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She had died at yester-midnight, dying as the bell peal'd

“one”!

Heavy-hearted I return'd — I could not bear her corse to

see

Whom I just had seen apparell'd like one of the far

countree.

Yes, I felt my heart was broken! though for years it did

not die, But it must be with its treasure up in yon eternal sky, God, my Father, He was there

my

blessed Saviour, 'twas His home, Adeline, and she who bore me, harbor'd there, no more to

roam.

And my earthly path was clouded, all its lingering gleams

had fled, Save the memories of communion with the living and the

dead.

Oh, they sicken'd not, nor faded into fond imaginings,
For true joys, if only true, immortal are 'mid mortal

things : Whilome they were golden lamps that o'er our pilgrim

pathway shone, Whose dear light we fondly bless'd, and wended unrepining And when number'd with the past they sank not in the

on :

misty sea With the foul and base-born glimmer of the world's false

hearted glee, But majestically rose, an apotheosis of light, Till they clomb the dark-blue heavens, stars for ever ’mid

the night; And thence shining on our pathway from their glorious

home afar, Tell us of the things that have been, that they shall be, and

they are.

Brother, I have told thee all my gloomy tale of fear and

sin;

Ah, forgive me, for I could not die and keep it pent

within

Since she went, this heart's beloved, thirteen dreary years

have pass'd, Something tells me in my bosom, this - joy, joy!-- shall

last. Brother, I have lived and roam'd in tracking those I once

be
my

beguiled, To essay

with me sin's fearful dark interminable wild ;

Days and nights of supplication I have agonized for them, Till to all, ’mid storm and shipwreck, beam'd the Star of

Bethlehem.

Nothing now remains for lifetime take my last, my, fond

farewell; If a heart like mine can bless, Heaven bless thee more

than heart can tell!

Grant that all my dark experience may be imaged back in

light, When reflected from the sunny waters of thy spirit bright; Till thy race on earth is finish’d, and ye hasten to complete Those our mother's vision saw, a blessed band at Jesus'

feet.

And when I am dead, dear brother, lay me by the sacred

yew

That o'ershades this heart's beloved. Fare thee well

adieu — adieu.

Trinity College, 1845.

THE THINGS THAT ARE.

Ο έστιν ον όντως.

The closing of a stormy night:— the wrecks
Of many tempests stranded on the shore
Of Time's mysterious sea :- - and yet no break,
No far blue vista in the storm-tost drifts
Of clouds, that gather blackness ever and aye
Close round the wild horizon, If a star

With trembling light, and that the light of tears,
Gleams for a moment through the vault of gloom,
The swift clouds, envying Hope's sweet messenger,
Quick shifting dim its radiance, and the void
Of darkness reigns supreme. Perchance, anon,
A meteor with its dazzling train shoots by,
And hurries into nothingness — a dream
Of dying human glory — a bright torch
To light ambition to its starless tomb.

Once more the

eye
looks

up, as if in fear
Of that which shall be, for the lightnings now
Are all abroad upon the winds of night,
Writing in vivid characters of flame,
Truths words might never utter, truths intense,
Of man's strange destiny and future worlds
Prophetic: brief their tale, as it is bright;
And after them, dim thunder sounds far off,
Like waters, or the wail of nations, come
From the lone caverns of chill shadowy mountains,
In fitful bursts upon the startled ear.
All speak of woes and tempests past and coming....

Is such the sky that stretches o’er the world?
Fool, fool, it cannot be — just close thine eye
And
open

it
anew,

and o'er its sweep
Will rise, in faëry pageantries of joy,
Life-pictures diverse far: young pleasure's train,
Dances, and revelries, and reckless smiles,
All cluster'd there beneath a cloudless sky:-
None know it is but painted o’er their heads,
And that the true dread heavens roll rife with storms.

Tush, tush, bend down thine ear and list again :

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