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THE NUN.

Her eye is raised to heaven:-no ray is there

Of earthly pride, or passion. . O'er her brow

Angelic, as she breathes the solemn vow,
A bright expression spreads. Her rich, soft hair,

In radiant ringlets, down her bosom fair

Falls-like the beams of morning on the prow

Of the light heaving bark. 'Tis past, and now
A pale and pensive hue her features wear.

So young-so beautiful, to turn aside

From life's fresh opening scenes, and sunny hours,

Seems like religion's triumph—but the heart
Strives from itself in vain the truth to hide:

The sigh will rise, the tender tear will start:
Ah! love yet lingers o'er his faded flowers !

WILLIAM CROSWELL.

The Reverend William Croswell was graduated at Yale College in 1824. He was for two years joint editor with the Rev. G. W. Doane, of The Episcopal Watchman, a religious paper in Hartford. In this paper most of his poetry has been published; it evinces talent and good taste.

CONFIRMATION.

The white-stoled Bishop stood amid a crowd

Noviciates all-who, tutor'd to revere

The mitre's holy offices, drew near,
And, after sins renounced, and pledges vow'd,

Pale with emotion and religious fear,
In meek subjection, round the chancel, bow'd,

To hallow'd hands, that o'er them, one by one,
Fell, with a Prelate's thrilling benison.

Thou who canst make the loadstone's touch impart

An active virtue to the temper'd steel,

Oh let thy hand rest on them till they feel
A new-born impulse stirring in the heart,
And, swinging from surrounding objects, free,
Point, with a tremulous confidence to Thee !

DRINK AND AWAY.

'There is a beautiful rill in Barbary received into a large basin, which bears a name signifying “Drink and Away," from the great danger of meeting with rogues and assassins.-Dr Shaw.

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But wrapt in high vision,

Look on to the day
When the fountains elysian

Thy thirst shall allay.
There shalt thou for ever

Enjoy thy repose
Where life's gentle river

Eternally flows,
Yea, there shalt thou rest thee

For ever and aye,
With none to molest thee-

Then, drink and away.

HOME.

I KNEW my father's chimney top,

Though nearer to my heart than eye, And watch'd the blue smoke reeking up

Between me and the winter sky.

Wayworn I traced the homeward track,

My wayward youth had left with joy;
Unchanged in soul I wander'd back,

A man, in years—in heart, a boy.
I thought upon its cheerful hearth,

And cheerful hearts' untainted glee,
And felt of all I'd seen on earth,

This was the dearest spot to me.

SONNET VINDICATORY.

Nuns fret not at their Convent's narrow room ;

And Hermits are contented with their cells ;

And Students with their pensive citadels; Maids at the wheel, the Weaver at his loom, Sit blithe and happy ; Bees that soar for_bloom,

High as the highest peak of Furness Fells,

Will murmur by the hour in fox-glove bells. In truth the prison unto which we doom

Ourselves, no prison is; and hence to me,

In sundry moods, 't was pastime to be bound
Within the sonnet's scanty plot of ground;

Pleased if some souls (for such there needs must be)

Who've felt the weight of too much liberty, Should find short solace there, as I have found.

SOUTH SEA MISSIONARIES.

With pleasure not unmix'd with pain,
They find their

passage o'er,
As with the Sabbath’s dawn they gain

That islet's rocky shore.
Behind them is the sweltry main,

The torrid land before.

No sound was in the silence heard

To break the air of balm,
Save when the screaming tropic bird

Wheel'd seaward in the calm:
The faint and heated breeze scarce stirr'd

The streamers of the palm.

The shipman in the distance sees

Across the glowing bay,
The crowded, strawbuilt cottages,

Like sunburnt ricks of hay,
Beneath the tall banana trees,

Bask in the morning ray.
And as that self-devoted band

Of christian hearts drew near,
No cool and bracing current fann'd

The lifeless atmosphere;-
Why should they seek that savage land

So desolate and drear ?

In faith, those far-off shores they trod,

This humble six or seven,
And through those huts of matted sod

Shall spread the gospel leaven,
Till each becomes a house of God,

A mercy gate of Heaven.

CHRISTMAS.

THE thickly woven boughs they wreathe

Through every hallow'd fane,
A soft reviving odor breathe

Of Summer's gentle reign;
And rich the ray of mild green light

Which like an emerald's glow,
Comes struggling through the latticed height,

Upon the crowds below.
O let the streams of solemn thought

Which in those temples rise
From deeper sources spring than aught

Dependant on the skies.
Then though the summer's glow departs,

And winter's withering chill
Rests on the cheerless woods, our hearts

Shall be unchanging still.

JAMES HALL,

EDITOR of the Western Souvenir.

WEDDED LOVE'S FIRST HOME.

'T was far beyond yon mountains, dear, we plighted vows of

love, The ocean wave was at our feet, the autumn sky above, The pebbly shore was covered o'er with many å varied shell, And on the billows' curling spray, the sunbeams glittering fell. The storm has vexed that billow oft, and oft that sun hath set, But plighted love remains with us, in peace and lustre yet. I wiled

thee to a lonely haunt, that bashful love might speak, Where none could hear what love revealed, or see the crimson

cheek; The shore was all deserted, and we wandered there alone,

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