ΤΟ

A YOUTHFUL FRIEND.

In life's early vision, when bliss mantles high,
And the morning of pleasure beams cloudless and pure;
When fond expectation illumines the eye,

And hope to the bosom seems brilliant as sure;

How numerous the perils that ambush the way!
What dangers to threaten, what syrens to snare!
And he that in sunshine hath welcomed the day,
At evening is wrapt in the cloud of despair.

For they that in sympathy now would adore thee, While the cup of prosperity, sparkling, is thine; Ungrateful, will ere long, in mockery smile o'er thee, When the sun of thy pleasure in mists shall decline.

And if, unexperienced, thy heart is deceived,
And thou in oblivion thy anguish would'st steep;

If the faithless hath pierced thee, and those once believed,
Unheeding their plightings, have left thee to weep;

O then, thou benighted, and lone, look afar,

TO HIM* that can soften the wounds he has made;
The Guide of thy youth, who alone is the Star,
Directing to day-beams unsullied by shade.

* My Father! Thou art the guide of my youth.

BIBLE.

THE

MISSIONARY'S GRAVE

IN THE DESERT.

In a foreign soil he sleeps,
And lowly is his bed;

No early wild-flower weeps,
Where he pillows his weary head.

By stranger hands he was laid

Where the Siroc sweeps the mound;
Where the night-kings, fierce, invade
The solitude profound.

The grief of a yearning brother,
That hillock ne'er hath known;
The heart-wrung tears of a mother,
Ne'er dropt on that cold stone.

No cenotaph tells his worth;
No sculptured wreaths proclaim,
That the slumbering herald of truth
Hath gained the martyr's name.

But the heart of affection true,
Hath sighed o'er the sandy wave;
But the tears of the wanderer bedew
The MISSIONARY's lonely grave.

TO JUNE.

O COME Smiling JUNE,
In soft beauty arrayed;
O come, and bring with thee,
Young pleasure, fair maid;
O come from thy mountain,
O come from thy bower,
Thou queen of the fountain,
The breeze and the flower.

O come smiling June,

Bid the meadows rejoice; With health thy companion, And labour thy choice; Where lately in triumph

Stern winter was seen,

Pomona shall mantle

Her livery of green.