ALAS! they had been friends in youth: But whispering tongues can poison truth; And constancy lives in realms above; And life is thorny; and youth is vain ; And to be wroth with one we love
Doth work like madness in the brain. And thus it chanced, as I divine, With Roland and Sir Leoline!
Each spoke words of high disdain
And insult to his heart's best brother; They parted-ne'er to meet again! But never either found another To free the hollow heart from paining; They stood aloof, the scars remaining, Like cliffs which had been rent asunder; A dreary sea now flows between,
But neither heat, nor frost, nor thunder,
Shall wholly do away, I ween,
The marks of that which once hath been.
Ir happened on a solemn even tide, Soon after He who was our surety died, Two bosom friends, each pensively inclined, The scene of all their sorrows left behind: Sought their own village, busied as they went, In musings worthy of the great event;
They spake of Him they loved, of Him whose
Though blameless, had incurred perpetual strife, Whose deeds had left, in spite of hostile arts, A deep memorial graven on their hearts. The recollection, like a vein of ore,
The further traced enriched them still the more; They thought him, and they justly thought him
Sent to do more than he appeared to have done; To exalt a people and to place them high Above all else, and wondered he should die. Ere yet they brought their journey to an end, A stranger joined them, courteous as a friend, And asked them, with a kind, engaging air, What their affliction was, and begged a share. Informed, he gathered up the broken thread, And truth and wisdom gracing all he said, Explained, illustrated, and searched so well The tender theme on which they chose to dwell,
THE SOURCE OF CONSOLATION.
That reaching home-" The night," they said,
We need not now be parted-sojourn here." The new acquaintance soon became a guest, And made so welcome at their simple feast,, He blessed the bread, but vanished at the word, And left them both exclaiming—“ 'twas the
Did not our hearts feel all he deigned to say, Did they not burn within us by the way?"
THE SOURCE OF CONSOLATION
FRIENDSHIP! I thought thee once a pleasing thing, When childhood flattered me with golden
Too rash, I trusted to thy waxen wing, Against Affliction's melting beams:
I knew not till they fell, how light, how vain Were all thy boasted mighty powers;
Fair promiser in happy hours,
But flying from our pain.
When youth allured me from my mother's knee, To sports, companions, and unthinking days, I thought the sun and seasons made for me: Smoothly we enter life's delusive maze ;
By inexperience led, and hope deceived, I sometimes trusted ere my heart inquired; So soon is what we wish admired,
And what we love believed.
But Heavenly love, that did my good intend, Stripped me of these to bring me better joys; Removing worldly prospects, substance, friend, And gave itself in change for earthly toys. Ah, my dear Lord, how little did I know, When their mourned loss first fixed my smart, Thou didst but rend them from my heart, That thou mightst more bestow.
IN ANSWER TO SOME LINES EXHORTING THE AUTHOR
TO BE CHEERFUL, AND TO BANISH CARE."
"OH banish care,"-such ever be
The motto of thy revelry!
Perchance of mine, when wassail nights Renew those riotous delights,
Wherewith the children of despair
Lull the lone heart, and " banish care." But not in morn's reflecting hour,
When present, past, and future lower,
When all I loved is changed or gone,
Mock with such taunts the woes of one, Whose every thought-but let them pass- Thou knowst I am not what I was, But above all, if thou wouldst hold Place in a heart that ne'er was cold, By all the powers that men revere, By all unto thy bosom dear, Thy joys below, thy hopes above, Speak-speak of any thing but love.
'Twere long to tell, and vain to hear, The tale of one who scorns a tear; And there is little in that tale Which better bosoms would bewail, But mine has suffered more than well 'Twould suit philosophy to tell. I've seen my bride another's bride,- Have seen her seated by his side- Have seen the infant, which she bore, Wear the sweet smile the mother wore When she and I in youth have smiled, As fond and faultless as her child- Have seen her eyes in cold disdain, Ask if I felt no secret pain; And I have acted well my part, And made my cheek belie my heart; Returned the freezing glance she gave, Yet felt the while that woman's slave !—
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