The clouds might give abundant rain,
The nightly dews might fall,

And the herb that keepeth life in man
Might yet have drunk them all.

Then wherefore, wherefore were they made,
All dyed with rainbow light,
All fashion'd with supremest grace,
Upspringing day and night,-
Springing in valleys green and low,
And on the mountains high,
And in the silent wilderness
Where no man passes by?

Our outward life requires them not;
Then wherefore had they birth?—
To minister delight to all,

To beautify the earth;

To comfort man, to whisper hope
Whene'er his faith is dim;

For who so careth for the flowers
Will much more care for him.

HOWITT.

0'

15. THE SOLDIER'S DREAM.

UR bugles sang truce-for the night-cloud had lower'd,
And the sentinel stars set their watch in the sky;

And thousands had sunk on the ground overpower'd,
The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die-
When, reposing that night on my pallet of straw,
By the wolf-scaring faggot that guarded the slain,
At the dead of the night a sweet vision I saw,

And thrice ere the morning I dream'd it again.

Methought from the battle-field's dreadful array,
Far, far I had roam'd on a desolate track:
"Twas autumn-and sunshine arose on the way

To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back.
I flew to the pleasant fields, traversed so oft

In life's morning march, when my bosom was young; I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft,

And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers sung. Then pledged we the wine-cup, and fondly I swore, From my home and my weeping friends never to part; My little ones kiss'd me a thousand times o'er,

And my wife sobb'd aloud in her fulness of heart"Stay, stay with us! rest! thou art weary and worn!" And fain was their war-broken soldier to stay;

But sorrow return'd with the dawning of morn,
And the voice in my dreaming ear-melted away!

CAMPBELL

16. THE STORM.

MARK VI. 47-51.

FEAR was stormy winds grew loud;

EAR was within the tossing bark,

When

And waves came rolling high and dark,
And the tall mast was bow'd.

And men stood breathless in their dread,
And baffled in their skill;

But One was there, who rose and said
To the wild sea, Be still!"

And the wind ceased-it ceased-that word
Pass'd through the gloomy sky;

The troubled billows knew their Lord,

And sank beneath his eye.

And slumber settled on the deep,
And silence on the blast,
As when the righteous falls asleep,
When death's fierce throes are past.
Thou that didst rule the angry hour,
And tame the tempest's mood,
Oh! send thy spirit forth in power,
O'er our dark souls to brood!

Thou that didst bow the billow's pride,

Thy mandates to fulfil

So speak to passion's raging tide,

Speak, and say, "Peace, be still!"

MRS. HEMANS.

17. THE MEETING OF THE WATERS.

HERE is not in the wide world a valley so sweet

TE

As the vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet: Oh! the last rays of feeling and life must depart,

Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart!

Yet, it was not that Nature had shed o'er the scene
Her purest of crystal and brightest of green;

'Twas not the soft magic of streamlet or hill;

Oh! no-it was something more exquisite still. 'Twas that friends, the belov'd of my bosom, were near, Who made every dear scene of enchantment more dear, And who felt how the best charms of nature improve, When we see them reflected from looks that we love.

Sweet vale of Avoca! how calm could I rest

In thy bosom of shade, with the friends I love best; Where the storms that we feel in this cold world should

cease,

And our hearts, like thy waters, be mingled in peace!

T. MOORE.

18. THE COMMON LOT.

NCE in the flight of ages past,

ONCE

There lived a man;-and WHO WAS HE?
-Mortal! howe'er thy lot be cast,
That man resembled thee.

Unknown the region of his birth,

The land in which he died unknown,
His name has perish'd from the earth;
This truth survives alone:

That joy and grief, and hope and fear,
Alternate triumph'd in his breast:
His bliss and woe,- -a smile, a tear!
-Oblivion hides the rest.

The bounding pulse, the languid limb,
The changing spirits' rise and fall;
We know that these were felt by him,
For these are felt by all.

He suffer'd, but his pangs are o'er;

Enjoy'd,—but his delights are fled;

Had friends,—his friends are now no more;
And foes, his foes are dead.

He loved, but whom he loved, the

grave

Hath lost in its unconscious womb:
O she was fair,-but nought could save
Her beauty from the tomb.

He saw whatever thou hast seen;
Encounter'd all that troubles thee:
He was whatever thou hast been;
He is what thou shalt be.

The rolling seasons, day and night,

Sun, moon, and stars, the earth and main,
Erewhile his portion, life and light,

To him exist in vain.

The clouds and sunbeams, o'er his eye
That once their shades and glory threw,
Have left in yonder silent sky

No vestige where they flew.

The annals of the human race,

Their ruins, since the world began,

Of HIM afford no other trace

Than this,-THERE LIVED A MAN!

JAMES MONTGOMERY.

γου

19. FATHER WILLIAM.

YOU are old, Father William," the young man cried,

"The few locks which are left you are gray; You are hale, Father William, a hearty old man; Now tell me the reason, I pray?"