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النشر الإلكتروني

Ah, which can best be spared ?

Whom will the rest resign?
Or rather, which is best prepared

To say, The turn be mine,

First to engage the mighty foe?
'Tis Death approaches—who will go?

The loveliest and the dearest,

Whose smile threw gladness round; The loss of whom, to all severest,

Shall plant the deepest wound, Their pride, their life, their solace_she, Said the dread voice, my bride shall be.

Vain boast! 'Twas not thy choice,

O Death, that laid her low.

The mandate was a Father's voice,

And wisdom ruled the blow :

The fleshly robe alone thy prey,
While angels bore the soul away.

I heard from heaven crying,

An angel voice that said,
Bless'd are the dead, in Jesus dying,

Yea, blessed are the dead.

Sleep thou in Christ, my sister ! Rest
Is thine, the slumber of the blest.

I heard, from earth proceeding,

Another voice proclaim :
This dust, in beauty far exceeding

The frail, decaying frame,
Shall be refunded all, shall rise

Fit for the service of the skies.

Ah, soon the cheek is dry,

And wounds the deepest heal: Memory at length forgets to sigh,

And Grief forgets to feel. Soon spreads the turf, and flowrets bloom O'er the abysses of the tomb.

Then, while the cheek is wet,

And while the heart is wise,

And, blending with each fond regret,

Some better thoughts arise,
Let Heaven each soften'd heart obtain,

Nor let a sister die in vain.

THE REVERIE.

66 Animula vagula, blandula,

Hospes comesque corporis,
Quæ nunc abibis in loca,
Pallidula, rigida, nudula ?
Nec, ut soles, dabis jocos.”

Emperor Adrian to his Soul.

PART I.

TO

O THAT in unfetter'd union

Spirit could with spirit blend !

O that in unseen communion

Thought could hold the distant friend !

Who the secrets can unravel

Of the body's mystic guest ?
Who knows how the soul may travel,

While unconsciously we rest ?

While, in pleasing thraldom lying,

Seal'd in slumber deep it seems, Far abroad it may be flying :

What is Sleep? and what are Dreams ? Earth, how narrow thy dominions,

And how slow the body's pace! O to range on eagle pinions

Through illimitable space !

What is Thought? In wild succession

Whence proceeds the motley train ? What first stamps the vague impression

On the ever active brain ?

What is Thought? and whither tending,

Does the subtle phantom flee? Does it, like a moonbeam ending,

Shine, then melt to vacancy?

Has a strange, mysterious feeling,

Something shapeless, undefined,

O'er thy lonely musings stealing,

Ne'er impress'd thy pensive mind; As if he, whose strong resemblance

Fancy at that moment drew, By coincident remembrance

Knew your thoughts, and thought of you?

When, at Mercy's footstool bending,

Thou hast felt a sacred glow,Faith and Hope to heaven ascending,

Love still lingering below; Say, has ne'er the thought impress'd thee,

That thy friend might feel thy prayer ?

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