I leave the dreams that charmed my earlier day,
And all the heaven that youthful poets know;
For youth is fled; and thou mayst not remain,
To sort with furrowed brow and silver hairs;
Yet sure to lose thee gives me mickle pain;
Thy hand alone the balm of life prepares,
The only zest for joy, the only cure for cares.

O, yes; perforce the parting tear will flow;—
So old a friend, that loved me yet a child,
Teaching my step the ocean path to know,
And my young voice to sing the tempest mild.
I wooed thee oft in western wood afar,
Where stranger foot had never trod before,
By twilight dim, or light of evening star,
Listening remote to Niagara's roar;

And Nature's self, and thou, didst inspiration pour.

Guide and companion of my wandering way,
What various lands our voyage since hath seen,
From plains where Tiber's glorious waters play,
To distant Morven's misty summits green.
How loath to leave the spot we lingered near,
Athena's walls and grove of Academe!

How, pilgrim like, we saw, with hallowed fear,
Afar the Holy City's turrets gleam,

And prayed on Zion's mount, and drank of Jordan's stream!

Then fare thee well! but not with thee depart
The loftiness of soul that thou hast given;
Once to have known thee shall exalt my heart,
When thou, celestial guest, art fled to heaven.

Then what, though Time may wither Fancy's bloom,

And change her voice to dissonance uncouth?

Thy nobler gifts receive a nobler doom,
And live and flourish in eternal youth-

The firm, unbending mind, the consciousness of truth.

Autumn.-ANONYMOUS.

SWEET Sabbath of the year,
While evening lights decay,

Thy parting steps methinks I hear
Steal from the world away.

Amid thy silent flowers

'Tis sad, but sweet, to dwell,

Where falling leaves and drooping flowers
Around me breathe farewell.

Along thy sunset skies

Their glories melt in shade,
And, like the things we fondly prize,
Seem lovelier as they fade,

A deep and crimson streak
Thy dying leaves disclose;

As, on Consumption's waning cheek,
'Mid ruin, blooms the rose.

Thy scene each vision brings
Of beauty in decay;
Of fair and early faded things,
Too exquisite to stay ;-

Of joys that come no more;

Of flowers whose bloom is fled;
Of farewells wept upon the shore;
Of friends estranged or dead;-

Of all that now may seem,
To Memory's tearful eye,
The vanished beauty of a dream,

O'er which we gaze and sigh.

The Treasure that waxeth not old-D. HUNTINGDON.

O, I HAVE loved, in youth's fair vernal morn,
To spread imagination's wildest wing,
The sober certainties of life to scorn,
And seek the visioned realms that poets sing-
Where Nature blushes in perennial spring,
Where streams of earthly joy exhaustless rise,
Where Youth and Beauty tread the choral ring

And shout their raptures to the cloudless skies,
While every jovial hour on downy pinion flies.

But, ah! those fairy scenes at once have fled,
Since stern Experience waved her iron wand,
Broke the soft slumbers of my visioned head,
And bade me here of perfect bliss despond.
And oft have I the painful lesson conned,
When Disappointment mocked my wooing heart,
Still of its own delusion weakly fond,

And from forbidden pleasures loath to part,
Though shrinking oft beneath Correction's deepest smart.

And is there nought in mortal life, I cried,
Can soothe the sorrows of the laboring breast?
No kind recess, where baffled Hope may hide,
And weary Nature lull her woes to rest?

O grant me, pitying Heaven, this last request,—
Since I must every loftier wish resign,-

Be my few days with peace and friendship blessed;
Nor will I at my humble lot repine,

Though neither wealth, nor fame, nor luxury be mine.

O give me yet, in some recluse abode,
Encircled with a faithful few, to dwell,
Where power cannot oppress, nor care corrode,
Nor venomed tongues the tale of slander tell ;-
Or bear me to some solitary cell,
Beyond the reach of every human eye;
And let me bid a long and last farewell
To each alluring object 'neath the sky,

And there in peace await my hour, in peace to die.

Ah, vain desire!" a still small voice replied;
"No place, no circumstance can Peace impart :—
She scorns the mansion of unvanquished Pride,
Sweet inmate of a pure and humble heart;—
Take then thy station-act thy proper part:-
A Savior's mercy seek,-his will perform :
His word has balm for sin's envenomed smart,
His love, diffused, thy shuddering breast shall warm;
His power provide a shelter from the gathering storm."

O welcome hiding place! O refuge meet
For fainting pilgrims, on this desert way!

O kind Conductor of these wandering feet,
Through snares and darkness, to the realms of day!
Soon did the Sun of Righteousness display
His healing beams; each gloomy cloud dispel :
While on the parting mist, in colors gay,

Truth's cheering bow of precious promise fell,

And Mercy's silver voice soft whispered," All is well "

Fragment of an Epistle written while recovering from severe Illness. RICHARD H. DAna.

No more, my friend,

A wearied ear I'll urge you lend
My tale of sickness. Aches I've borne
From closing day to breaking morn-
Long wintry nights and days of pain-
Sharp pain. 'Tis past; and I would fain
My languor cheer with grateful thought
On Him who to this frame has brought
Soothing and rest; who, when there rose,
Within my bosom's dull repose,

A troubled memory of wrong,

Done in health's day, when passions strong
Swayed me,-repentance spoke and peace,
Hope, and from dark remorse release.

Lonely, in thought, I travelled o'er
Days past and joys to come no more;
Sat watching the low beating fire,
And saw its flames shoot up, expire
Like cheerful thoughts that glance their light
Athwart the mind, and then 'tis night.

For ever night?-The Eternal One,
With sacred fire from forth his throne,
Has touched my heart. O, fail it not
When days of health shall be my lot.

Beside me, Patience, Suffering's child,
With gentle voice, and aspect mild,
Sat chanting to me song so holy,
A song to soothe my melancholy;

Won me to learn of her to bear

Sorrows, and pains, and all that wear

Our hearts-me-chained by sickness-taught,
"Prisoner to none the free of thought:"
A truth sublime, but slowly learned
By one who for earth's freshness yearned.

From open air and ample sky
Pent up, thus doomed for days to lie,
Was trial hard to me, a stranger
To long confinement,-me, a ranger
Through bare or leafy wood, o'er hill,
O'er field, by shore, or by the rill
When taking hues from bending flowers,
Or stealing dark by crystal bowers
Built up by Winter on its bank,
Of branches shot from vapor dank:
And hard to sit, and see boys slide

O'er crusted plain stretched smooth and wide;
Or down the steep and shining drift,
With shout and call, shoot light and swift.

But I could stand at set of sun,
And see the snow he shone upon
Change to a path of glory,-sce

The rainbow hues 'twixt him and me-
Orange, and green, and golden light:
I thought on that celestial sight,
That city seen by aged John,
City with walls of precious stone.
Brighter and brighter grew the road
'Twixt me and the descending God-
Methought I could the path have trod.
Silent and slow the sun has gone,
And left me on the earth alone.

And gone's his path, like the steps of light

By angels trod at dead of night,
While Jacob slept. Around my room
The shadows deepen; while the gloom
Visits my soul, in converse high
Lifted but now, when heaven was nigh.

Why could not I, in spirit, raise
Pillar of Bethel to his praise