XLV.

HUMILITY.

H, I would walk

verge

A weary journey-to the furtheft
Of the big world, to fee that good man's

form,

Who, in the blaze of wifdom and of

art,

Preferves a lowly mind, and to his God,
Feeling the fenfe of his own littleness,
Is as a child in meek fimplicity.

KIRKE WHITE.

XLVI.

MEMORY.

ER charm around, the enchantress, Memory, threw,

A charm that foothes the mind, and fweetens too!

But is her magic only felt below?

Say through what brighter realms fhe bids it flow!
There thy bright train, immortal Friendship, foar,

No more to part, to mingle tears no more!
And as the foftening hand of Time endears
The joys and forrows of our infant years,

So there the foul, releafed from human ftrife,
Smiles at the little cares and ills of life,-

Its lights and fhades, its funfhines and its fhowers,

As at a dream that charmed her vacant hours!

XLVII.

ROGERS.

ART.

OME, bright Improvement, in the car of Time,

And rule the spacious world from clime to clime.

Thy handmaid, Art, fhall every wild
explore,

Trace every wave, and culture ev'ry shore.
On Erie's banks, where tigers fteal along,
And the dread Indian chaunts a difmal fong,-
Where human fiends on midnight errands walk,
And bathe in brains the murderous tomahawk, -
There fhall the flock on thymy pastures ftray,
And shepherds dance at fummer's opening day.
Each wandering genius of the lonely glen
Shall start to view the glittering haunts of men,
And filence mark on woodland heights around
The village curfew, as it tolls profound.

CAMPBELL.

XLVIII.

OLD AGE.

OR can the fnows, which now cold age

hath fhed

Upon thy reverend head,

Quench or allay the noble fires within. For all that thou hast been, and all that

youth can be,

Thou'rt yet-fo fully ftill doft thou

Poffefs the manhood and the bloom of wit.

To things immortal time can do no wrong,

And that which never is to die, for ever must be

young.

COWLEY.

XLIX.

THE CHURCH.

HE has a charm, a word of fire,
A pledge of love, that cannot tire ;
By tempefts, earthquakes, and by wars,
By rushing waves and falling ftars,

By every fign her Lord foretold,
She fees the world is waxing old;
And through the last and direst storm
Defcries, by faith, her Saviour's form.

L.

THE ABBEY JUMIEGES.

A

GLORIOUS remnant of the Gothic pile

(Which once was Rome's) ftood half apart

In a grand arch,-which once fcreened

many an aisle ;

The laft had disappeared,-a lofs to art,

The first yet frowned fuperbly o'er the foil,

And kindled feelings in the rougheft heart

Which mourned the power of time and temper's march,

In gazing on that venerable arch.

BYRON.*

LI.

LEBANON.

ID the deep filence of the pathless wild, Where kindlier Nature once profufely smiled,

Th' eternal cedars ftand; unknown their

age,

Untold their annals in hiftoric page!
All that around them ftood, now

Single in ruin, mighty in decay!

far

away,

*Copied by the Editor from the ruins A.D. 1839, where "the lame Lord," as the Sacriftain faid, had carved them twenty years previous, and whofe vifit he well remembered.

Between the mountains and the neighbouring main
They claim the empire of the lonely plain.
In folemn beauty through the clear blue light
The leafy columns rear their awful height!
And they are ftill the fame; alike they mock
Th' invader's menace and the tempeft's fhock;
And ere the world had bow'd at Cæfar's throne,
Ere yet proud Rome's all-conquering name was known,
They ftood; and fleeting centuries in vain
Have poured their fury on the enduring fane,
While in the progrefs of their long decay
Thrones fink to duft and empires melt away.

G. HOWARD.

LII.

LIBERTY.

OMPULSION, from its deftined course,
The magnet may awhile detain;
But, when no more withheld by force,
It trembles to the North again.
Thus, though the idle world may hold
My fetter'd thoughts awhile from Thee,
To Thee they spring, when uncontroll'd
In all the warmth of liberty.