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VOL. IX.
JUST PUBLISHED
at the Miscellany Cfice i in Frienp- SOREN
rice Firry Cents.
Pr:
SEVEN TEEN LETTERS
“= BOETRY,
, he United States. Catholic Miscella :
Selected for tates. Cati Miscellany.’
h ve
IN REPLY TO FIVE ESSAY.
APPEARED IN THE GOSPEL weston AND
SOUTHERN EPISCOPAL RE
, CONTROVERTING SEVERAL vcavements MADE. .
: BY . :
‘THE HOUR OF DEATH.
roe BY MRS, HEMANS,
‘ Bo
_IN_HIS THIRTEEN LETTERS,
1
To TH
Leaves have’ their time to fall,, ‘ camer a REV. ‘BISHO vie owtees trary .
‘And flowers to wither at the North wind’s ‘broath, Don, MISCELLANY.
oA rs to sot—but all, ‘SSlander emil'd horribly to view
“Thou hast. all seasons for thine own, oh ‘Death: How wide her conquests daily grew ;
‘ ° ind the cr d levees wait,
Like oriental slaves of
“Day i is for mortal cai car Ofcit : pes
either sex whole arm rest. 3 : !
“Eve, for glad meetings mound the joyous hoarth— But chiefly of the fair ies pest
Night, for the dreams of sleep, the voice of prayers, ;
Corton.
5 Bat all: for thoes thou Mightiest of the Earth!
TO. .
1s expressed
- “Tho b anque et hath its hou : letters, to
“Its feverish hour of mirth, and song and wine;
-Thore comes a day for Grief’s o’er whelming powor
"A time for softer toars—but all are thine!
da
ee Youth, and the opening rose;
. _ Magoo like things too glorious for docay,
end smile at thee ‘But thou art not of those
. iP prey.
f.0, Leaves have their time to fall,”
And flowers to wither at the North wind’s breath; |
«- And stars to set—but all, .
* Thou hast al2 seasons for thine own, oh Death! Y
or ornament.
and -he hopes
: We know when moons shall wano—
birds from far shall th
hi gold
at ‘vi shall teach us when to look for thee? >
yer’ Ts it when’ Spring's f Sint gale
‘ Comes forth to whisper ‘where the violets lic!
ss," -* Ya it whon-roses in our path grow
They have one season—ail are ours ‘to die! t
&c. will
.Catho-*
: Thou art where billows foam—
“Thou art where music melts upon the air—
Thou art around usin our peacoful homo,
And the world calls us far~and thou art therel r
bou art whore friend meets friend. es
t \ Beneath the shadow of the elm to rest;
- ‘Thouart wore foe meets fooand trumpets rend:
iy cresi,
eaves have their time to fall :
And flowers to wither at thie North wind’s oat
And stara,to set—but
Thou hast all seasons nfo thine own, ‘oh Death!
THE FEAST OF LIFE.
Ibid ye to my mystic fea:
« Each ‘one thou lovest is gathered there:
_ Yet put thou ona mourning robe
*, And bind the cypress in thy hair.
The hall is vast and cold and drear ;
The board with faded flowers is spread
> Shadows. of beauty flit around,
* But beatity from cach bloom has fled. a
Ryan,
Charles
“ _ And music echoes from tho walls,
But music with a dirgo like sound, - ' *
And pale‘and silent are the guests, >
‘ And overy eye is on the ground. tn
Here take tho cup tho’ dark it seem,
And drink to human hopes and fears;
'Tis from their native element,
The cup is filled—it i is of tears.
What! ! turneat thou with averted brow?
Thou scornest this poor: feast of mine; ;,
see est for a purple ro!
ords, glad ‘smiles, a sunny wine.