'Tis sweet, where nodding rocks around The nightshade dark is wildly wreathing, To listen to some solemn sound

From harp or lyre divinely breathing.

And sweeter yet the genuine glow

Of youthful Friendship's high devotion,

Responsive to the voice of woe,

When heaves the heart with strong emotion.

And Youth is sweet with many a joy,

That frolick by in artless measure;

And Age is sweet, with less alloy,

In tranquil thought and silent pleasure.

For He who gave the life we share,
With every charm His gift adorning,

Bade Eve her pearly dewdrops wear,

And drest in smiles the blush of Morning.

1812.

"TRAVELLER, whence comest thou?"

"From dark Etna's burning brow;

"From the vineyards that recline

"On the sunny Apennine;

"From Hymettus wet with dew,
"And the walls of stout Corfu;
"From the isles whose bright array
"Gems Byzantium's spangled bay;
"From the fields where Peleus' son
"Deathless fame in battle won;

Many a sea, and many a shore;

"I have trod the utmost plain

"Of ancient Shinaar's haughty reign,

"Where, in shapeless ruin, lie

"The mouldering masses dark and high,

Trophies that old Time has won

"From the mighty Babylon.

"I have pierced the desert deep, "Where huge Tadmor's glories sleep; "And my weary limbs have laid

"To slumber in the marble shade;

"Oft the boding night-bird's sound

"I have pressed with pilgrim feet "Sion's high and holy seat,

"And wept to see the Paynim dare "Lift his godless falchion there.

"I have watch'd the day go down, "By Delphi's crags, and forests brown, "And seen her rising glories thrown

"On the sun-bright Parthenon.

66

66

Many a fierce meridian beam,

Many a night-dew's drenching stream, "Damps of death, and winds of flame, "Have pierced my faint and faded frame, " Woe, woe, the luckless hour that tore "The wanderer from his parent shore."

THE SABBATH.

1812.

WHEN God from dust created man,

Six days beheld the growing plan,
Six days his Power confess'd;
The seventh, in festal joy arrayed,
His perfect work, well-pleased, surveyed
The Almighty Sire, and bless'd.

And, mindful of that solemn Day,

His grateful sons their homage pay
Before the eternal throne;

With hymns of praise and pious prayer,

His everlasting rest declare,

And, joyful, wait their own.

For not in vain by twilight here,

With many a doubt, and many a fear,
Our pilgrim path we tread;

A little learn, a little do,

Observe, discover, hope, pursue,—
And mingle with the dead.

E

Beyond the dark and stormy bound

That guards our dull horizon round,

A lovelier vale extends;

Messiah rules in mercy there,

And o'er his Altar, bright in air,
The morning star ascends. *

Oh! holy Seat of Love and Peace, The sounds of war and conflict cease

Within thy quiet reign;

And every flower of fairest hue,

That once in favoured Eden grew,
Shall rise and bloom again.

For thee the early Patriarch sighed, Thy distant glory faint descried,

And hailed the blest abode;

A stranger here, he sought a home, Fixed in a city yet to come,

The city of his God.

And oft by Siloa's haunted stream,

In heavenly trance, or holy dream,
To faithful Israel shewn,

Triumphant over all her foes,

The true, the living Salem rose,
Jehovah's promised throne.

*Revel. 2. 28.-22. 16.