Lines on the Death of an only Son.

ERE sleeps in peace a mother's joy,

HEA mother's pride and only boy:

mother's pride

The living keenly feels the blow,
That so untimely laid him low.
God! when my earthly race is run,

Restore to me my darling son !

A Glimpse of the World.

W

HILE gliding down life's rapid river,
Eddies strong impede our course,

And, baffling oft our best endeavor,
Whelm us with terrific force.

Here passions swell, and flashing bubbles
Burst their empty forms in air;
And on this busy stream of troubles
Float the barks of Hope and Care.

Here friends with honeyed accents cluster,
Thick as bees within their hive,

And at the social banquet muster,

Court and fawn, while all things thrive.

But let the sun that shines in gladness
Sink in gloom above our head,

And Want wear looks and weeds of sadness,
Where has boasted Friendship fled?

As unsubstantial shadows follow
Moving forms in sunny days,

Side by side, smooth flatterers hollow
Wait on knaves and sing their praise.

Men for different spheres are fitted,
Some to serve and some to rule,
And Merit oft may be outwitted,
Worth, a lackey, serve a fool.

Ambition's slaves ape ways of Fashion,
Gild the halls of empty Pride;
Or gayly with the spurs of Passion
Proudly on to ruin ride.

Ignoble minds presume that pleasures
Unalloyed with wealth are found,

And, dazzled by earth's glittering treasures,
Thirst for gold the world around.

Who can depend on Fortune fickle,

Or avert the fatal blow

When Death comes, with unsparing sickle, All our cherished hopes to mow?

There are no fragrant paths of roses
Free from pricking thorns of care,
And oft the grave untimely closes

Over Youth and Beauty fair.

From the palace to the cottage,

From the hovel to the throne,

From the cradle to life's dotage,
Where are Sorrow's tears unknown?

When the heart is sad and dreary,
And the Present seems to frown,

Oh! how many, of life weary,

Wish to lay its burden down!

What though the mind be stored with learning,
And life's prospect fair to see,

We ever feel our spirit yearning,
Like some caged bird, to be free.

The gaudy phantoms of the Present,
That we covet so, and chase,
Are like the rainbow evanescent,
Leaving no enduring trace.

So the world goes on revolving
In its orbit, as of yore,

While creeds and fetters are dissolving
Upon every tyrant shore.

Progression's god-like spirit ranges

Through all systems, young and old, That keenly feel approaching changes, Yet unwritten and untold.

When Freedom an Exile from Foreign Lands Came.

W

HEN Freedom an exile from foreign lands came,

Soon hill, grove, and valley rang loud with her name;

War's shrill-sounding bugles forth summoned our sires
To fight for their country, their altars, and fires.

Hope's star, that gleamed dimly, shines constant and clear,
No foes on our borders now hostile appear;

No war-worn and weary their slain comrades weep,
The sword's in its scabbard, and there let it sleep.

Our commerce thrives briskly, our sails stud the sea,
Our flag it waves proudly, to shelter the free;
With hearts beating grateful, and plenty in store,
We welcome the stranger that comes to our shore.

As falls the dew gently on mountain and lea,
So fall Heaven's blessings, Columbia! on thee:
Thy sons, like thy eagles, no foe can enslave;
Thy daughters weave garlands to honor the brave.