They speak of love, yet little feel its sway,

While in their bosoms many an idol lurks; Their base desires, well satisfied, obey,

Leave the Creator's hand, and lean upon his works.

'Tis therefore I can dwell with man no more;

Your fellowship, ye warblers! suits me best: Pure love has lost its price, though prized of yore, Profaned by modern tongues, and slighted as a jest.

My God, who form'd you for his praise alone,
Beholds his purpose well fulfill'd in you;
Come, let us join the choir before his throne,
Partaking in his praise with spirits just and true!
Yes, I will always love; and, as I ought,

Tune to the praise of Love my ceaseless voice;
Preferring Love too vast for human thought,

In spite of erring men, who cavil at my choice.

Why have I not a thousand thousand hearts,

Lord of my soul! that they might all be thine? If thou approve, the zeal thy smile imparts,

How should it ever fail! can such a fire decline?

Love pure and holy, is a deathless fire;

Its object heavenly, it must ever blaze: Eternal love a God must needs inspire,

When once he wins the heart, and fits it for his praise. Self-love dismiss'd,-'tis then we live indeed,— In her embrace, death, only death is found: Come, then, one noble effort, and succeed,

Cast off the chain of self with which thy soul is bound!

Oh! I could cry, that all the world might hear,
Ye self-tormentors, love your God alone;
Let his unequall'd excellence be dear,

Dear to your inmost souls, and make him all your own!

They hear me not.-Alas! how fond to rove
In endless chase of folly's specious lure!
'Tis here alone, beneath this shady grove,

I taste the sweets of truth,-here only am secure.

THE SWALLOW.

I AM fond of the swallow ;-I learn from her flight,
Had I skill to improve it, a lesson of love:
How seldom on earth do we see her alight!

She dwells in the skies, she is ever above.

It is on the wing that she takes her repose,

Suspended and poised in the regions of air; 'Tis not in our fields that her sustenance grows, It is wing'd like herself, 'tis ethereal fare.

She comes in the spring, all the summer she stays, And, dreading the cold, still follows the sun;— So, true to our Love, we should covet his rays,

And the place where he shines not, immediately shun.

Our light should be Love, and our nourishment prayer ;
It is dangerous food that we find upon
earth:
The fruit of this world is beset with a snare,

In itself it is hurtful, as vile in its birth.

'Tis rarely, if ever, she settles below,

And only when building a nest for her young; Were it not for her brood, she would never bestow A thought upon any thing filthy as dung.

Let us leave it ourselves ('tis a mortal abode,)
To bask every moment in infinite Love;
Let us fly the dark winter, and follow the road
That leads to the dayspring appearing above.

THE

TRIUMPH OF HEAVENLY LOVE DESIRED.

AH! reign, wherever man is found,
My Spouse, beloved and divine!
Then I am rich, and I abound,

When every human heart is thine.

A thousand sorrows pierce my soul,

To think that all are not thine own:
Ah! be adored from pole to pole;

Where is thy zeal? arise; be known!

All hearts are cold, in every place,

Yet earthly good with warmth pursue ;
Dissolve them with a flash of grace,

Thaw these of ice, and give us new!

A FIGURATIVE DESCRIPTION

OF THE

PROCEDURE OF DIVINE LOVE,

IN BRINGING A SOUL TO THE POINT OF SELF-RENUNCIATION AND ABSOLUTE ACQUIESCENCE.

'Twas my purpose on a day,
To embark and sail away;
As I climb'd the vessel's side,

Love was sporting in the tide;

"Come," he said, "ascend! make haste,
Launch into the boundless waste."

Many mariners were there,
Having each his separate care;
They that row'd us held their eyes
Fix'd upon the starry skies;
Others steer'd, or turn'd the sails
To receive the shifting gales.

Love, with power divine supplied,
Suddenly my courage tried;
In a moment it was night,
Ship and skies were out of sight;
On the briny wave I lay,
Floating rushes all my stay.

Did I with resentment burn
At this unexpected turn?
Did I wish myself on shore,
Never to forsake it more?
No:-" My soul," I cried, " be still!
If I must be lost, I will."

Next he hasten'd to convey
Both my frail supports away;
Seized my rushes; bade the waves
Yawn into a thousand graves:
Down I went, and sunk as lead,
Ocean closing o'er my head.

Still, however, life was safe;
And I saw him turn and laugh:
"Friend," he cried, " adieu! lie low,
While the wintry storms shall blow;
When the spring has calm'd the main,
You shall rise and float again."

Soon I saw him, with dismay,
Spread his plumes and soar away;
Now I mark his rapid flight,
Now he leaves my aching sight;
He is gone whom I adore,
'Tis in vain to seek him more.

How I trembled then and fear'd, When my love had disappear'd! "Wilt thou leave me thus," I cried, "Whelm'd beneath the rolling tide ?" Vain attempt to reach his ear! Love was gone, and would not hear.

Ah! return, and love me still;
See me subject to thy will!
Frown with wrath, or smile with grace,
Only let me see thy face!

Evil I have none to fear,

All is good, if Thou art near.