Let him but hear Loch Erroch's Side,'
He'll kindle at the strain.

"That tune e'er held his soul in thrall;

It never breathed in vain ;

He'll waken as its echoes fall,

Or never wake again."

The strings were swept. 'T was sad to hear
Sweet music floating there;

For every note called forth a tear

Of anguish and despair.

"See! see!" she cried, "the tune is o'er.
No opening eye, no breath;

Hang up his harp; he'll wake no more;
He sleeps the sleep of death."

Ex. 84.

MR. LINCOLN'S FAVORITE.

H! why should the spirit of mortal be proud?

0円 Like a swift-fleeting meteor, a fast-flying cloud,

A flash of the lightning, a break of the wave,
Man passes from life to his rest in the grave.

The leaves of the oak and the willow shall fade,
Be scattered around and together be laid;

And the young and the old, and the low and the high,
Shall moulder to dust and together shall lie.

Yea, hope and despondency, pleasure and pain,
We mingle together in sunshine and rain;
And the smiles and the tears, the song and the dirge,
Still follow each other, like surge upon surge.

THO

HOU art, O God, the life an Of all this wondrous worl Its glow by day, its smile by nig

Are but reflections caught fron Where'er we turn thy glories shi And all things fair and bright ar

When day, with farewell beam, ₫ Among the opening clouds of And we can almost think we gaz

Through golden vistas into hea Those hues that make the sun's d So soft, so radiant, Lord! are thi

When night, with wings of starr O'ershadows all the earth and Like some dark, beauteous bird,

Is sparkling with unnumbered That sacred gloom, those fires di So grand, so countless, Lord! are

When youthful Spring around us Thy Spirit warms her fragrant And every flower the summer wr

Is born beneath that kindling Where'er we turn thy glories shi And all things fair and bright are

Ex. 86. - FAREWELL, LIFE. Hood.

AREWELL, life! my senses swim,
And the world is growing dim;
Thronging shadows cloud the light,
Like the advent of the night, -
Colder, colder, colder still,
Upward steals a vapor chill;
Strong the earthly odor grows, —
I smell the mould upon the rose !

Welcome, life! the spirit strives!
Strength returns and hope revives;
Cloudy fears and shapes forlorn
Fly like shadows at the morn,
O'er the earth there comes a bloom;
Sunny light for sudden gloom,
Warm perfume for vapor cold, -

I smell the rose above the mould!

Ex. 87. - THE BLIND BOY. Cibber.

OH

H! say what is that thing called Light,
Which I must ne'er enjoy?

What are the blessings of the sight,
O, tell your poor blind boy!

You talk of wondrous things you see,
You say the sun shines bright;
I feel him warm, but how can he
Or make it day or night?

My day or night myself I make
Whene'er I sleep or play;

SELECTIONS IN POETRY.

And could I ever keep awake
With me 't were always day.

With heavy sighs I often hear
You mourn my hapless woe;
But sure with patience I can bear
A loss I ne'er can know.

Then let not what I cannot have
My cheer of mind destroy;
Whilst thus I sing, I am a king,
Although a poor blind boy.

89

Ex. 88. - A SUMMER EVENING. Dr. Watts.

OW fine has the day been! how bright was the

How

sun!

How lovely and joyful the course that he run,
Though he rose in a mist when his race he begun,
And there followed some droppings of rain!
But now the fair traveller's come to the west,
His rays are all gold, and his beauties are best;
He paints the sky gay as he sinks to his rest,
And foretells a bright rising again.

Just such is the Christian; his course he begins,
Like the sun in a mist, when he mourns for his sins,
And melts into tears; then he breaks out and shines,
And travels his heavenly way:

But when he comes nearer to finish his race,
Like a fine setting sun, he looks richer in grace,
And gives a sure hope, at the end of his days,.
Of rising in brighter array.

Ex. 89. - WHAT THE WINDS BRING.

WHI

Stedman.

HICH is the wind that brings the cold? The north-wind, Freddy, and all the snow; And the sheep will scamper into the fold

When the north begins to blow.

Which is the wind that brings the heat?
The south-wind, Katy; and corn will grow,
And peaches redden for you to eat,
When the south begins to blow.

Which is the wind that brings the rain?
The east-wind, Arty, and farmers know
That cows come shivering up the lane
When the east begins to blow.

Which is the wind that brings the flowers?
The west-wind, Bessy; and soft and low
The birdies sing in the summer hours
When the west begins to blow.

Ex. 90. - GOD'S LOVE TO US.

HERE 'S not a flower that decks the vale,

There's not a beam that lights the mountain,

There's not a shrub that scents the gale,

There's not a wind that stirs the fountain,

There's not a hue that paints the rose,
There's not a leaf around us lying,

But in its use some beauty shows,
God's love to us and love undying!