Not but I could be well enough content One month's fair weather-and I am undone." He scream'd and scrambled, but 'twas all in vain: Why, 'tis a wretch, we think, of your own making; No fool can be supposed in such a taking: Your own warm fancy." Nay, but warm or cool, DR. BYROM. 30. MELROSE ABBEY. [From THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL.] IF thou wouldst view fair Melrose aright, When the broken arches are black in night, When silver edges the imagery, And the scrolls that teach thee to live and die; And the owlet to hoot o'er the dead man's grave, SIR WALTER SCOTT. 31. THE COMING OF THE MESSIAH. HARK ! [ARK! a glad voice the lonely desert cheers; Prepare the way! a God, a God appears! A God, a God! the vocal hills reply; The rocks proclaim th' approaching Deity. Lo, earth receives Him from the bending skies; Sink down, ye mountains; and, ye valleys, rise; With heads declined, ye cedars, homage pay; Be smooth, ye rocks; ye rapid floods, give way The Saviour comes, by ancient bards foretold! Hear Him, ye deaf; and all ye blind, behold! He from thick films shall purge the visual ray, And on the sightless eyeball pour the day: 'Tis He th' obstructed paths of sound shall clear, And bid new music charm th' unfolding ear: The dumb shall sing, the lame his crutch forego, And leap exulting like the bounding roe. No sigh, no murmur, the wide world shall hear; From every face He wipes off every tear: In adamantine chains shall Death be bound, And hell's grim tyrant feel th' eternal wound. As the good shepherd tends his fleecy care, Seeks freshest pasture, and the purest air; Explores the lost, the wandering sheep directs; By day o'ersees them, and by night protects; The tender lambs he raises in his arms, Feeds from his hand; and in his bosom warms; Thus shall mankind His guardian care engage,— The promised Father of the future age. No more shall nation against nation rise, Nor ardent warriors meet with hateful eyes, Nor fields with gleaming steel be cover'd o'er, POPE. 32. HE NEVER SMILED AGAIN.* THE bark which held a prince went down, And what was England's glorious crown He lived for life may long be borne, Why comes not death to those who mourn He never smiled again! There stood proud forms before his throne, But which could fill the place of That one beneath the wave? one, ? * It is recorded of Henry the First, that, after the death of his son, Prince William, who perished by shipwreck off the coast of Normandy, he was never seen to smile. Before him pass'd the young and fair, In pleasures reckless train; But seas dash'd o'er his son's bright hair He never smiled again! He sat where festal bowls went round; He saw the tournay's victory crown'd A murmur of the restless deep Was blent with every strain, A voice of winds that would not sleep- Hearts, in that time, closed o'er the trace And strangers took the kinsman's place Graves, which true love had bath'd with tears, MRS. HEMANS. 33. THE HARE AND MANY FRIENDS. FRIENDSHIP, like love, is but a name, Unless to few you stint the flame. The child whom many fathers share, A Hare who, in a civil way, |