LIFE, DEATH AND ETERNITY.
to do in this fable; but it is a pleasant mode of show. ing the folly and wickedness of that strife which the meaner passions above auuded to, may create.
WITHIN the garden's peaceful scene
Appeared two lovely foes,
Aspiring to the rank of queen,-—
The lily and the rose.
The rose soon reddened into rage,
And, swelling with disdain,
Appealed to many a poet's page
To prove her right to reign.
The lily's height bespoke command.
A fair, imperial flower;
She seemed designed for Flora's hand,
The sceptre of her power.
This civil bickering and debate
The goddess chanced to hear;
And flew to save, ere yet too late,
The pride of the parterre.
"Yours is," she said, "the nobler hue,
And yours the statelier mien;
And, till a third surpasses you,
Let each be deemed a queen."
LIFE, DEATH AND ETERNITY.
A SHADOW moving by one's side,
That would á substance seem,
That is, yet is not,-though descried-
Like skies beneath the stream:
A tree that's ever in the bloom,
Whose fruit is never ripe;
A wish for joys that never come-
Such are the hopes of Life.
A dark, inevitable night,
A blank that will remain ;
A waiting for the morning light,
When waiting is in vain ;
A gulf where pathway never led
To show the deep beneath;
A thing we know not, yet we dread-
That dreaded thing is Death.
The vaulted void of purple sky
That everywhere extends,
That stretches from the dazzled eye,
In space that never ends;
A morning whose uprisen sun
No setting e'er shall see ;
A day that comes without a noon-
Such is Eternity.
Ir came with spring's soft sun and showers
Mid bursting buds and blushing flowers;
It flourished on the same light stem,
It drank the same clear dews with them.
The crimson tints of summer morn
That gilded one, did each adorn.
The breeze that whispered light and brief
To bud or blossom, kissed the leaf;
When o'er the leaf the tempest flew,
The bud and blossom trembled too.
But its companions passed away,
And left the leaf to lone decay.
The gentle gales of spring went by,
The fruits and flowers of summer die.
The autumn winds swept o'er the hill,
And winter's breath came cold and chill.
The leaf now yielded to the blast,
And on the rushing stream was cast.
Far, far it glided to the sea,
And whirled and eddied wearily,
Till suddenly it sank to rest,
And slumbered in the ocean's breast.
Thus life begins-its morning hours,
Bright as the birthday of the flowers-
Thus passes like the leaves away,
As withered and as lost as they.
Beneath the parent roof we meet
In joyous groups, and gaily greet
The golden beams of love and light.
That kindle to the youthful sight.
But soon we part, and one by one,
Like leaves and flowers, the group is gone.
One gentle spirit seeks the tomb,
His brow yet fresh with childhood's bloom.
Another treads the paths of fame,
And barters peace to win a name.
Another still tempts fortune's wave,
And seeking wealth, secures a grave.
The last grasps yet the brittle thread-
Though friends are gone and joy is dead,
Still dares the dark and fretful tide,
And clutches at its power and pride,
Till suddenly the waters sever,
And like the leaf he sinks forever.
A FOUNTAIN varied gambols played,
Close by a humble brook;
While gently murmuring through the glade,
Its peaceful course it took.
Perhaps it gave one envious gaze
Upon the fountain's height,
While glittering in the morning rays,
Pre-eminently bright.
In all the colors of the sky,
Alternately it shone :
The brook observed it with a sigh,
But quietly rolled on.
the bursting pipes were ill supplied;
The fountain ceased to play.
But still the brook its peaceful course
Continued to pursue;
Her ample, inexhausted source,
From nature's fount she drew.
"Now," said the brook, "I bless my fate,
My showy rival gone;
Contented in its native state
My little stream rolls on.
"And all the world has cause, indeed,
To own, with grateful heart,
How much great nature's works excel
The feeble works of art."
Humble usefulness is preferable to idle splendor.
MAKING RESOLUTIONS.
NEVER form a resolution that is not a good one; and when once formed, never break it. If you form a resolution, and then break it, you set yourself a bad example, and you are very likely to follow it. A person may get the habit of breaking his resolutions; this is as bad to the character and mind, as an incurable disease to the body. No person can become great, but by keeping his resolutions; no person ever escaped contempt, who could not keep them. If any of my young friends resolve to read this book through, as proposed in the introduction, I hope they will not fail to do so, unless they have good reasons for it.
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