Those hours when thou wast with us last,
Those vernal hours, are they gone by?
So swiftly has that season pass'd!
Does joy indeed so swiftly fly ?-
And must we wait another year,
Ere thou and Spring again are here?
The Summer, long, with magic smile
Has chang'd the garlands brought by May;
Her gorgeous flow'rs have bloom'd awhile,
And now, like those, have pass'd away;
Her long bright days of joy are o'er,
Her balmy evenings come no more.
And yet the rural landscape still
Delights all varied can unfold,
While Autumn casts o'er wood and hill
Her russet mantle fring'd with gold; While skies, tho' pale, like these are clear, And smile upon the parting year.
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