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And though we've broken all Heaven's laws,

If we in pure repentance bow Before the Throne,-He'll plead our cause,

He knows our nature's weakness now. Then, sinner, to that Saviour turn;

Our watchful Guardian never sleeps : The contrite heart he will not spurn,

And when the lost one dies, He weeps.

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The Flower of Memory.

How sweetly blue this little flower,

Emblem of all to Friendship dear! How modest in a bloom-girt bower! Yet still it deigns to breathe its power

Even in this breast;- yes, fondly here It blows through many a weary hour.

May memory never leave a blot

Upon thy bosom in its bloom,
And may I be by all forgot,
Retained not even in kindred's knot,

Or ere with thee it find a tomb,
Then, dearest girl, FORGET ME Not!

An Aspiration.

Were mine a home in some fairy isle,
Where the sunbeams of Summer eternally smile,
With porphyry pillars at palace gate,
And gold-broidered pages my nod to wait ;-
Were mine the great conqueror's meed, renown,
And earth's brightest bauble, a princely crown-
In the arms of my love, not a serf at my call,
One bright dream of rapture were dearer than all.

Give me the love-look of her sunbright eye,
My day-beam of life. Let my lullaby
Be her joy-giving song, as when at eve
The wanton zephyr and wild rose weave
Their sweetness and music in tender play ;-
Give me her smile at the dawn of day:
Then an exile on earth you may turn me free,
And happy and rich in that smile I'll be.

Prose and Poesy.

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Every copse,
Deep-tangled—tree irregular, and bush,
Are prodigal of harmony.Thompson.

Ut pictura poesis sit.-Horace.

What is a Poem ?« Language too sublime

For rampant prose, and measured out in feet, Where wit and beauty beat an equal time,

In soft ideas, intonations sweet. What is a Rhyme? This hath been often asked.

A sentiment made up of jingling ends, With which the French gallants were often tasked,

To show their genius to their ladies' friends.

Psha! this is th' acceptation of a fool!

No sane man, that had seen the world, would say That words were verse, when meted by a rule,

Though such is quite “the order of the day.” Such were my musings, when I dreamed a dream: An old man stood beside me,

-on his head White hairs were shining with a silver gleam,

Who thus, in tones of music, calmly said !

Thro' many years to pass a toilsome round

Of weary travel in a foreign land-
No heart in friendship to the wanderer bound,

Who meets thro' all his way no outstretch'd hand; With sorrow arm-in-arm to tread that path,

'Mid countless trials, misery, and strife,

Nor feel appeased stern fate's impending wrath,

Oh, is not this the Prose of human life?

And when, in dull monotony, a round

Of haps, without a pain, a woe, a care, Encircle him by business closely bound,

No early pang thus whitening his dark hair, Or when in solitude, 'neath storm and shine, There wends his way, with feelings calm and

terse, The mild recluse, whose visions are divine,

What is that but society's Blank Verse ?

But in a springtide of requited love,

Mid wealth, and honour, and renown, to live One's life's best days—without a foe to move

In all the joys a peaceful mind can give :This is the brightest gift of Heaven to man,

The choicest scene that he on earth can view, 'Tis music, measured by life's fairest span,

With all its green unclouded beauties too.

Grief, then, and its attendant ills, are all

The essays, tales, and histories of PROSE; While life, without its joys doth dimly fall,

And o'er the page its Blank Verse darkly throws. But mutual love and friendship,-bliss supreme !

Deckt out in flowers of sweetest melody, Is here and there an “oasis," -a theme

Fit only to be called Life's PoESY.

To Mr. Guy Leslie,
On his Departure for America, June, 1843.

Farewell !—'tis often pray'd ;- that word, Alas, is easy

said ; It comes without the heart's accord,

When feeling too is dead.
But oh, if ever one adieu

Was to another given,
That spoke heart-feeling, mine to you

Is such in sight of Heaven.

For we, when merry boys, have strayed

Together o'er the hills,
And wandered thro' the woodland glade

To bathe in chrystal rills';
And when worn out with nature's charms,

Knelt the same couch beside Then circled in each other's arms,

Have slumbered side by side.

Manhood has come with all its cares,

And brought its lot to each ; Mine is amid a city's snares,

And thine—thou ne'er may'st reach. Hope we the best ;-on foreign soil

Thy portion's in the woods, А weary life of ceaseless toil,

'Mongst savages and floods.

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