May Death not pluck thee from her heart, Till pale with frost of wintry years! When thus thou must be loosed, depart Bedewed with more than subject's tears.

But now, the simple wreath I weave,
As redolent of love to thee,

Fair Queen, from o'er the deep receive,
A free-will offering of the free.

Newburyport, Mass. U. S.
January 1st, 1841.

SIMILITUDES.

BY JAMES MONTGOMERY, ESQ.

"I have used similitudes."-Hosea, xii. 10.

A Hailstone, from the cloud set free,
Shot, slanting coastward, o'er the sea,
And thus, as Eastern tales relate,
Lamented its untimely fate:

"Last moment born, condemn'd in this, The next absorpt in yon abyss:

'T were better ne'er to know the light, Than see and perish at first sight!" An Oyster, opening as it fell,

Welcomed the outcast to its cell,

B

Where, meekly suffering "a sea-change,"
It grew to "something rich and strange;
And thence became the richest gem
That decks the Sultan's diadem,
Turn'd from a particle of ice
Into a pearl of priceless price:

For thus the Power that rules o'er all,
Can raise the humble by their fall.

A Dewdrop, in the flush of morn,
Sparkled upon a blossom'd thorn,
Reflecting, from its mirror pure,
The sun himself in miniature.
Dancing for gladness on the spray,
It miss'd its hold, and slid away;
A skylark, mounting up to sing,
Caught the frail trembler on his wing;
But, borne aloft through gathering clouds,
Left it entangled with their shrouds :
Lost, and for ever lost, it seem'd,
When suddenly the sun forth gleam'd,
And round the showery vapours threw
A rainbow; - where our drop of dew,
'Midst the prismatic hues of heaven,
Outshone the beams of all the seven;
While hovering angels sang again,
"Peace upon earth, goodwill to men!"
And, "Glory in the highest be
To God!" responded earth and sea.

"

A Babe into existence came,

and parts,

A feeble, helpless, suffering frame;
It breathed below a little while,
Then vanish'd, like a tear, a smile,
That springs and falls that peers
The joy, the grief, of loving hearts.
The grave received the body dead,
Where all that live must lay their head.
Sank then the soul to dust and gloom,
Worms and corruption, in the tomb?
No! in "the rainbow round the throne,"
Caught up to paradise, it shone,

And still it shines, until the day,
When heaven and earth shall pass away,
And those that sleep in Jesus here,
With Him in glory shall appear;
Then will that soul and body meet,
And, when his jewels are complete,
'Midst countless millions, form a gem

In the Redeemer's diadem;

Wherewith, as thorns his brows once bound,

He, for his sufferings, shall be crown'd,

Raised from the ignominious tree

To the right hand of Majesty,

Head over all created things,

The Lord of Lords, the King of Kings.

The Mount, near Sheffield,

May 22d, 1840.

THE OLD MANOR-HOUSE.

BY N. MICHELL, ESQ.

'Tis sweet as the dawn flashes over the lawn,
The old Manor-house to see;

To hear the roused rooks, in their leafy nooks,
And the hum of the sportive bee.

'Tis merry to mark, on the smooth-shaven park,
The hunters dashing out,

Their wild steeds neighing, the eager hounds baying, With the whistle, the call, and the shout.

"Tis sweet when the sun, his race being run,

Kisses the mansion so old,

Warms the mossed wall, lights up the oak hall,

And bathes the trees in gold:

When the deer are at rest, and the rook seeks his nest,
And no sound on the calm air swells,

Save the peasant's low song, as he winds along,
Or the distant village bells.

Grey mansion, all hail! thou hast stood the gale,
Flood, fire, and the bolt of heaven,

Though days that have fled to thy hoary head,
A garland of ivy have given.

And still, beloved pile! in strength mayst thou smile,
For many a jovial year;

With thy rooks and thy lawn, thy hunters at dawn, And thy blithe old English cheer!