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Surely thou bearest a heavy grief,
Yet, mourner, there is still relief.

There's One on high can pardon give
Who gave his life that thou may'st live;

Seek, then, for comfort from above,
Thy friend is God, and' God is love.'

Has cold unkindness wounded thee?
Does thy loved friend now from thee flee?
O turn thy thoughts from earth to heaven,
Where no such cruel wounds are given.

In all the varying scenes of woe,
The lot of fallen man below,
Still lift thy tearful eye above,
And hope in God, for ' God is love.'

Sweet is the thought—time flies apace,—
This earth is not our resting place:
And sweet the promise of the Lord,
To all who love his name and word.

Then, weeping pilgrim, dry thy tears;
Comfort on every side appears;

An eye beholds thee from above,
The eye of God, and ' God is love.'

Anon.

STANZAS.

Written by the sea shore.

How calm is the stillness of night,—
Are the zephyrs away to their caves?
For the moon-beams with silvery light,
Seem asleep in the whispering waves;
Lo! the moss-covered rocks all around,
In the beauties of even arrayed,
With their loftiest summits are crowned,
By a varied,—though solemn shade;
Not a murmur is heard from the sea,
Have its billows been charmed to rest?
'Yes! the spirit of God to thee
Now appears on its moveless breast.'

Let me wander then on by the beach,
While my heart to emotion is given,

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There are thoughts which ye cannot reach,
—Passing shadows 'twixt me and heaven ;i—
There are feelings none eke can know,
That trouble my secret breast,
As the waters at midnight flow,
And know not a moment's rest.
Lo I dreams of the wildest romance.
Glide over my pensive soul;

'So meteor fires deceiving glance,

Oh trust not their airy control J'

By the forest-girt mountains afar,

And the isles in blue distance seen;

By the light of each angel star

Smiling down from its throne serene;—

By the beauty which breathes around me,

A power that I cannot quell,

With a syren charm hath bound me,

Yet I curse not her magic spell;

On this rocky and wave-beaten coast,

May her form not be hovering nigh?
'To thy sight 'tis for ever lost,
So forget her,although with a sigh!'

Then away let me turn in despair, ,
Hope's light from its beacon is gone;

My bosom to darkness laid bare,
Shall suffer—but not be undone!
As stillness steals over the ocean,
When the fiend of the storm is laid ;—
As the winds from their savage commotion
Die away in the moonlight glade ;—
As the calmness that hallows this night
Descends like a dream upon me;—
'So will visions of other light,
Set thy sojtlfrom its troubles free!'

Alastor.

THE VOICE OF MIDNIGHT.

i.
When night sits on the earth, and tower and town
Are sleeping in the sea of silvery light,
That poureth from the moon who gazeth down,
Bathing earth's emerald wheels in glory bright;

Ii.
When e'en the night wind and the restless sea
Wander in silence, by the hour spell-bound;
When e'en the rustling of the shadowy tree
Is hushed—the welkin bringeth forth a sound ;—

III.

It is not in the sea, nor in the air;
It is not on the valley, nor the hill;
There comes no warning from the sepulchre,
And yet—the wing of silence is not still!

IV.

Is it the music of some distant sphere
Upon the lonely moonshine clearly borne?
For faintly comes the wild sound on my ear,
As when together sung the stare of morn.

v. '. }

I look around—still is each gloomy tree—
The waves at rest—the wind's dread flag is furled j
As if,—so still the aery minstrelsy,
It were the day-sounds of another world.

VI.

So once the holy bird sang all night-long,
Till broke the day-star's beam on Bethlehem;
His red uprising stayed the fearful song,
Blazing on dewy morning's diadem.

VII. ]

Is it the rushing sound of years to come,
Thrown from the bosom of the endless sea,

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