When the canvas of his vessel

Flutters to the favoring gale, Years of solitary exile

Hid behind the sunny sail:
When his pulses beat with ardor,
And his sinews stretch for toil,
And a hundred bold emprises
Lure him to that eastern soil,-

It is well we cannot see
What the end shall be.

When the youth beside the maiden
Looks into her credulous eyes,
And the heart upon the surface
Shines too happy to be wise;
He by speeches less than gestures
Hinteth what her hopes expound,
Laying out the waste hereafter

Like enchanted garden-ground;

He may falter-so do many;
She may suffer-so must all:
Both may yet, world-disappointed,
This lost hour of love recall,-

It is well we cannot see
What the end shall be.

When the altar of religion

Greets the expectant bridal pair, And the vow that lasts till dying Vibrates on the sacred air; When man's lavish protestations Doubts of after-change defy, Comforting the frailer spirit

Bound his servitor for aye;

When beneath love's silver moonbeams
Many rocks in shadow sleep,

AFFLICTION ONE DAY.

Undiscovered, till possession
Shows the danger of the deep,-

It is well we cannot see
What the end shall be.

Whatsoever is beginning,

That is wrought by human skill;
Every daring emanation

Of the mind's ambitious will:
Every first impulse of passion,
Gush of love or twinge of hate;
Every launch upon the waters
Wide-horizoned by our fate;
Every venture in the chances

Of life's sad, oft desperate game,
Whatsoever be our motive,
Whatsoever be our aim,—

It is well we cannot see

What the end shall be.

ANONYMOUS.

A

Affliction one Day

FFLICTION one day, as she harked to the roar

Of the stormy and struggling billow,

Drew a beautiful form on the sands of the shore
With the stem of a weeping willow.

Jupiter, struck with the noble plan,

As he roamed on the marge of the ocean, Breathed on the figure, and, calling it man, Endowed it with life and with motion.

A creature so wondrous in mind and in frame,
So endowed with each parent's expression,
Among them a point of contention became,
Each claiming the right of possession.

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He is mine, said Affliction, I gave him his birth,

I alone am his cause of creation:

The material was furnished by me, answered Earth, I gave him, said Jove, animation.

So the Gods, all assembled in solemn divan,
To list to each claimant's petition,
Pronounced their definitive sentence on man,
And thus settled his fate's disposition:

Let Affliction possess her own child till the woes
Of life cease to harass and goad it,

Then his body return to the earth whence it rose,
And his spirit to Jove who bestowed it.

HORACE SMITH.

Lines on a Skeleton.

BEHOLD this ruin! 't is a skull,

Once of ethereal spirit full!

This narrow cell was life's retreat,
This space was thought's mysterious seat.
What beauteous pictures filled this spot-
What dreams of pleasure, long forgot!
Nor grief, nor joy, nor hope, nor fear,
Has left one trace or record here!

Beneath this mouldering canopy
Once shone the bright and busy eye:
Yet start not at that dismal void;
If social love that eye employed,

If with no lawless fire it gleamed,

But through the dew of kindness beamed,
That eye shall be forever bright

When stars and suns have lost their light.

YOUTH, THAT PURSUEST.

Here, in this silent cavern, hung
The ready, swift, and tuneful tongue:
If falsehood's honey it disdained,

And, where it could not praise, was chained:

If bold in virtue's cause it spoke,

Yet gentle concord never broke,

That tuneful tongue shall plead for thee
When death unveils eternity!

Say, did these fingers delve the mine,
Or with its envied rubies shine?
To hew the rock or wear the gem,
Can nothing now avail to them:
But if the page of truth they sought,
And comfort to the mourners brought,
These hands a richer meed shall clain
Than all that waits on wealth or fame!

Avails it whether bare or shod

Those feet the paths of duty trod?
If from the bowers of joy they sped
To soothe affliction's humble bed;
If grandeur's guilty bribe they spurned,
And home to virtue's lap returned,
Those feet with angels' wings shall vie,
And tread the palace of the sky!

ANONYMOUS.

Youth, that Pursuest.

YOUTH, that pursuest, with such eager pace,

Thy even way,

Thou pantest on to win a mournful race;

Then stay! oh stay!

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Pause and luxuriate on thy sunny plain;

Loiter-enjoy;

Once past, thou never wilt come back again,
A second boy.

The hills of manhood wear a noble face

When seen from far;

The mist of light from which they take their grace, Hides what they are.

The dark and weary path those cliffs between

Thou canst not know;

And how it leads to regions never green,

Dead fields of snow.

Pause while thou may'st, nor deem that fate thy gain, Which, all too fast,

Will drive thee forth from this delicious plain,

A man at last.

RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES.

M

Maidenhood.

AIDEN! with the meek, brown eyes,

In whose orbs a shadow lies,

Like the dusk in evening skies!

Thou whose locks outshine the sun,
Golden tresses wreathed in one,
As the braided streamlets run!

Standing, with reluctant feet,
Where the brook and river meet,
Womanhood and childhood fleet!

Gazing, with a timid glance,
On the brooklet's swift advance,
On the river's broad expanse !