ANSWER TO W. ROSCOE, ON PARTING WITH HIS LIBRARY. THOU art not friendless now-thou on whose head Rich in the only wealth it coveted. Live on in hope! seek thy pure treasure there- And if the record of his deeds be fair, Esteems all else but vanity and dust; Content to know, whate'er the fate he share, SONNET. BY W. ROSCOE. GOD of the changeful year!-amidst the glow In sheltered vales, and each sequestered place, Whether thy pines, with giant arms displayed, Brave the cold north, or, wrapt in eastern gloom, Thy trackless forests sweep, a world of shade; Or whether, scenting ocean's heaving breast, Thy odoriferous isles unnumbered rise; Or under various lighter forms imprest, Of fruits and flowers, thy work delights our eyes; God of all life! whate'er those forms may be, O! may they all unite in praising thee. SYMPATHY. "Bear ye one another's burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ." STUPENDOUS LOVE! He who could still the storm, Dwelt among men, and took a servant's form, With weary steps the Syrian sands he trod, Shall we not then a brother's burden bear- Can we be Christians, if the heart unkind, A brother's good or ill indifferent feel; Unapt to bear, but quick the fault to find, Ready to wound, but unprepared to heal? Then let us learn of Him, who what He taught, CONSOLATION. "We sorrow not as those who have no hope." THE loved, but not the lost! Oh, no! they have not ceased to be, Nor live alone in memory; "Tis we who still are tossed O'er life's wild sea, 'tis we who die, They only live whose life is immortality. The loved, but not the lost! Why should our ceaseless tears be shed As if their names were crossed From out the book of life? Ah no! "Tis we who scarcely live that linger still below. The loved, but not the lost! They counted well the cost Of battle-now their crown is won; Our sword is scarce unsheathed, our warfare just begun. |