It buzzed upon his lovely cheek, With joy to own so sweet a prey. And yet, alas! it could not harm- From Johnny's timeless fate take heed, But if we keep God's sacred laws, We'll greater be,-when Time is gone! THE POWER OF LOVE AND SIN. The pleasures of the body were truly called by Plato, "the allurements and baits to evil.” "Look, here comes one, who, falling in the flames of her own youth, hath blistered her report."--Shakespeare. "Thou knowest, in the days of innocence, Adam fell; so what could poor Jack Falstaff do in the days of villany?"-Ibid. MANY a Prosperina gathers flowers, And spend in innocence unguarded hours ;— In vain then Venus and her nymphs will rush Yet, at the last, he lived and died her slave, Mark Antony also, as brave a man, became the enamoured slave of Cleopatra. Р THE CROUP. "Though death is before the old man's face, he may be as near the young man's back." Nay! "Whithersoever thou goest, death follows as a shadow follows a body." Ay! and "it waits upon life as surely as night upon day, or the shadow upon the sunbeam, though we know not when or from whence it is to come upon us." "There is no flock, however watched and tended, Then But one dead lamb is there, There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended, But has one vacant chair." "Let us be patient! severe afflictions But oftentimes celestial Benedictions Assume this dark disguise."-Longfellow. "Why, let the stricken deer go weep, The hart ungalled play; For some must watch, while some must weep: AULD Winter's snaw had thawed awa', CAULD And cheerful Spring had come again; Again the gowans decked the lea, And purple heath began to bloom; With humming, broke the wintry gloom; Again the foxglove's dappled throat While hazel tassels fringed ilk moat, So, like the rose and purple heath, Nae blyther lambie frisked the lea, Nor fairer bloomed the opening flower; Nae sweeter birdie graced the tree, Nor fonder heart in lady's bower. How proud his mother led him past, But, ah! we little know the fate Which heaven, in mercy, hides from man, Upon the beach she gathered shells, That evening, at my wonted walk, Which lurks beneath the eastern harr; A cloud would hide my morning star. I snatched him up, and hastened home, Like blighted bud upon the tree, Or blasted flower, wee William lay; Nae mair again to tread the lea, Nae mair with gowans gleeful play. He died, and as I saw him droop, Was crushing life through every pore. Even now I see his struggling arm, And wild, unearthly pleading eye!Yet Heaven but snatched from further harm, And now sweet William blooms on high. THE PROUD NOT THE BEST. "Oh! fear not in a world like this, To suffer and be strong."-Longfellow. "The way is long, my children, long and rough, Hath missed the discipline of noble hearts."-Old Play. "The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, Good and ill together; our virtues would be proud, Would despair, if they were not cherished by our virtues." Shakespeare. "I am for the house with the narrow gate, which I take to be too little for pomp to enter."-Ibid. "I have seen the wicked man flourish in his power, even like unto a laurel but I returned and he was not--yea, I sought him, but he was not to be found.' -- Holy Writ. BEHOLD yon poor and careworn man, So calmly struggling 'gainst his adverse fate, Ah no! too well he knows the chastening rod He bows his head and says, "So let it be !" While God can o'er eternity preside. And help to bathe and soothe his withered mead. And, like the eagle, sees Truth's brightest beams. A good man never will the poor insult, the away prop Nor knock Such souls would cringe, like curs, to higher rank, True nobleness of soul is never found Beneath the pompous or pretentious coat,- 'Tis there the braggart swells his empty throat. The bird which soars upon the highest wing, With modest plumage sweeps the meadows round, The sweetest warbler of the thorny glade No gaudy hue the busy bee adorns, Nor wasp-like form to please the wanton eye- And what is man, for all his proud array, When, jackdaw-like, he struts in borrowed pride? A bubble floating down Time's silent tide. The humblest mind which inward leans on God, Go then, be wise! and humbly bear life's load, For man's chief end on earth, is heaven to gain ! "Shall I weigh the loss of life, a commodity always so uncertain, against the chance of that immortality which will survive in my lay after my broken voice and shivered harp shall no longer be able either to express tune or accompany tale?" So said Sir Walter Scott, who may be said to have died in harness, nobly struggling to extricate the carriage of his worldly means from the quagmire of insolvency, and as nobly succeeded, though at the expense of shortening his earthly existence. In his introduction to "Quentin Durward" he says: "There is enough of the leaf left for the caterpillar to coil up his chrysalis, and what needs he care though reptiles have devoured the rest of the bush?" |