In climes full of sunshine, though splendid the

flowers,

Their sighs have no freshness, their odour no

worth;

'Tis the cloud and the mist of our own Isle of showers,
That call the rich spirit of fragrancy forth.
So it is not mid splendour, prosperity, mirth,
That the depth of Love's generous spirit appears;
To the sunshine of smiles it may first owe its birth,

But the soul of its sweetness is drawn out by tears.

AS SLOW OUR SHIP.

As slow our ship her foamy track
Against the wind was cleaving,
Her trembling pennant still look'd back
To that dear isle 'twas leaving.
So loath we part from all we love,
From all the links that bind us;

So turn our hearts as on we rove,
To those we've left behind us.

When, round the bowl, of vanish'd

We talk, with joyous seeming,

years

With smiles that might as well be tears,

So faint, so sad their beaming;

While mem'ry brings us back again

Each early tie that twined us,
Oh, sweet's the cup that circles then
To those we've left behind us.

And when, in other climes, we meet

Some isle, or vale enchanting,

Where all looks flow'ry, wild, and sweet,
And nought but love is wanting;
We think how great had been our bliss,
If Heav'n had but assign'd us

To live and die in scenes like this,

With some we've left behind us!

As trav'llers oft look back at eve,
When eastward darkly going,
To gaze upon that light they leave
Still faint behind them glowing,
So, when the close of pleasure's day
To gloom hath near consign'd us,
We turn to catch one fading ray

Of joy that's left behind us.

WHEN COLD IN THE EARTH.

WHEN cold in the earth lies the friend thou hast loved,

Be his faults and his follies forgot by thee then ; Or, if from their slumber the veil be removed,

Weep o'er them in silence, and close it again. And oh! if 'tis pain to remember how far

From the pathways of light he was tempted to roam, Be it bliss to remember that thou wert the star That arose on his darkness, and guided him home.

From thee and thy innocent beauty first came

The revealings, that taught him true love to adore, To feel the bright presence, and turn him with shame

From the idols he blindly had knelt to before. O'er the waves of a life, long benighted and wild, Thou camest, like a soft golden calm o'er the sea; And if happiness purely and glowingly smiled

On his ev❜ning horizon, the light was from thee.

And tho', sometimes, the shades of past folly might

rise,

And tho' falsehood again would allure him to stray, He but turn'd to the glory that dwelt in those eyes,

And the folly, the falsehood, soon vanish'd away. As the Priests of the Sun, when their altar grew dim, At the day-beam alone could its lustre repair,

So, if virtue a moment grew languid in him,

He but flew to that smile and rekindled it there.