Bright Rapture calls, and soaring as she sings,
Waves in the eye of Heaven her many-colour'd wings.

"The verse adorn again

III.-3.

Fierce War, and faithful Love,

And Truth severe, by fairy Fiction dress'd,

In buskin'd measures move

Pale Grief, and pleasing Pain,

With Horror, tyrant of the throbbing breast. A voice, as of the cherub-choir,

Gales from blooming Eden bear;

And distant warblings lessen on my ear,

That lost in long futurity expire.

Fond impious man! think'st thou yon sanguine cloud, Raised by thy breath, has quench'd the orb of day? To-morrow he repairs the golden flood,

And warms the nation with redoubled ray. Enough for me; with joy I see

The different dooms our fates assign.

Be thine despair and sceptred care;
To triumph, and to die, are mine!"

He spoke, and headlong from the mountain's height
Deep in the roaring tide he plunged to endless night.

GRAY.

HOPE.

UNFADING Hope! when life's last embers burn-
When soul to soul, and dust to dust return,
Heaven to thy charge resigns the awful hour!
Oh! then thy kingdom comes, Immortal Power!
What though each spark of earth-born rapture fly
The quivering lip, pale cheek, and closing eye!
Bright to the soul thy seraph hands convey
The morning dream of life's eternal day—
Then, then the triumph and the trance begin,
And all the Phoenix spirit burns within!

Oh, deep-enchanting prelude to repose,
The dawn of bliss, the twilight of our woes!
Yet half I hear the parting spirit sigh,
It is a dread and awful thing to die?
Mysterious worlds, untravell'd by the sun!
Where time's far-wandering tide has never run,
From your unfathom'd shades and viewless spheres,
A warning comes, unheard by other ears.
'Tis Heaven's commanding trumpet, long and loud,
Like Sinai's thunder, pealing from the cloud!
While Nature hears, with terror-mingled trust
The shock that hurls her fabric to the dust;
With mortal terrors clouds immortal bliss,
And shrieks and hovers o'er the dark abyss!

Daughter of Faith, awake, arise, illume The dread unknown, the chaos of the tomb! Melt and dispel, ye spectre-doubts, that roll Cimmerian darkness on the parting soul ! Fly, like the moon-eyed herald of Dismay, Chased, on his night-steed, by the star of day! The strife is o'er-the pangs of Nature close, And life's last rapture triumphs o'er her woes. Hark! as the spirit eyes, with eagle gaze, The noon of Heaven, undazzled by the blaze, On heavenly winds, that waft her to the sky, Float the sweet tones of star-born melody; Wild as that hallow'd anthem sent to hail Bethlehem's shepherds in the lonely vale, When Jordan hush'd his waves, and midnight still Watch'd on the holy towers of Zion hill!

CAMPBELL.

THE HARE AND MANY FRIENDS.

FRIENDSHIP, like love, is but a nanie,
Unless to one you stint the flame;
The child whom many fathers share
Hath seldom known a father's care.
'Tis thus in friendship; who depend
On many, rarely find a friend.

A hare, who in a civil way
Complied with everything, like GAY,
Was known by all the bestial train,
Who haunt the wood or graze the plain ;
Her care was never to offend,
And every creature was her friend.

As forth she went at early dawn, To taste the dew-besprinkled lawn, Behind she hears the hunter's cries, And from the deep-mouth'd thunder flies; She starts, she stops, she pants for breath; She hears the near advance of death;

She doubles, to mislead the hound,

And measures back her

mazy round

"Till, fainting in the public way,

Half-dead with fear she gasping lay.

;

What transport in her bosom grew When first the horse appear'd in view!

THE HARE AND MANY FRIENDS.

"Let me," says she, "your back ascend,
And owe my safety to a friend :
You know my feet betray my flight :
To friendship every burden's light."

The horse replied, "Poor honest Puss,
It grieves my heart to see thee thus ;
Be comforted, relief is near,

For all your friends are in the rear.'

She next the stately bull implored,
And thus replied the mighty lord :—
"Since every beast alive can tell
That I sincerely wish you well;
I may, without offence, pretend
To take the freedom of a friend.
Love calls me hence: a favourite cow
Expects me near the barley-mow;
And when a lady's in the case,

You know all other things give place.
To leave you thus might seem unkind;
But see, the goat is just behind."

The goat remark'd, her pulse was high,
Her languid head, her heavy eye :
"My back," says he, "may do you harm ;
The sheep's at hand, and wool is warm.”

The sheep was feeble, and complain'd

His sides a load of wool sustain'd;
Said he was slow; confess'd his fears ;
For hounds ate sheep as well as hares.

She next the trotting caif address'd,
To save from death a friend distress'd.

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