Noiseless and clear, and holiest of the seven, That day when thy last earthly sun went down, Thy Sabbath, closing here, began in heaven, Whilst thy meek brow changed ashes for a crown. Hush was the evening: not a zephyr swelling Heaved the tree-blossom or the woodbine leaves, Silent, the bird that sung about our dwelling Slept where she nestled, close beneath its eaves. Cloudless the moon and stars above were shining When Time's last ray to thy mild eye was shed; While Death's cold touch, life's silver cord entwining, Brought his chill night-dew on thy reverend head. Ninety full years of pilgrimage completing, How didst thou linger till one Sabbath more: 'Twas holy time: thy pure heart stilled its beating: Pain, work, and warfare were for ever o'er! MY FATHER. Now, while the robin, past thy window flying, 59 Leads off her young, forsaking here her nest, Constant the wild bird, where thy dust is lying, Sings her sweet hymn, a requiem to its rest. There has it joined the ashes of my mother, Faithful, re-wedded to its only bride: And there thy latest born, my younger brother, Thy fond heart's care, sleeps closely by her side. Yet, angel-father, over Jordan's water, Is it so far, that now thou canst not see Back to the shore, where lonely stands thy daughter, Sprinkling its rocks and thorns with tears for thee? Art thou so distant, visions of thy glory May not be granted to her mortal sight; When she so long watched o'er thy head so hoary, Smoothing its pillow till that mournful night? Since here so oft, in pain, the path of duty Thy patient feet with steady steps have trod, Safe now they walk the golden streets in beauty; And, O! thy blessed eyes see peace in God! MISS H. F. GOULD. MEMORY. AH! why should I recall them-the gay the joyous years, Ere hope was cross'd or pleasure dimm'd by sorrow and by tears? Or why should memory love to trace youth's glad and sunlit way, When those who made its charms so sweet are gathered to decay? The summer's sun shall come again, to brighten hill and bower The teeming earth its fragrance bring beneath the balmy shower; But all in vain will mem'ry strive, in vain we shed our tears They're gone away and can't return-the friends of boyhood's years! Ah! why then wake my sorrow, and bid me now count o'er The vanished friends so dearly prized-the days to come no more The happy days of infancy, when no guile our bosoms knew, Nor reck'd we of the pleasures that with each hour flew ? THE LAND OF LIBERTY. 61 'Tis all in vain to weep for them-the past a dream appears; And where are they-the loved, the young, the friends of boyhood's years? Go seek them in the cold church-yard-they long have stolen to rest; But do not weep, for their young cheeks by woe were ne'er oppressed: Life's sun for them in splendour set-no cloud came o'er the ray That lit them from this gloomy world upon their joyous way. No tears about their graves be shed-but sweetest flowers be flung The fittest off'ring thou canst make to hearts that perish young To hearts this world has not torn with racking hopes and fears; For bless'd are they who pass away in boyhood's happy years! CLERE. THE LAND OF LIBERTY. WHERE may that glorious land be found Which glorious bards have sung; The chosen of the nations, crown'd A fame that filled the Grecian sea, The rose-crown'd Summer ceaseless shines On orient realms of gold, Yet left upon the lands of Morn The West, O! wide its forests wave, But long the setting sun Hath blushed to see the toiling slave Roll on the ancient floods, That miss the brethren of their youth, The North, with misty mantle lours Who gather from a thousand shores |