And it speedeth a terrified Deucalion, flinging back the pebble in his flight,
The pebble that must add one more to those pursuing ghosts;*
O man! there is a storm behind should drive thy bark to haven;
The foe, the foe is on thy track-patient, certain, and avenging;
Day by day, solemnly and silently, followeth the fearful past-
His step is lame, but sure; for he catcheth the present in eternity:
And how to escape that foe, the present-past in future?
How to avert that fate, living consequence of causes unexistent?—
Boldly we must overleap his birth, and date above his memories,
Grafted on the living Tree that was before a yesterday;
No refuge of a younger birth than one that saw creation
Can hide the child of time from still condemning yesterday.

There is the Sanctuary-city, mocking at the wrath of thine Avenger; Close at hand, with its wicket on the latch; haste for thy life, poor, hunted one!

The gladiator, Guilt, fighteth as of old, armed with net and dagger;
Snaring in the mesh of yesterdays, stabbing with the poniard of to-day:
Fly, thy sword is broken at the hilt; fly, thy shield is shivered;
Leap the barriers, and baffle him: the arena of the past is his.
The bounds of Guilt are the cycles of Time; thou must be safe within
The arms of God alone shall rescue thee from Yesterday.

[Eternity;

OF TO-DAY.

Now, is the constant syllable ticking from the clock of time,

Now, is the watchword of the wise, Now, is on the banner of the prudent, Cherish thy to-day and prize it well, or ever it be gulfed into the past; Husband it, for who can promise if it shall have a morrow?

Behold thou art-it is enough; that present care be thine;

Leave thou the past to thy Redeemer, intrust the future to thy Friend;

* "Deucalion flinging back the pebble in his flight," &c.]

"Descendunt; velantque caput, tunicasque recingunt;
Et jussos lapides sua post vestigia mittunt.

Saxa (quis hoc credat, nisi sit pro teste vetustas?)
Ponere duritiem cœpêre, suumque rigorem," &c. &c.

In-que brevi spatio, superorem munere, saxa

Missa viri manibus faciem traxêre virilem."

Ovid. Met. lib. 1.

But for to-day, child of man, tend thou charily the minutes,
The harvest of thy yesterday, the seed-corn of thy morrow.

LAST night died its day: and the deeds thereof were judged: [slumber;
Thou didst lay thee down as in a shroud, in darkness and deathlike
But at the trumpet of this morn, waking the world to resurrection,
Thou didst arise, like others, to live a new day's life;

Fear, lest folly give thee cause to mourn its passing presence,
Fear, that to-morrow's sigh be not, Would God it had not dawned!

FOR, To-day, the lists are set, and thou must bear thee bravely,
Tilting for honour, duty, life, or death without reproach:
To-day, is the trial of thy fortitude, O dauntless Mandan chief!
To-day, is thy watch, O sentinel! to-day, thy reprieve, O captive!
What more? to-day, is the golden chance wherewith to snatch fruition-
Be glad, grateful, temperate: there are asps among the figs.

For the potter's clay is in thy hands-to mould it or to mar it at thy will,
Or idly to leave it in the sun, an uncouth lump to harden.

O BRIGHT presence of To-day, let me wrestle with thee, gracious angel!
I will not let thee go, except thou bless me; bless me, then, To-day;
O sweet garden of To-day, let me gather of thee, precious Eden!
I have stolen bitter knowledge, give me fruits of life To-day:
O true temple of To-day, let me worship in thee, glorious Zion!
I find none other place nor time, than where I am To-day;
O living rescue of To-day, let me run unto thee, ark of refuge!
I see none other hope nor chance, but standeth in To-day;
O rich banquet of To-day, let me feast upon thee, saving manna!
I have none other food nor store, but daily bread To-day!

BEHOLD, thou art pilot of the ship, and owner of that freighted galleon, Competent, with all thy weakness, to steer into safety or be lost; Compass and chart are in thy hand; roadstead and rocks thou knowest; Thou art warned of reefs and shallows; thou beholdest the harbour and its lights.

[ers?

What! shall thy wantonness or sloth drive the gallant vessel on the break-
What! shall the helmsman's hand wear upon the black lee shore?
Vain is that excuse; thou canst escape; thy mind is responsible for wrong;
Vain that murmur; thou mayst live; thy soul is debtor for the right.

To-day, in the voyage of thy life down the dark tide of time,
Stand boldly to thy tiller, guide thee by the pole-star, and be safe;
To-day, passing near the sunken rocks, the quicksands and whirlpools

of probation, [be wrecked. Leave awhile the rudder to swing round, give the wind its heading, and

THE crisis of man's destiny is Now, a still recurring danger;
Who can tell the trials and temptations coming with the coming hour?
Thou standest a target-like Sebastian, and the arrows whistle near thee;
Who knoweth when he may be hit? for great is the company of archers.
Each breath is burdened with a bidding, and every minute hath its mission;
For spirits, good and bad, cluster on the thickly-peopled air;
Sin may blast thee, grace may bless thee, good or ill this hour:
Chance, and change, and doubt, and fear, are parasites of all.
A man's life is a tower, with a staircase of many steps,

That, as he toileth upward, crumble successively behind him;

No going back, the past is an abyss; no stopping, for the present perisheth; But ever hastening on, precarious on the foothold of To-day.

