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Now be thou strong -0! know we not

Our path must lead to this?
A shadow and a trembling still

Were mingled with our bliss !
We plighted our young hearts, when storms

Were dark upon the sky,
In full, deep knowledge of their task-

To suffer and to die!
Be strong! I leave the living voice

or this, my martyr blood,
With the thousand echoes of the hills,

With the torrent's foaming flood,-
A spirit midst the leaves to dwell,

A token on the air,
To rouse the valiant from repose,

The fainting from despair.
Hear it, and bear thou on, my love!

Ay, joyously endure!.
Our mountains must be altars yet,

Inviolate and pure.
There must our God be worshipp'd still

With the worship of the free-
Farewell! there's but one pan

one pang in death, One only-leaving thee !

Mrs. Hemad.

THE PROGRESS OF LIFE. SURVEY the scene of life :-in yonder room Pillow'd in beauty 'neath the cradle gloom, While o'er its features plays an angel smile. A breathing cherub slumbers for a while ; Those budding lips, that faintly-fringed eye, That placid cheek, and uncomplaining sigh, The little limbs in soft embrace entwined, Like flower leaves folded from the gelid wind All in their tender charms her babe endear, And feed the luxury of a mother's fear.

Next, mark her infant, raised to childhood's stage,
Bound in the bloom of that delightful age-
With heart as light as sunshine on the deep,
And eye that wo has scarcely taught to weep!
The tip-toe gaze, the pertinacious ken,
Each rival attribute of mimick'd men,
The swift decision, and unbridled way,
Now picture forth his yet auspicious day.

Whether at noon he guides his tiny boat,
By winding streams, and woody banks remote,
Or climbs the meadow tree, or trails the kite,
Till clouds aerial veil his wondering sight;
Or wanders forth among far woods alone,
To catch with ravish'd ear the cuckoo's tone,
A hand above o'ershades the venturous boy,
And draws the daily circle of his joy!

And thus, when manhood brings its weight of care,
To swell the heart, and curb the giddy air,
The father, friend, the patriot and the man,
Share in the love of Heaven's parental plan;
Till age o'ersteal his mellow'd form at last,
And wintry locks tell summer youth is past;
Then, like the sun slow-wheeling to the wave,
He sinks with glory to a welcome grave.

R. Montgomery.

INDEPENDENCE OF CHARACTER. It is necessary to an easy and happy life, to possess our minds in such a manner as to be always well satisfied with our own reflections. The way to this state is to measure our actions by our own opinion, and not by that of the rest of the world. The sense of other men ought

to prevail over us in things of less consideration, but not in concerns where truth and honour are engaged. When we look into the bottom of things, what at first appears a paradox is a plain truth; and those professions, which, for want of being duly weighed, seem to proceed from a sort of romantic philosophy, and ignorance of the world, after a little reflection, are so reasonable, that it is direct madness to walk by any other rules. Thus, to contradict our desires, and to conquer the impulses of our ambition, if they do not fall in with what we in our inward sentiments approve, is so much our interest, and so absolutely necessary to our real happiness, that to contemn all the wealth and power in the world, where they stand in competition with a man's honour, is rather good sense than greatness of mind.

Did we consider that the mind of a man is the man himself, we should think it the most unnatural sort of self-murder to sacrifice the sentiment of the soul to gratify the appetites of the body. Bless us! is it possible, that when the necessities of life are supplied, a man would flatter to be rich, or circumvent to be powerful! When we meet a poor wretch, urged with hunger and cold, asking an alms, we are apt to think this a state we could rather starve than subrnit to: but yet how much more despicable is his condition, who is above necessity, and yet shall resign his reason and his integrity to purchase superfluities! Both these are abject and common beggars; but sure it is less despicable to beg a supply to a man's hunger than his vanity. But custom and gene. ral prepossessions have so far prevailed over an unthinking world, that those necessitous creatures, who cannot relish life without applause, attendance, and equipage, are so far from making a contemptible figure, that distressed virtue is less esteemed than successful vice. But if a man's appeal, in cases that regard his honour, were made to his own soul, there would be a basis and standing rule for our conduct, and we should always endeavour rather to be, than appear honourable. Mr. Collier, in his.“ Essay on Fortitude,” has treated this subject with great wit and magnanimity. 6What,” says he, “ can be more honourable than to have courage enough to execute the commands of reason and conscience ? to maintain the dignity of our nature, and the station assigned us ? to be proof against poverty, pain, and death itself? I mean so far as not to do any thing that is scandalous or sinful to avoid them. To stand adversity under all shapes with decency and resolution ? To do this, is to be great above title and fortune. This argues the soul of a heavenly extraction, and is worthy the offspring of the Deity."

What a generous ambition has this man pointed to us? When men have settled in themselves a conviction, by such noble precepts, that there is nothing honourable which is not accompanied with innocence; nothing mean but what has guilt in it: I say, when they have attained thus much, though poverty, pain, and death may still retain their terrors; yet riches, pleasures, and honours will easily lose their charms, if they stand between us and our integrity.

What is here said with allusion to fortune and fame, may as justly be applied to wit and beauty ; for these latter are as adventitious as the other, and as little concern the essence of the soul. They are all laudable in the man who possesses them, only for the just application of them. A bright imagination, while it is subservient to an honest and noble soul, is a faculty which makes a man justly admired by mankind, and furnishes him with reflections upon his own actions, which add delicates to the feast of a good conscience : but when wit descends to wait upon sensual pleasures, or promote the base purposes of ambition, it is then to be contemned in proportion to its excellence. If a man will not resolve to place the foundation of his happiness in his own mind, life is a bewildered and unhappy state, incapable of rest or tranquillity. For to such a one, the general applause of valour, wit, nay, of honesty itself, can give him but a very feeble comfort; since it is capable of being interrupted by any one who wants either understanding or good nature to see or acknowledge such excellencies. This rule is so necessary, that one may very safely say, it is impossible to know any true relish of our being without it. Look about you in common life among the ordinary

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