let me follow in this dear embrace !'
She sunk, and on his bosom hid her face.
Adam looked up; his visage changed its hue,
Transformed into an angel's at the view:

I come!' he cried, with faith's full triumph fired, And in a sigh of ecstacy expired.

The light was vanished, and the vision fled;
We stood alone, the living with the dead;
The ruddy embers, glimmering round the room,
Displayed the corse amidst the solemn gloom;
But o'er the scene a holy calm reposed,

The gate of heaven had opened there, and closed.

Eve's faithful arm still clasped her lifeless spouse;
Gently I shook it, from her trance to rouse;
She gave no answer; motionless and cold,
It fell like clay from my relaxing hold
Alarmed, I lifted up the locks of gray

That hid her cheek; her soul had passed away;
A beauteous corse she graced her partner's side,
Love bound their lives, and death could not divide.

Trembling astonishment of grief we felt,
Till Nature's sympathies began to melt;
We wept in stillness through the long dark night,
-And O how welcome was the morning light.

ODE.

O for the death of those
Who for their country die,
Sink on her bosom to repose,
And triumph where they die!

How beautiful in death

The WARRIOR's corse appears, Embalmed by fond Affection's breath And bathed in WOMAN's tears!

Their loveliest native earth
Enshrines the fallen brave;

In the dear land that gave them birt!,
They find their tranquil grave.

-But the wild waves shall sweep
BRITANNIA'S foes away,

And the blue monsters of the deep
Be surfeited with prey.-

O'er-shadowing laurels deck,
The living hero's brows;

But lovelier wreaths entwine his neck,
His children and his spouse.

Exulting o'er his lot,

The dangers he has braved,

He clasps the dear one, hails the cot,

Which his own valour saved.

Daughters of ALBION, weep:

On this triumphant plain,

Your fathers husbands, brethren sleep,

For you and freedom, slain.

O gently close the eye

That loved to look on you;
O seal the lip whose earliest sigh,
Whose latest breath was true:

With knots of sweetest flowers

Their winding-sheet perfume;

And wash their wounds with true-love showers, And dress them for the tomb.

For beautiful in death

The WARRIOR's corse appears,

Embalmed by fond Affection's breath

And bathed in WOMAN's tears.

-Give me the death of those
Who for their country die;
And O be mine like their repose,
When cold and low they lie!

Their loveliest mother Earth
Entwines the fallen brave,

In her sweet lap who gave them birth
They find their tranquil grave.

THE DIAL

This shadow on the Dial's face,
That steals from day to day,
With slow, unseen, unceasing pace,

Moments, and months, and years away ;— 'This shadow, which, in every clime,

Since light and motion first began,

Hath held its course sublime ;

What is it?- -Mortal Man!

It is the scythe of TIME:
-A shadow only to the eye;
Yet, in its calm career,

It levels all beneath the sky!

And still through each succeeding year,

Right onward, with resistless power,

Its stroke shall darken every hour,

Till Nature's race be run,

And Time's last shadow shall eclipse the sun

Nor only o'er the Dial's face,

This silent phantom, day by day, With slow, unseen, unceasing pace,

Steals moments, months, and years away; From hoary rock and aged tree,

From proud Palmyra's mouldering walls

From Teneriffe, towering o'er the sea,

From every blade of grass, it falls;

For still where'er a shadow sleeps
The scythe of time destroys,
And man at every footstep weeps
O'er evanescent joys;

Like flowerets glittering with the dews of morn, Fair for a moment, then for ever shorn:

-Ah! soon, beneath the inevitable blow, I too shall lie in dust and darkness low.

Then TIME, the Conqueror, will suspend
His scythe, a trophy, o'er my tomb,
Whose moving shadow shall portend
Each frail beholder's doom.

O'er the wide earth's illumined space,

Though TIME's triumphant flight be shown, The truest index on its face

Points from the churchyard stone.