This is, indeed, a dread and awful thing! SOUTHEY TO THE GNAT. WHEN by the greenwood side, at summer eve, -Ah! now thy barbed shaft, relentless fly, Lifts the broad shield, and points the glitt'ring spear. 1 Complete armour. ROGERS. POWER AND GENTLENESS; OR, THE CATARACT AND THE STREAMLET. NOBLE the mountain stream, Bursting in grandeur from its vantage ground; Of brightness-thunder in its deafening sound! Mark how its foamy spray, Arching in majesty the vaulted skies. Thence in summer-shower, Steeping the rocks around. O tell me where Could majesty and power Be cloth'd in forms more beautifully fair? Yet lovelier in my view And livelier growth it gives-itself unseen! It flows through flow'ry meads, Gladd'ning the herds which on its margin browse; Its quiet beauty feeds The alders that o'ershade it with their boughs. Gently it murmurs by The village churchyard-its low plaintive tone, A dirge-like melody, For worth and beauty modest as its own. More gaily now it sweeps By the small school-house, in the sunshine bright, And o'er the pebbles leaps, Like happy hearts by holiday made light. May not its course express, In characters which "they who run may read," Were but its still, small voice allow'd to plead ? What are the trophies gain'd By power, alone, with all its noise and strife, Niagara's streams might fail, And human happiness be undisturb'd; But Egypt would turn pale Were her still Nile's o'erflowing bounty curb'd! BARTON. THE WIDOW'S SON. ALAS! while health and hope were high, And smote the widow's son ! She watch'd his vigour waste away, The rose upon his cheek, she knew, Bloom'd not with health's transparent hue; It was a softer, fainter glow A tint of fading loveliness, Which told a canker lurk'd below:- Once more would brighten - but to fly When that false flush forsook his cheek, And spoke the pang he would not speak, And froze her fears to certainty. Nor deem it strange that hope had power To soothe her soul in such an hour. Where time has rent the lordly tower The spirit of her son to cheer With hopes she now had ceas'd to feel, From that dread stroke which menac'd near A few short bitter days to steal; To soothe the languor of decay She strove - all other cares were fled; And midnight's gloom, and morning's ray, Had nerv'd her weaker heart to bear; To see him die- and thus to die Of youth had pass'd unclouded by - Still watch'd with fond maternal care, The tear of love and pity shed. Oft would he bid her try to rest, And turn his pallid face away, The pangs, nor sigh nor sound express'd: Yet would her searching glance espy For what can 'scape a mother's eye? - Than ever mother lov'd before; So placid, so resign'd he lay, |