MORTALITY OF MAN.

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MORTALITY OF MAN.

"We spend our years as a tale that is told."

"All flesh is grass, and all the goodliness thereof is as the flower of the field." "What is your life? It is even a vapour, that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away."

"So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom."

LIKE as the damask rose you see,
Or like the blossom on the tree,
Or like the dainty flower of May,
Or like the morning to the day,
Or like the sun, or like the shade,
Or like the gourd which Jonas had,

E'en such is man ;-whose thread is spun,
Drawn out, and cut, and so is done.
The rose withers, the blossom blasteth,
The flower fades, the morning hasteth,
The sun sets, the shadow flies,
The gourd consumes-and man he dies!

Like to the grass that's newly sprung,
Or like a tale that's new begun,
Or like the bird that's here to-day,

Or like the pearlèd dew of May,
Or like an hour, or like a span,
Or like the singing of a swan,
E'en such is man ;-who lives by breath,
Is here, now there, in life and death.
The grass withers, the tale is ended,
The bird is flown, the dew's ascended,
The hour is short, the span not long,
The swan's near death,-man's life is done!

D D

RIVALRIES FORGOTTEN IN DEATH.

"The reconciling grave

Swallows distinction first, that made us foes:
There all lie down in peace together."

To mute and to material things

New life revolving Summer brings;
The vernal sun new life bestows

E'en on the meanest flower that blows;
But vainly, vainly may he shine
Where glory weeps o'er Fox's shrine;
And vainly pierce the solemn gloom,
That shrouds, O Pitt, thy hallowed tomb!

For ne'er held marble in its trust

Of two such wondrous men the dust.

Theirs was no common party race,
Jostling by dark intrigue for place:
Like fabled gods, their mighty war
Shook realms and nations in its jar;
Beneath each banner proud to stand,
Looked up the noblest of the land,

Till through the British world were known
The names of Pitt and Fox alone.
Now taming thought to human pride!
The mighty chiefs sleep side by side.

Drop upon Fox's grave the tear,

'T will trickle to his rival's bier :

O'er Pitt's the mournful requiem sound,
And Fox's shall the notes rebound.

The solemn echo seems to cry,

"Here let this discord with them die."

LOVE OF LIFE IN THE AGED.

2II

LOVE OF LIFE IN THE AGED.

O MY COevals! remnants of yourselves!
Poor human ruins, tottering o'er the grave
Shall we, shall aged men, like aged trees,
Strike deeper their vile root, and closer cling,
Still more enamoured of this wretched soil?
Shall our pale, withered hands be still stretched out,
Trembling, at once, with eagerness and age?
With avarice, and convulsions, grasping hard?
Grasping at air! for what has earth beside?
Man wants but little; nor that little, long;
How soon must he resign his very dust,
Which frugal nature lent him for an hour!
Years unexperienced rush on numerous ills;
And soon as man, expert from time, has found
The key of life, in opes the gates of death.

When in this vale of years I backward look,
And miss such numbers, numbers too of such,
Firmer in health, and greener in their age,
And stricter on their guard, and fitter far
To play life's subtle game, I scarce believe

I still survive and am I fond of life,
Who scarce can think it possible, I live?
Alive by miracle! if still alive,
Who long have buried what gives life to live,
Firmness of nerve, and energy of thought.
Life's lee is not more shallow, than impure,
And vapid; sense and reason show the door,
Call for my bier, and point me to the dust.

LIFE CONSUMMATED BY DEATH.

THE approach of death seems often to concentrate into man's last hours the characteristic tendencies of his life. When Wycliffe was thought to be dying the monks gathered round his bed, striving to draw from him a recantation. For some time he listened to them in silence. At length, bidding his attendants support him in.

bed, he raised his hand and exclaimed: "I shall not die but live, again to proclaim the evil deeds o, the Friars." And live he did, not only in the sense of being restored to life long enough to renew his battle with the monastic orders, but in surviving, so to speak, his own death, in the books which lived after him, and which for many generations dealt heavy blows against the power of Rome.

Even more characteristic was the death of the Venerable Bede. He was intently engaged upon a translation of the Gospel of St. John; and urged his amanuenses to make all possible speed, saying: "Go

LIFE CONSUMMATED BY DEATH.

213

on quickly, I know not how long I shall hold out." As the end drew nearer, his anxiety to complete the work grew ever stronger; till at last they said that only one chapter remained, and asked him whether his weakness was too great to proceed. He answered: "Take your pen, and write quickly." With brief interruptions, he continued dictating till the scribe said, "Dear master, there is yet one sentence not written." Again the dying man replied, "Write

"The sentence is now

quickly." Soon after the scribe said,
written." His work on earth was done.
to place him on the floor of his cell where
and singing, Glory to the Father, and to the
Ghost, he calmly fell asleep.

He commanded them he was used to pray; Son, and to the Holy

Happy the men who can feel that the business of their lives would not be an unseemly occupation for the chamber of death, and who can pass into their Maker's and their Master's presence fresh from that service which had engaged the brightness of their youth, the vigour of their manhood, and the maturity of their old age.