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Clung even as ivy clings; the deep spring-tide Of nature then swell'd high; and o'er her child Bending, her soul brake forth, in mingled sounds Of weeping and sad song." Alas!" she cried,

"Alas, my boy! thy gentle grasp is on me,
The bright tears quiver in thy pleading eyes,
And now fond thoughts arise,

And silver cords again to earth have won me,
And like a vine thou claspest my full heart-
How shall I hence depart ?-

"How the lone paths retrace, where thou wert playing

So late along the mountains at my side;
And I, in joyous pride,

By every place of flowers my course delaying,
Wove, e'en as pearls, the lilies round thy hair,
Beholding thee so fair!

"And, oh! the home whence thy bright smile hath parted?

Will it not seem as if the sunny day
Turn'd from its door away,

While, through its chambers wandering wearyhearted,

I languish for thy voice, which past me still,
Went like a singing rill?

"Under the palm-trees, thou no more shalt meet me,

When from the fount at evening I return,

With the full water-urn!

Nor will thy sleep's low, dove-like murmurs, greet me,

Went up to Zion; for the boy was vow'd
Unto the Temple service. By the hand
She led him, and her silent soul, the while,
Oft as the dewy laughter of his eye

Met her sweet serious glance, rejoiced to think
That aught so pure, so beautiful, was hers,
To bring before her God.

So pass'd they on,

O'er Judah's hills; and wheresoe'er the leaves
Of the broad sycamore made sounds at noon,
Like lulling rain-drops, or the olive-boughs,
With their cool dimness, cross'd the sultry blue
Of Syria's heaven, she paused, that he might rest;
Yet from her own meek eyelids chased the sleep
That weigh'd their dark fringe down, to sit and
watch

The crimson deepening o'er his cheek's repose,
As at a red flower's heart: and where a fount
Lay, like a twilight star, midst palmy shades,
Making its banks green gems along the wild,
There too she linger'd, from the diamond wave
Drawing clear water for his rosy lips,

And softly parting clusters of jet curls
To bathe his brow.

At last the Fane was reach'd, The earth's One Sanctuary; and rapture hush'd Her bosom, as before her, thro' the day

It rose, a mountain of white marble, steep'd
In light like floating gold. But when that hour
Waned to the farewell moment, when the boy
Lifted, through rainbow-gleaming tears, his eye
Beseechingly to hers, and, half in fear,

Turn'd from the white-robed priest, and round her

arm

Clung even as ivy clings; the deep spring-tide Of nature then swell'd high; and o'er her child Bending, her soul brake forth, in mingled sounds Of weeping and sad song." Alas!" she cried,

"Alas, my boy! thy gentle grasp is on me,
The bright tears quiver in thy pleading eyes,
And now fond thoughts arise,

And silver cords again to earth have won me,
And like a vine thou claspest my full heart-
How shall I hence depart?-

"How the lone paths retrace, where thou wert playing

So late along the mountains at my side;
And I, in joyous pride,

By every place of flowers my course delaying,
Wove, e'en as pearls, the lilies round thy hair,
Beholding thee so fair!

"And, oh! the home whence thy bright smile hath parted?

Will it not seem as if the sunny day
Turn'd from its door away,

While, through its chambers wandering wearyhearted,

I languish for thy voice, which past me still,
Went like a singing rill?

"Under the palm-trees, thou no more shalt meet

me,

When from the fount at evening I return,

With the full water-urn!

Nor will thy sleep's low, dove-like murmurs, greet me,

Is it when roses in our paths grow pale? They have one season—all are ours to die!

Thou art where billows foam,

Thou art where music melts upon the air;
Thou art around us in our peaceful home,
And the world calls us forth-and thou art there;

Thou art where friend meets friend, Beneath the shadow of the elm to rest;

Thou art where foe meets foe, and trumpets rend The skies, and swords beat down the princely crest.

Leaves have their time to fall,

And flowers to wither at the North-wind's breath, And stars to set-but all,

Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O, Death!

REV. W. LISLE BOWLES.

REDEMPTION.

THEN shall the day-spring rise, before whose

beams

The darkness of the world is past; for hark! Seraphs, and angel-choirs with symphonies Acclaiming of ten thousand golden harps Amid the bursting clouds of heav'n reveal'd At once in glory jubilant—they sing,

"GOD THE REDEEMER LIVETH! HE WHO TOOK

"MAN'S NATURE ON HIM, AND IN HUMAN

SHROUD

"VEIL'D HIS IMMORTAL GLORY! HE IS

RISEN

"GOD THE REDEEMER LIVETH! AND BE

HOLD

"THE FATES OF LIFE AND IMMORTALITY "OPENED TO ALL THAT BREATHE!"

O might the strains

But win the world to love: meek Charity Should lift her looks and smile; and with faint voice

The weary pilgrim of the earth exclaim,

As close his eyelids, "DEATH WHERE IS THY STING?

O GRAVE! WHERE IS THY VICTORY?"

"And ye

Whom ocean's melancholy wastes divide,
Who slumber to the sullen surge, AWAKE,
BREAK FORTH INTO THANKSGIVING, for the
bark

That roll'd upon the silent deep shall bear
The tidings of great joy to all that live,
TIDINGS OF LIFE AND LIGHT."

THE DESTRUCTION OF BABYLON.

TYRE BE NO MORE! said the Almighty's voice: But thou too, monarch of the world, whose" arm

* Nebuchadnezzar.

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