Our cares are all To-day; our joys are all To-day;

And in one little word, our life, what is it, but-To-day?

OF TO-MORROW.

THERE is a floating island, forward, on the stream of time,
Buoyant with fermenting air, and borne along the rapids;
And on that island is a siren, singing sweetly as she goeth;
Her eyes are bright with invitation, and allurement lurketh in her cheeks;
Many lovers, vainly pursuing, follow her beckoning finger,
Many lovers seek her still, even to the cataract of death.
To-morrow is that island, a vain and foolish heritage,
And, laughing with seductive lips, Delusion hideth there.
Often, the precious present is wasted in visions of the future,
And coy To-morrow cometh not with prophecies fulfilled.

THERE is a fairy skiff, plying on the sea of life,

And charitably toiling still to save the shipwrecked crews;

Within, kindly patient, sitteth a gentle mariner,

Piloting through surf and strait the fragile barks of men :
How cheering is her voice, how skilfully she guideth,
How nobly leading onward yet, defying even death!
To-morrow is that skiff, a wise and welcome rescue,

And, full of gladdening words and looks, that mariner is Hope.
Often, the painful present is comforted by flattering the future,
And kind To-morrow beareth half the burdens of To-day.

TO-MORROW, whispereth weakness; and To-morrow findeth him the weaker;

To-morrow, promiseth conscience; and behold no To-day for a fulfilment, O name of happy omen unto youth, O bitter word of terror to the dotard, Goal of folly's lazy wish, and sorrow's ever-coming friend,

Fraud's loop-hole-caution's hint-and trap to catch the honest

Thou wealth to many poor, disgrace to many noble,

Thou hope and fear, thou weal and wo, thou remedy, thou ruin,
How thickly swarms of thought are clustering round To-morrow!
The hive of memory increaseth, to every day its cell;
There is the labour stored, the honey or corruption;
Each morn the bees fly forth to fill the growing comb,
And levy golden tribute of the uncomplaining flowers;
To-morrow is their care; they toil for rest To-morrow;
But man deferreth duty's task, and loveth ease To-day.

TO-MORROW is that lamp upon the marsh, which a traveller never reacheth;
To-morrow, the rainbow's cup, coveted prize of ignorance;

To-morrow, the shifting anchorage, dangerous trust of mariners;
To-morrow, the wrecker's beacon, wily snare of the destroyer.
Reconcile conviction with delay, and To-morrow is a fatal lie;
Frighten resolutions into action, To-morrow is a wholesome truth;
I must, for 1 fear To-morrow; this is the Cassava's food;
Why should I? let me trust To-morrow-this is the Cassava's poison.

Lo, it is the even of To-day-a day so lately a To-morrow!
Where are those high resolves, those hopes of yesternight?
O faint, fond heart, still shall thy whisper be, To-morrow;
And must the growing avalanche of sin roll down that easy slope! [it;
Alas! it is ponderous, and moving on in might, that a Sisyphus may not stop

But haste thee with the lever of a prayer, and stem its strength To-day; For its race may speedily be run, and this poor hut, thyself,

Be whelmed in death and suffocating guilt, that dreary Alpine snow wreath.

PENSIONER of life, be wise, and heed a brother's counsel;

I also am a beadsman, with scrip and staff as thou;

Wouldest thou be bold against the past, and all its evil memories, Wouldest thou be safe amid the present, its dangers and temptations, Wouldest thou be hopeful of the future, vague though it be and endless? Haste thee, repent, believe, obey! thou standest in the courage of a legion: Commend the Past to God, with all its irrevocable harm,

Humbly, but in cheerful trust, and banish vain regrets;

Come to him, continually come, casting all the Present at his feet,
Boldly, but in prayerful love, and fling off selfish cares;
Commit the Future to his will, the viewless, fated Future;
Zealously go forward with integrity, and God will bless thy faith.
For that, feeble as thou art, there is with thee a mighty Conqueror,
Thy friend, the same for ever, yesterday, to-day, and to-morrow;
That friend, changeless as eternity, himself shall make thee friends
Of those thy foes transformed, yesterday, to-day, and to-morrow.

OF AUTHORSHIP.

GREAT is the dignity of Authorship: I magnify mine office;
Albeit in much feebleness I hold it thus unworthily.

For it is to be one of a noble band, the welfare of the world,

Whose haunt is on the lips of men, whose dwelling in their hearts,
Who are precious in the retrospect of Memory, and walk among the visions

of Hope,

Who commune with the good for everlasting, and call the wisest, brother, Whose voice hath burst the Silence, and whose light is flung upon the

Darkness,

-Flashing jewels on a robe of black, and harmony bounding out of chaosWho gladden empires with their wisdom, and bless to the farthest generDoers of illimitable good, gainers of inestimable glory!

[ation,

We speak but of the Magnates, we heed none humbler than the highest,