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THE DAY OF LIFE.

I.

Oh! blue were the mountains,
And gorgeous the trees,
And stainless the fountains,
And pleasant the breeze;
A glory adorning
The wanderer's way,
In Life's sunny morning,
When young Hope was gay!

II.

The blue hills are shrouded,
The groves are o'ercast,
The bright streams are clouded,
The breeze is a blast;
The light hath departed
The dull noon of Life,
And Hope, timid-hearted,
Hath fled from the strife !

III.

In fear and in sadness,
Poor sports of the storm,
Whose shadow and madness
Enshroud and deform;
Ere Life's day is closing
How fondly we crave
The dreamless reposing-
The calm of the grave.

STANZAS.

I.

Oh! visit not
My couch of dreamless sleep,
When even thou shalt be forgot
By this so faithful breast;
But let the stranger watch my silent rest
With eyes that will not weep!

II.

Oh! come not, Maid !
I crave no sigh from thee,
E'en when my mouldering frame is laid
Within the cold dull grave;
For the yew shall moan, and the night-wind rave,
A fitting dirge for me!

III.

Oh! weep not, Love!
While grief were agony,
Wait 'till the balm of time remove
The fever of the brain,
And dear, though mournful dreams alone remain
Of me and misery!

IV.

Oh ! then, fair Maid !
By twilight linger near
The rustling trees whose green boughs shade
My lonely place of rest;
And hallow thou the turf that wraps my breast
With pity's purest tear !

BIRTH-DAY STANZAS TO MY CHILD.

I.

My spirit revels deep in dreams to-day;

I dimly recognize the scenes around; For though thy fairy form is far away,

And still thy father treads this foreign ground, He sees thee in thy native fields at play,

And hears thy light laugh's sweet familiar sound Merry and musical as birds in May !

II.

This is thy natal morn-a date how dear !

How many tender memories mark the time! How oft thy prattle charmed a parent's ear,

And soothed his soul in this ungenial clime ! How oft, when impious discontent was near,

Thy sinless smile hath kindled hopes sublime, And made the gloom of exile seem less drear !

III.

Though now in weary loneliness I learn

What countless miseries broken ties may
Though vainly to deserted rooms I turn

For one domestic charm, I will not 3
A shade upon this hour, nor idly ye.
For pleasures passed on Time's tr

u ving: Nor pine at Fate's decrees, howey

!

IV.

Dear Child ! to thee devoted is the day,

Thy brethren, (gentle twins,) and she who bears
A mother's sacred name, are proud and gay ;

The small white English cottage sweetly wears
A festal look, while friends and kindred pay

Their tribute-praise, foretel thy future years,
And paint the brightness of thine onward way.

V.

And when the cheerful feast is nearly o’er,

The wine-cup shall be filled, and thy dear name
Be fondly pledged each elder guest's before,

Regardful of the time; a pleasing shame
Shall flush thy cheek; and then the brilliant store

Of Birth-day gifts shall childhood's dreams inflame,
While aged hearts remember days of yore.

VI.

And yet, 'mid all this mirthfulness and pride,

The sudden tears shall dim thy mother's eye,
And thou, sweet boy, shalt sadly cast aside

Thy glittering gauds, and stand in silence by,
While prayers are breathed for him by fate denied

On England's happy shores to live or die,
Or cross again the severing waters wide.

VII.

But this blest day no cares shall shade my heart,

Save such as pass like clouds o'er summer skies ;
As once thy presence bade despair depart,
S "ow before thy memory sorrow flies;
turist momently around me start

r forms of home, that wake a sweet surprise,
tvian ns raised by some enchanter's art !
; O'rt. 19, 1831.

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ON PHYSIOGNOMY.

The lineaments of the body will discover those natural inclinations of the mind which dissimulation will conceal or discipline will suppress.

Lord Bacon. I knew by his face there was something in him.

Shukespeare. I am so apt to frame a notion of every man's humour or circumstances by his looks, that I have sometimes employed myself from Charing-cross to the Royal Exchange in drawing the characters of those who have passed by me. When I see a man with a sour rivelled face, I cannot forbear pitying his wife : and when I meet with an open ingenuous countenance, think on the happiness of his friends, his family and relations,

Addison.

PAYSIOGNOMY is a science which most people smile at, and which all practise. It is more easily ridiculed than abandoned. The old and the young, the wise and the foolish, the shrewd and the simple, the suspicious and the confiding, all trust more or less, either for good or for evil, to the outward and visible signs of the internal spirit. The philosophical testimonies in favor of this science are sufficiently respectable both in character and number. In the olden time the sages of Egypt and of India cultivated it with enthusiasm, and it is supposed that it was from those countries that Pythagoras introduced it into Greece.

Aristotle treated largely of the Physiognomy, not only of man, but of the brute creation. After his time many Greek authors wrote treatises upon the subject, of which a collection was formed and published in 1780. Like Medicine and Astrology it was for a long time associated with divination, and they who followed it as a profession did not confine their scrutiny to the mental charac

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