THE INFANT SAMUEL. BY EPHRAIM PEABODY. "Then Samuel answered, speak Lord; for thy servant heareth." IN childhood's spring,-ah! blessed spring! 'Speak Lord, thy servant hears.' When youth shall come,—ah! blessed youth! If still the pure heart glows, And in the world and word of God, Its Maker's language knows ;— If in the night and in the day, When age shall come,-ah! blessed age! If in its lengthening shade, When life grows faint and earthly lights Ah, blessed age! if then heaven's light And Faith unto the call of God Can answer,' Here am I.' THE LAST SUN OF AUTUMN. INSCRIBED IN AN ALBUM, NOV. 30, 1839. BY THE EDITOR. 'Tis the last sun of Autumn that smiles on us now, And the soft South is breathing o'er sere field and bough : The leaves are all wither'd, the bright birds are gone, And the song of the wood is the Wind-Spirit's moan. 'Tis the time for the rushing of storms in the sky, For the Winter-wind's howling, the Autumn's last sigh; And still it beams softly, this Summer-like sun, So when from that cluster each dark lock shall fail, APOSTROPHE TO THE OCEAN. BY CHARLES H. BROWN. HAIL, dark old ocean! wild and loud Tossed by the tempest's raging might Hail! thou, whose ceaseless rage began And through the heavens' re-echoing vaults Thou art the same mysterious sea, As when, long ages past, Its golden radiance cast. The eternal hills, the rocks and caves Proclaim thy deeds of old, When o'er this sin-devoted world Thy mighty deluge rolled. APOSTROPHE TO THE OCEAN. 109 Beneath thy dark and vengeful flood, Sunk, to return no more. And there the beautiful and brave Rest in thine awful deep, While o'er their bleached and scattered bones, Thy sullen surges sweep. Roll on, old ocean, dark and deep! Those giant waves shall never sleep, Till earth with fervent heat shall melt, And lamps of heaven grow dim. |