The stately stag, that seems so stout, Is caught at length in fowler's net; Doth fade at length, and fall away: There is no thing but time doth wasteThe heavens, the earth consume at last. But virtue sits triumphing still Upon the throne of glorious fame; Though spiteful death man's body kill, Yet hurts he not his virtuous name. By life or death, whatso betides, The state of virtue never slides. VIRTUE. ANONYMOUS. SWEET day, so cool, so calm, so bright, DEATH'S FINAL CONQUEST. THE glories of our birth and state Are shadows, not substartial things; There is no armor against fateDeath lays his icy hands on kings; Sceptre and crown Must tumble down, And in the dust be equal made Some men with swords may reap the field, And plant fresh laurels where they kill; But their strong nerves at last must yield— They tame but one another still; Early or late They stoop to fate, And must give up their murmuring breath, When they, pale captives, creep to death. The garlands wither on your brow Then boast no more your mighty deeds Upon death's purple altar, now, See where the victor victim bleeds! To the cold tomb Only the actions of the just JAMES SHIRLEY THE HERMIT. Ar the close of the day, when the hamlet is still, And mortals the sweets of forgetfulness prove, Nor yet for the ravage of winter I mourn Oh when shall day dawn on the night of the When nought but the torrent is heard on the “"'T was thus, by the glare of false science be hill, trayed, And nought but the nightingale's song in the That leads to bewilder, and dazzles to blind, My thoughts wont to roam from shade onward to shade, grove, 'T was thus, by the cave of the mountain afar, No more with himself or with nature at war, Lo, humbled in dust, I relinquish my pride; "Ah! why, all abandoned to darkness and From doubt and from darkness thou only scending, Oh soothe him, whose pleasures like thine See truth, love, and mercy in triumph de pass away! Full quickly they pass-but they never re- And nature all glowing in Eden's first bloom! turn. On the cold cheek of death smiles and roses are blending, "Now, gliding remote on the verge of the sky, And beauty immortal awakes from the tomb. The moon, half extinguished, her crescent dis plays; JAMES BEATTIE THE wish that of the living whole No life may fail beyond the graveDerives it not from what we have The likest God within the soul? Are God and nature then at strife, That I, considering every where Her secret meaning in her deeds, And finding that of fifty seeds She often brings but one to bear For me, my heart that erst did go That sees through tears the juggler's leap, Who "giveth His beloved sleep." And friends!-dear freinds!-when it shall be ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING. AN OLD POET TO SLEEP. No god to mortals oftener descends Which law throws round them loose, and they meanwhile Wink at a judge, and he the wink returns. Nor seeking shelter there from sun or storm. Me also hast thou led among such scenes, Gentlest of gods! and age appeared far off While thou wast standing close above the couch, And whispered'st, in whisper not unheard, Thou hearest me, nor tremblest, as most do; in sooth, why shouldst thou? What man hast thou wronged By deed or word? Few dare ask this within." There was a pause; then suddenly said Sleep, "He whom I named approacheth, so farewell." WALTER SAVAGE LANDOL SLEEP. WEEP ye no more, sad fountains! Sleep is a reconciling- JOHN DOWLAND LIFE AND DEATH. LIFE and Death are sisters fair; If fair Life her sister lost, On a boundless ocean tost, ANONYMOUS |