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Care and peril in lieu of joy,
Guilt and dread may be thine, proud boy :
Lo, thy mantling chalice of life
Is foaming with sorrow, and sickness, and strife;
Cheated by pleasure, and sated with pain,—
-It is well. I discern a tear on thy cheek:
For life, good youth, hath never an ill
Which hope cannot scatter, and faith cannot kill
The free-spreading wings of a cheerful mind.
THE SONG OF SEVENTY.
I AM not old,-I cannot be old,
I am not old; though friends and foes
I am not old,—I cannot be old,
For early memories round me throng,
1 look behind, and am once more young,
And my heart can sing, as of yore it sung,
I do not see her,—the old wife there—
But I look on her blooming, and soft, and fair,
I do not see you, daughters and sons,
In the likeness of women and men, But I kiss you now as I kissed you once, My fond little children then:
And as my own grandson rides on my knee,
I can well recollect I was merry as he-
"Tis not long since,-it cannot be long,-
Since I was a boy, both straight and strong,
A dream, a dream,-it is all a dream!
Eye hath not seen, tongue hath not told,
How buoyant and bold, though it seem to grow old,
For ever young,-though life's old age
AWAY with false fashion, so calm and so chill,
For the deepest in feeling is highest in rank,
And nature's own Nobleman, friendly and frank,
Fearless in honesty, gentle yet just,
Nor will he bow down with his face in the dust
For best in good breeding, and highest in rank,
Is nature's own Nobleman, friendly and frank,
His fashion is passion, sincere and intense,
Yet tempered by judgment, and taught by good sense,
And cordial with me, and with you:
For the finest in manners, as highest in rank,
It is you, man! or you, man! who stand Nature's own Nobleman, friendly and frank,—
A man with his heart in his hand!
NEVER GIVE UP.
NEVER give up! it is wiser and better
And break the dark spell of tyrannical care:
The watchword of life must be, Never give up!
Never give up! there are chances and changes
Knowing that Providence mingles the cup,
Is the true watchword of Never give up!
Never give up!--though the grape-shot may rattle,
Little shall harm you, though doing their worst: Never give up!—if adversity presses,
Providence wisely has mingled the cup, And the best counsel, in all your distresses, Is the stout watchword of Never give up!
BLAME not, ye million worshippers of gold-
As to God's central throne; for when the blaze Of that grand eye is on me, and I stand
Watching its majesty with painful gaze, I too could kneel among that Persian band,
Had not the Architect of yon bright sphere Taught me Himself; bidding me look above,
Beneath, around, and still to find Him-here! King of the heart, dwelling in no fixt globe,
But gladly throned within the spirit of love, Wearing that light ethereal as a robe.
I KNOW thee not, O moon,-thou caverned realm,
Where cold, alternate, and the sulphurous breath
All chance of life like ours,-art thou not
Some fallow world, after a reaping time Of creatures' judgment, resting in thy lot? Or haplier must I take thee for the blot
On God's fair firmament, the home of crime, The prison-house of sin, where damned souls
Feed upon punishment ?—O thought sublime, That, amid Night's black deeds, when evil prowls
Through the broad world, then, watching sinners we!! Glares over all the wakeful eye of Hell!
FAR-FLAMING stars, ye sentinels of Space,