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For, dark and despairing, my sight I may seal,
But'man cannot cover what God would reveal';
'Tis the sunset of life gives me mystical lore,
And coming events cast their shadows before.
I tell thee, Culloden's dread echoes shall ring
With the blood-hounds that bark for thy fugitive king
Lo! anointed by Heaven with the vials of wrath,
Behold, where he flies on his desolate path !
Now in darkness and billows, he sweeps from my sight:
Rise, rise ! ye wild tempests, and cover his flight!
'Tis finished. Their thunders are hushed on the moors:
Culloden is lost, and my country deplores.
But where is the iron-bound prisoner? Where?
For the red eye of battle is shut in despair.
Say, mounts he the ocean-wave, banished, forlorn,
Like a limb from his country cast bleeding and torn
Ah no! for a darker departure is near;
The war-drum is muffled, and black is the bier;
His death-bell is tolling : oh! mercy, dispel
Yon sight, that it freezes my spirit to tell!
Life flutters convulsed in his quivering limbs,
And his blood-streaming nostril in agony swims.
Accursed be the fagots, that blaze at his feet,
Where his heart shall be thrown, ere it ceases to beat,
With the smoke of its ashes to poison the gale-
Lochiel. Down, soothless insulter! I trust not

the tale :
For never shall Albin a destiny meet,
So black with dishonour, so foul with retreat.
Though my perishing ranksshould be strewed in their gore,
Like ocean-weeds heaped on the surf-beaten shoré,
Lochiel, untainted by flight or by chains,
While the kindling of life in his bosom remains,
Shall victor exult, or in death be laid low,
With his back to the field, and his feet to the foe!
And leaving in battle no blot on his name,
Ļook proudly to Heaven from the death-bed of fame.

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FRIENDSHIP.

Nor unremembered is the hour when friends Met. Friends, but few on earth, and therefore dear ; Sought oft, and sought almost as oft in vain ; Yet always sought; so native to the heart, So much desired, and coveted by all. Nor wonder thou,—thou wonderest not nor need'st. Much beautiful, and excellent, and fair Was seen beneath the sun ; but nought was seen More beautiful, or excellent, or fair Than face of faithful friend, fairest when seen In darkest day; and many sounds were sweet, Most ravishing, and pleasant to the ear ; But sweeter none than voice of faithful friend ; Sweet always, sweetest, heard in loudest storm. Some I remember, and will ne'er forget ; My early friends, friends of my evil day; Friends in my mirth, friends in my misery too ; Friends given by God in mercy and in love ; My counsellors, my comforters, and guides; My joy in grief, my second bliss in joy; Companions of my young desires; in doubt, My oracles, my wings in high pursuit. 0, I remember, and will ne'er forget, Our meeting spots, our chosen sacred hours, Our burning words, 'that uttered all the soul, Our faces beaming with unearthly love ; Sorrow with sorrow sighing, hope with hope Exulting, heart embracing heart entire ! As birds of social feather helping each His fellow's flight, we soared into the skies, And cast the clouds beneath our feet, and Earth, With all her tardy leaden-footed cares, And talked the speech and ate the food of Heaven ! These I remember, these selectest men,

And would their names record ; but what avails
My mention of their name? Before the Throne
They stand illustrious 'mong the loudest harps,
And will receive thee glad, my friend and theirs.
For all are friends in Heaven, all faithful friends!
And many friendships, in the days of Time
Begun, are lasting here, and growing still ;
So grows ours evermore, both theirs and mine.

mann
THE DISSOLUTION OF FRIENDSHIP.
ALAS! they had been friends in youth ;
But whispering tongues can poison truth;
And constancy lives in realms above ;

And life is thorny; and youth is vain :
And to be wroth with one we love,

Doth work like madness in the brain.
And thus it chanced, as I divine,
With Roland and Sir Leoline.
Each spake words of high disdain

And insult to his heart's best brother :
They parted-ne'er to meet again!

But never either found another
To free the hollow heart from paining ;
They stood aloof, the scars remaining,
Like cliffs which had been rent asunder ;

A dreary sea now flows between,
But neither heat, nor frost, nor thunder,
Shall wholly do away,

I

ween,
The marks of that which once hath been,

THE DEATH OF THE YOUNG MOTHER,

It was an April day; and blithely all The youth of nature leaped beneath the sun, And promised glorious manhood; and our hearts

Were glad, and round them danced the lightsome blood, In healthy merriment, when tidings came, A child was born : and tidings came again, That she who gave it birth was sick to death. So swift trode sorrow on the heels of joy! We gathered round her bed, and bent our knees In fervent supplication to the Throne Of Mercy, and perfumed our prayers with sighs Sincere, and penitential tears, and looks Of self-abasement; but we sought to stay An angel on the earth, a spirit ripe For Heaven ; and Mercy, in her love, refused : Most merciful, as oft, when seeming least ! Most gracious when she seemed the most to frown! The room I well remember, and the bed On which she lay, and all the faces too, That crowded dark and mournfully around. Her father there and mother, bending, stood ; And down their aged cheeks fell many drops Of bitterness. Her husband, too, was there, And brothers, and they wept ; her sisters, too, Did weep and sorrow, comfortless; and I, Too, wept, though not to weeping given ; and all Within the house was dolorous and sad. This I remember well; but better still, I do remember, and will ne'er forget, The dying eye ! That eye alone was bright, And brighter grew, as nearer death approached : As I have seen the gentle little flower Look fairest in the silver beam which fell, Reflected from the thunder-cloud that soon Came down, and o'er the desert scattered far And wide its loveliness. She made a sign To bring her babe—'twas brought, and by her placed. She looked upon its face, that neither smiled Nor wept, nor knew who gazed upon't; and laid Her hand upon its little breast, and sought

For it, with look that seemed to penetrate
The heavens, unutterable blessings, such
As God to dying parents only granted,
For infants left behind them in the world.
“God keep my child !” we heard her say, and heard
No more. The Angel of the Covenant
Was come, and faithful to his promise, stood,
Prepared to walk with her through death's dark vale.
And now her eyes grew bright, and brighter still,
Too bright for ours to look upon, suffused
With many tears, and closed without a cloud.
They set as sets the morning star, which goes.
Not down behind the darkened west, nor hides
Obscured among the tem pests of the sky,
But melts away into the light of heaven.

ADDRESS TO THE OCEAN.
THERE is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society, where none intrudes,
By the deep Sea, and music in its roar:
I love not Man the less, but nature more,
From these our interviews, in which I steal
From all I may be, or have been before,

To mingle with the Universe, and feel
What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal.

Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean-roll!
Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain;
Man marks the earth with ruin-his control
Stops with the shore;—upon the watery plain
The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain
A shadow of man's ravage, save his own,
When, for a moment, like a drop of rain,

He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan, Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffined, and unknown.

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