And sweeter far than melting voice,
Than all which through the day rejoice;
And still shall bard and wanderer love
The twilight music of the grove.

Father in Heaven! oh! thus, when day
With all its cares hath pass'd away,
And silent hours waft peace on earth,
And hush the louder strains of mirth;

Thus may sweet songs of praise and prayer
To Thee my spirit's offering bear;
Yon star, my signal, set on high,
For vesper-hymns of piety.

So may thy mercy and thy power
Protect me though the midnight hour;
And balmy sleep and visions blest
Smile on thy servant's bed of rest

PARAPHRASE OF PSALM CXLVIII.

Praise ye the Lord. Praise ye the Lord from the heavens: praise him in the heights.

PRAISE ye the Lord! on every height

Songs to his glory raise!

Ye angel-hosts, ye stars of light,

Join in immortal praise!

Oh! heaven of heavens! let praise far-swelling
From all your orbs be sent!

Join in the strain, ye waters, dwelling
Above the firmament!

For His the word which gave you birth,
And majesty and might;

Praise to the Highest from the earth,

And let the deeps unite!

Oh! fire and vapour, hail and snow,
Ye servants of His will;

Oh! stormy winds, that only blow
His mandates to fulfil:

Mountains and rocks, to heaven that rise;

Fair cedars of the wood;
Creatures of life, that wing the skies,
Or track the plains for food;

Judges of nations; kings, whose hand
Waves the proud sceptre high;
Oh! youths and virgins of the land,
Oh! age and infancy;

Praise ye His name, to whom alone
All homage should be given;
Whose glory from th' eternal throne
Spreads wide o'er earth and heaven!

THE NORTHERN SPRING.

WHEN the soft breath of Spring goes forth
Far o'er the mountains of the North,
How soon those wastes of dazzling snow
With life, and bloom, and beauty glow!

Then bursts the verdure of the plains,
Then break the streams from icy chains;
And the glad rein-deer seeks no more
Amidst deep snows his mossy store.

Then the dark pine-wood's boughs are seen
Array'd in tints of living green;
And roses, in their brightest dyes,
By Lapland's founts and lakes arise.

Thus, in a moment, from the gloom
And the cold fetters of the tomb,
Thus shall the blest Redeemer's voice
Call forth his servants to rejoice.

For He, whose word is truth, hath said,
His power to life shall wake the dead,
And summon those he loves, on high,
To "put on immortality!"

Then, all its transient sufferings o'er,
On wings of light the soul shall soar,
Exulting, to that blest abode,
Where tears of sorrow never flow'd.

3

DE CHATILLON;

ов,

THE CRUSADERS.

A TRAGEDY.

HITHERTO UNPUBLISHED.

(283)