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TIME.

'HY sitt'st thou by that ruined hall, Thou aged carle, so stern and grey? Dost thou its former pride recall,

Or ponder how it passed away?"

"Know'st thou not me?" the Deep Voice cried,

"So long enjoyed, so oft misused;

Alternate, in thy fickle pride,

Desired, neglected, and accused.

"Before my breath, like blazing flax

Man and his marvels pass away;

And changing empires wane and wax,
Are founded, flourish, and decay.

"Redeem mine hours,-the space is brief,-
While in my glass the sand-grains shiver,
And measureless thy joy or grief

When Time and thou shalt part for ever."

(Scott.)

TOM BOWLING.

ERE, a sheer hulk, lies poor Tom
Bowling,

The darling of our crew ;

No more he'll hear the tempest howling,
For death has broached him to.

His form was of the manliest beauty,
His heart was kind and soft,

Faithful, below he did his duty,

But now he's gone aloft.

*

*

*

Yet shall poor Tom find pleasant weather,

When He who all commands

Shall give, to call Life's crew together,

The word to pipe all hands.

Thus Death, who kings and tars despatches,

In vain Tom's life has doffed,

For though his body's under hatches

His soul has gone aloft.

(Dibdin.)

THE VOYAGE OF LIFE.

VOYAGE at sea and all its strife,
Its pleasure and its pain,

At every point resembles life,—

Hard work for little gain.

The anchor's weighed, smooth is the flood,
Serene seems every form,

But soon, alas! comes on the scud
That speaks the threatening storm :
The towering masts in splinters shivering,
The useless sails in tatters quivering,
Thunder rolling, lightning flashing,
Waves in horrid tumult dashing
Foam along the dreary shore :
Still, while tars sit round so jolly,
The sprightly flute calls care a folly,

Aloft, alow, afloat, aground,

Let but the smiling grog go round,

And storms are heard no more.

The voyage through life is various found,

The wind is seldom fair,

Though to the straits of pleasure bound,
Too oft we touch at care.

R

Impervious dangers we explore;
False friends, some faithless she,
Pirates, and sharks, are found ashore
As often as at sea.

A lowering storm from envy brewing
Shall at a distance menace ruin;
While slander, malice, and detraction
A host of fiends shall bring in action,
And plant care's thorns at every pore.
Yet, roused to sweet domestic duty,
Some manly imp, or infant beauty

Clings round his neck or climbs his knees,-
Each thorn's plucked out, pain's turned to

ease,

And storms are heard no more.

The ship towers gaily on the main,

To fight in country's cause,

And bid the obedient world maintain

Its honours and its laws;

Nor from surrounding danger shrinks
Till, sacrifice to fame,

Death dealing round, she nobly sinks,
Only to live in name.

And so the man,-his ample measure

Filled with alternate pain and pleasure;

Till, long in age and honour living,
Life's strength worn out, a lesson giving
To those he leaves his well-got store,
Mild hope and resignation greeting,
The playful soul, in circles fleeting,
Makes onward to its native skies;

While gasping nature pants and dies,
And storms are heard no more.

(Dibdin.)

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