Winter in the Spring.

The lambs that shiv'ring lie around
The frosty glebe, or sterile ground,
Beneath the midnight gale,

Beside their dams exhausted die,
Or bleating with a feeble cry,
Their early life bewail.

Who will, may praise thy stormy reign; We wish thee fairly back again

To thine own northern pole; There may'st thou unregretted hold Thy magazines of storms and cold. And rule without controul.

But, ah! our scanty portion spare,
Of budding spring, or summer fair,
Or autumn's mild decline:

With the young year resume thy sway,
But ere the genial month of May,
Thy gloomy throne resign.

So life's short spring, when overcast,
And stern ill-humour's wintry blast,
Would peace and love destroy;
We wish that we had fairly lost
The intermeddling man of frost,

And say "Good-bye!" with joy.

The Seasons of Life.

THE SEASONS OF LIFE.

WITH blooming hopes and budding joys,
The spring of cheerful youth appears;
Yet oft some sudden blight destroys
The promise fair of future years,

Like fervid Summer, bright and warm,
Shines glowing manhood, strong and gay;

Yet oft some unsuspected storm

Its strength and glory sweeps away.

From shorten'd days, and tears of dew,
The fruits and leaves in Autumn fly}

So age bemoans his days are few,

And feels his gifts before him die.

Then Winter comes with frost and snow,
O'er earth an icy tomb to spread ;

So age at last entomb'd below,

Shall moulder with the silent dead.

But soon shall Spring with genial breath,
New life and joy to nature bring ;

So saints shall burst the clods of death,

Written during a strong northern Gale.

- WRITTEN DURING A STRONG NORTHERN

GALE

RUSHING from the frozen north,
Whence the frigid breezes blow,
Lo! the tempest issues forth,

Scatt'ring hail, and frost, and snow.

Chilling Winter once again

Flies upon the piercing blast,

Binding in his icy chain

Floods, and fields, and vapours fast.

Mutely pine the feather'd choir,

Perching on the leafless bough;
And the flocks and herds retire,
Asking man for shelter now.
Dreadful is the wand'rer's fate,

Pacing the unshelter'd plain ;
Weary, numbed, cold, and late,

Oft he longs for home, in vain.

Dashing o'er the bursting wave,
Mighty ships like atoms roll,

Scud the mount-or plunge the grave,
Owning not the helm's controul;

Written during a strong northern Gale.

Now the shatter'd fabrics fail,

Found'ring sink, to rise no more,

Or, urg'd onward by the gale,

Scatter wrecks along the shore.

Through the veins of hoary age

Slowly life's red current creeps, And beneath stern Winter's rage, Shiv'ring Mis'ry silent weeps; Hov'ring o'er the embers' glow,

While the gust their hut doth shake, Wrapp'd in wretchedness and woe,

Round the glimm'ring hearth they quake.

Ye, who clad in garments warm,
Shelter'd in a safe retreat,
Shudder, when you hear the storm
Rudely at your windows beat.
Feel, oh feel! for those who need ;

Now, the Christian maxims prove→

Clothe the bare, the hungry feed;

Thus, fulfil the law of love.

True Honour.

TRUE HONOUR.

YE little thoughts and themes away!
I meditate a lofty lay,

Of honour, worth, and fame;

We should not speak in common straine
Of things which stretch aspiring brains,
And are the great man's claim.

But what is honour, worth, or fame,
At which such eager thousands aim?
What pompous verse, or sounding line,
Shall these mysterious things define?-
The height sublime,

What Muse shall climb ?

The depth profound

What skill shall sound ?

What clew shall guide

Where wand'ring wide,

The myriads lose themselves in shame?

Ah! 'tis not what a King bestows,

Long lists of titles sounding loud,

The pomp which elevation shows,

That dazzles and confounds the crowd;