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النشر الإلكتروني

'Tis how the Almighty would will that I Should close my career I'd wish to die.

Oh, would you know why I'd wish to die ;
Has the magic fountain of hope waned dry?
Is love of life from my bosom banished,
Or the fairy dreams of my young days vanished ?
Do the murky waves of human woe
Sweep over my life's frail shallop? No;
"Tis because my Redeemer hath willed that I
Should live for ever I'd wish to die.

But ask me no more the when, the why,
The how, or the where I'd wish to die!
Oh, ask me not, I say again;
Such gloomy queries excite but pain.
Let the wild enthusiast and the saint
What vistas they will of the future paint;
There are thousands will say, and so do I,
He's a craven coward who'd wish to die.

But as the dreadful hour will come,
When man must hear his immortal doom,
And as wise men say that “ What can't be cured,"
By us, like Stoics, “should be endured ;”
The best rule to die that I can give,
Is for us to "live as we ought to live; ”
So when Death takes us our long “Good bye !"
We may smile at his frown, nor fear to die.

(Signed,) J. K.

To my Sister,
On the Anniversary of her Birthday,

MARCH, 1840.

My sister dear, my only one!

Accept a brother's prayer: 'Tis all he hath to offer thee

For all thy youthful care,
Let some present thee gaudy gifts,

While smiles around thee play ;
I'll pour to Heaven my heart-born hopes

On this thy natal day.

I'm far from thee, my sister,

No blossoms can I bringNo fresh and budding earnests

Of early opening Spring,
Still may I hope the roses

Upon thy cheek shall stay,
Till thro' twenty future Winters,

Comes again thy natal day.

May Autumn's blast ne'er waft thee

On thy Summer flowers a blight; May thy days be calm and peaceful

And thy dreams be sweet by night. When in after years I see thee

May'st thou never be less gay, Or less light in heart and spirit

Than on this thy natal day,

And when thou meetst, my sister,

A kindred heart to thine, May fate approve thy bosom's choice,

And ne'er inconstant shine. May thyavedded life be happy

As a life connubial may, With one stranger more to greet thee

Each returning Natal Day.

The Caroline.

She glided along like a bird on the water,

Poising her lifted wing; Quick glancing eyes through the thick haze sought her,

Beautiful, lovely thing.

On dark Navy Island the icebergs were thronging,

Dashed to its rugged shore ;
Hearts that beat high with patriot longing

Throbbed but to beat no more.

At dead of the starlight the foc came upon her,

Sleeping the wave above; Cracked then the firelock,—they boarded and won

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In flames to the rapids she drove.

And there was a light like a meteor's streaming

Seen o'er the vaulted blue; While crackled the planks, and the maddened screaming

Echoed the wild woods through.

The Rapids roar'd loud, as the victim approaching,

Gathered the spreading foam ; In the pride of their vigour they deemed her encroaching

Too far on their rocky home.

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The wraiths of the stream were wildly shrieking

Schlosser stood calmly by ; White-crested waves on her prow were breaking ;

Darker became the sky,

Niagara laughed a hoarse laugh while sucking

The swan to his awful kiss ;
Caroline, for the first and last time ducking,

Leaped down the vast abyss.

Light was thy splash through the Lawrence river,

Swan of the stream, Caroline ; But the spray hath closed o'er thy form for ever,

Unwashed by the ocean brine.

Farewell! No more shall thy eagle pinion

Flap to the the rude north blast ;The tide thou hast rolled on—thy servile minion

Its shroud hath o'er thee cast.

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