Oft thou hast watch'd the clear new moon, when first

she meets the eye,

How dark and gloomy is her face upon the sunset

sky;

But as she reappears each eve, the coming lights

prevail,

And slowly overspread her face as the dark shadows

fail;

Till when she fills her circling orb, the gloom is roll'd

away,

The count'nance, so sad and dark, beams with per

petual day.

So with Affliction, oh, how dark her presence first

appears,

How bright when gazed at by the light of wiser after

years.

While Health, and Happiness, and Hope, crown'd high

Life's festive bowl,

How ill thy greater part then fared-thy great undying

soul!

As the heavy cloud of dark black mist that wings its

upward flight

Is changed by the sun's bright touch to wreaths of fairy light,

So with the shade of chastening woe, that weighs the spirit down,

Th' Almighty waves his wondrous wand- the cross becomes a crown.

Grasp, then, the telescope of Faith within thy feeble

hand;

Shut out Earth's scene, and gaze aloft, where Heaven's high mountains stand.

For Faith makes bright the earth-dimm'd eye, enabling

thee to gain

A glimpse whose light shall give thee strength to face Earth's bitterest pain.

THE NEW JERUSALEM.

I SAW a vision in the dreams of night

The New Jerusalem enthroned in light
From God's right hand descend, in second birth,
The Bride of Heav'n, the glory of the Earth!
No sun she needs, nor moon to shine by night;
Her sun the Saviour, and the Lamb her light.
No temple there its gorgeous form displays;
The cry of prayer is lost in songs of praise.
No sob of grief, no wail of dark despair,
Breaks the blest harmony that reigneth there;
No sin-born forms of sickening pain or woe
Their gloomy shadows on her radiance throw :

Hush'd is the sorrow-throb, the anguish-sigh-
Her God has wiped the tears from every eye!
Those realms of Love ne'er hear the sound of strife,
And Death yields up the palm to everlasting Life!

THE END.

LONDON

PRINTED BY SPOTTISWOODE AND CO.

NEW-STREET SQUARE.

THE

CITY OF THE DEAD

And other Poems

BY JOHN COLLETT.

Selections from Opinions of the Press.

"Mr. Collett, in his treatment of this grand subject, has given indubitable evidence of rare poetical power. Many of the lesser poems are gems of fancy. The contrast between the spirit of the lines on The Sunrise from the Top of Snowdon' and those on The Condemned Cell,' indicate remarkable range of thought, and a singular versatility of feeling. The language is musical and expressive in a very high degree. We are much mistaken if Mr. C. is not heard of hereafter; and he must be, if he only persists." Illustrated News of the World.

"We have read these poems with much sincere pleasure, and entertain little doubt of their obtaining that place in public esteem to which the author's evident ability so thoroughly entitles them. The imagery and diction are very superior, combining great depth of feeling with considerable facility of expression and refinement of thought. It is but just to say that Mr. Collett only requires to cultivate a taste and ability already good, in order to take a high rank amongst contributors of poetical literature.”

St. James's Chronicle.

"This is the most promising volume of short poems that we have seen for some time. Many of them manifest the true poetic insight; the language is always musical, and shows considerable power of composition." Standard.