Some Peer perchance in his princely home
The scion of his house is deploring-

Or the sailor's wife looks out o'er the foam
the wild waves to restore him.

And

prays

The stars resting bright in the distant sky

A lesson of comfort are telling,

That there in the depths of their mansions on high

No storm of the sea has a dwelling.

Though no carv'd cross from sculptor's skilled hand Thy desolate tomb is adorning,

The bright Southern Cross in majesty grand

Shines down till the Judgment Day morning.

SLEEP.

OH Sleep! this shattered frame's most cherished friend, 'Tis much to thee I owe; one third at least

Of this terrestrial life has happy been

Soothed by thy visions; strengthened by thy rest,

I find new vigour for the weary hours:
By day I stumble o'er life's stony road,

Burdened with sickness and with sorrow pressed;
While manacles of Woe restrain my limbs,

And ever clank my

feeble step beside.

By night, in former manliness and hope,

I dart along, erect in pristine strength.

By day, my whole enjoyment of existence
Is but its Memory; that skeleton

So bare and so imperfect, in blest sleep

Assumes the rounded form and glowing face
Of ruddy life; the present there stands clear
Before me; in its light I live and move,

As in the glad and happy days of yore.
By day, in hopeless grief, I sigh for those
By space removed, and those whose spirits dwell
Far in another world, God only knows

How far away in sleep they still are here;
The loved one is still present by my side;
That well-known voice is sounding in mine ear.
Oh Sleep! thou airy painter, once more trace
Thy sweet dissolving views upon my mind,
And let me live as in the days of yore.

By day I bear the burden of a life—

Single, alone, unshared by her without
Whose light all firesides will be chill and dark;

In dreams she still is here, her gentle voice

Adds to each pleasure, lessens from each grief.
By day, the heavy iron hand of pain

Lies ever on my brow; the oppressive chain

Of woe I daily bear, and scarcely find

The strength wherewith to bear it manfully.
By night, in soft and soothing slumbers wrapt,
Some new delight always awaits my step,

Where'er I turn. By day I take my walk
Of short duration and of feeble pace;

By night, with head erect and gun in hand,
I breathe the sweet gale of the Highland moor,
Or now I stand upon some Alpine peak,
Or track the glacier with athletic stride,

Or bent in wild career of headlong race
With nervous finger clench the winning oar.
Oh Death! if thou be like thine image, Sleep,
No terrors wilt thou bring the Christian mind.

TO A VAIN YOUNG MAN.

Go thou not forth, thou weak and vain young man,
Amid the dark, polluting scenes of life;
The diamond only can be thrown upon
The dunghill, and escape its impure stain:
Such tinsell'd, jewell'd paste as thou, will take
A dye that time, perchance, can ne'er erase.
'Tis only gold, when unalloy'd, that bears
The test of damp, and acids' wasting power;

Thy plated goods will shrivel and consume
Before a furnace of temptation strong.

Beware! thou hast not strength, and warning take,

Ere the faint light thou hast depart for aye.