THE RECLUSE.

Thy soul was filled with melody-thy voice

In praise of Zion, made her themes its choice;
Thus earth could cheer her denizen, and wreathe
Garlands of sweets, where airs terrestrial breathe.
For thee the streamlet wandered, and the bird
Was in the stillness of the branches, heard;
For thee light gales played pastime,—in thine ears
How softly swelled the music of the spheres!
Ambrosial airs were thine, and Hermon's hill
Sent forth its odours, powers like thine to fill;
Seraphic strains allured thee-peace and joy,
Angelic anthems, saint's sublime employ.
And thou art passed to join them where they sing
Hosannas to the Everlasting King,

Forever in the Highest, there to raise

Songs ever new, to the Redeemer's praise.

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"Is not this the fast that I have chosen; to loose the bands of wickedness, to undo the heavy burdens, and to let the oppressed go free, and that ye break every yoke ?"-ISAIAH lviii. 6.

THE RECLUSE.

A LADY in a lady's bower
Secluded like a greenhouse flower,
From vulgar ken,

Pourtrays where love and truth abide,

The blessings of "mine ain fire-side,"
With graphic pen.

The Hour of Solitude on her,
Could many a heightened bliss confer,
For she could hail

Spirits long passed from earth away,
And those who greet our passing day
With love's sweet tale.

Which rising from the snow-wreaths there, Adorn the garden's gay parterre—

Purple and gold.

Like virtues to the Christian dear,
That crown adversity's dark year
With living light,

These emblematic blooms express
The charms of finished loveliness,
To cheer our sight.

She sang The Birthday, and the hours
Of childhood garlanded with flowers
Of joy and truth ;

She traced on life's progressive page,
The way-marks of our pilgrimage,-
The hopes of youth,

The sober certainties of things,
Pleasures that fleet on airy wings,
Nor tarry long;

The vast realities of time,

Mortality, of stamp sublime

The poet's song.

THE RECLUSE.

A lady in a lady's bower

Secluded, like a greenhouse flower,
From vulgar ken,

Pourtrays where love and truth abide,
The blessings of "mine ain fire-side”
With graphic pen.

There, gathered in Devotion's calm,
She owns the sanctifying balm
Of things divine;

The world with all its noisy din
Is banished, and we see within
The heart's true shrine.

Then might a lady such as this,
So wedded to sequestered bliss,
Consent to roam,

And find beneath a northern sky,
Where nature smiles in majesty,
A kindlier home?

Methinks I see her where a soul
Of empire bends his high control,
That heart to gain;

Methinks I see her planted there,

Where heavens are blue and flowers are fair,
In life's new reign.

The sun of happiness has shone,
Connubial bliss that heart has won,
As well may be ;

Then welcome each accordant rill

That flows our earthly cup to fill
Indulgently.

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The records of thy mental lore,
The muse's gifts,—a liberal store,
Thy polished lays ;

Thy soaring thought, with taste combined,
And all the garniture of mind,
Have won their bays.

And may Religion from on high,
Who crowns each faithful votary,

This truth impress,

That sense and taste and genius shine,
Clothed in her panoply divine,

Of righteousness!

Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning."-JAMES i. 17.

THE METEOR.

I SAW a blazing meteor in its course,
Eccentric, wild;

Urged onwards by a strange mysterious force,
Like passion's child.

Throughout a wide-spread orbit did it play
With magic power;

Upon the confines of celestial day

And night's dark hour.

THE METEOR.

Yes, meteor like, along its viewless way,
Thy being went ;

And light and shade adorned in grand display,
Thy firmament.

It shone with beams transcendent, and revealed
To mortal sight,

Where intellect in her exhaustless field,
Displayed its light.

'Twas thine to paint the ideal,-for thy ken
In visions high,

Aspired to blend the destinies of men
With prophecy.

And thou to charm our view, couldst body forth
That image fair,

Which in the lap of Eden drew its birth—
Its vital air

Our twofold state of being, where the mind
With riches fraught,

Soars on its airy pinions unconfined,
Or sinks in thought!

And this its beauteous domicile, its home
Which grace divine

Has dressed with fair perfections, there to come
And make its shrine.

The eye, in whose small orb is pictured well
Each gorgeous show;

The heavens where joy and adoration dwell,
And earth below-

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