DEATH.

WRITTEN AT LAUREL HILL CEMETERY.

BY MRS. O. M. P. LORD.

Он, Death! sole power that mocks the unfettered will,
Through tears or bold defiance, changeless still,

What signs are here of man's despotic rule!
Stern marble conquered with a pliant tool!
Tall trees that erst in freedom reared the head,
A quiet shelter now above his dead!

This fairy spot, constrained to hold his trust,
And keep, 'mid all its beauty, mould'ring dust!
Mute tokens these of man's supremacy;

Yet warnings all that man must bow to thee.
Still, here are symbols, 'mid this homage, Death,
Of that which sets at naught thy changing breath;
Fair blossoms here, the frailest things on earth,
.Spring up and die, yet lo! another birth.

Bud, bloom, and blight in rapid circuit run,
And all, from loftiest down to lowliest one,

Thy wasting power defy, and live, despite
Thy with'ring touch, again with hue as bright;
So, Death, in human life are mem'ries dear,
Of absent friends too little prized when here;
Of gentle deeds, recalled, alas! too late,
On which thou canst not lay a finger's weight.

We live! despite thy power, more truly live;
Thou canst not take so much as thou dost give;
Ay, e'en thy proudest triumphs, Death, attest
The potent sceptre which from thee we wrest;
For mild reproof, or loving deed, through thee,
Assumes at once, "unearthly sanctity."

We rise in mighty presence from the grave,
Transcending all that former life e'er gave.
Thou canst not boast e'en this, of little worth;
Our seeming frail and feeble life on earth,
Doth cast aside, like silken band, thy chain,
Scorning to grace thy proud, triumphal train.
So, Death, we hurl thy challenge back to thee,
And ask, "Where yet has been thy victory?"

TRANSLATION FROM AN HUNGARIAN ALLEGORY.

BY JOHN BOWRING, ESQ.

In the midst of a boundless forest, intersected by a thousand paths, stood the temple of Happiness. It was encumbered by no decorations-it had no glare, no gorgeousness, but it rose in quiet beauty and simplicity. Beneath its dome was reared an unadorned altar, near which the Goddess stood, creating and dispensing her gifts with profuse generosity. I looked southwards, and observed afar off a crowd of worshippers, leaving behind them the mid-day sun, and advancing slowly towards the steps of the vestibule. They were met, at some distance, by another Divinity, with lofty brow and majestic gait, whose smiles seemed tempered by a dignified sobriety, and who beckoned to the travellers, that they should be less precipitate in their advance. I thought I heard the sounds of eloquence, though far away, and could clearly distinguish that the noble figure had presented to each of the approaching votaries, some treasure, which they held suspended in their hands. I hastened to the spot, and I discovered, that the Goddess of Wisdom had given to every one a lamp, filled with fragrant oil; and bid them all God speed; telling them, that its flame would guide them safely to the end of their pilgrimage. "I have not kindled its wick," she said, "for each of you will find fire in his progress." I moved forward with the crowd, and we passed another Divinity, who held a blazing torch. This was the Goddess of Instruction:-with cheerful condescension, she lowered her torch to the pilgrims as they passed-but I observed that many

of them had spilled the oil of their lamps; that some had soiled their wicks and others had allowed the dust and the breezes to extinguish the flame as they carelessly swung it about. I saw some, and they were mostly in the prime of life, who, while they lingered an instant for the purpose of kindling their lamps, were whirled away by fleet-footed tempters, who swiftly succeeded one another, and who, I was told, were the Sensual Pleasures. They were accompanied with loud and riotous music, which, though fascinating at first, grew, I observed, more and more discordant as they hurried on. Some of the pilgrims were beckoned away by spirits, invisible to me, though I heard a confusion of voices, and the words "Hither!" "Hither!" were often repeated. In the distance were mists, and clouds of darkness, that descended to the surface of the earth, in which I soon lost sight of many of the wanderers.

As the Goddess of Instruction waved her torch, it seemed often so nearly extinguished, that I could not trace her features-but the torch always brightened anew; and its reflection on the countenance of the pilgrims, looked like gleams of superhuman joy. Some there were, who made many vain attempts to light their lamps-they were mostly of the middle aged, and the old :—but the most interesting of all were groups of children, whose lamps burst into a flame, at the touch of the torch of the Goddess, as if their wicks had been dipped in ether. They played with them so carelessly, however, that many went out, and I traced the holders, either wandering blindly, as if without a guide, though the manifold paths of the forest; or lost sight of them in the dark vapors which enveloped them. Some of the restless children dashed their lamps to the ground, and laughed at a gray-headed man, who gathered the fragments together, while others mischievously flung dirt into the lamps of their play-fellows, many of whom they wearied, by compelling them frequently to return to the

Goddess, who, notwithstanding, looked on them graciously, and more than once uttered counsels of patience, and words of encouragement. I noticed, that those who had lost their lamps, were courted by a strange beldam, who, notwithstanding her age and her hideousness, exerted a sort of fascination, and gathered round her a number of fierce and busy votaries. Her name was Superstition; she was supported on two crutches, Egotism, and Cruelty; and I saw she sometimes lent them to her most active attendants, who foully waylaid and wounded those, who, holding their bright lamps, pursued their course with the steadiest step towards the temple. The beldam herself was principally engaged in tripping up the pilgrims; and, when they fell, in putting out their lamps, and snuffing up the foul stench, which I observed them to emit at the moment of their extinction. Many of their lights continued burning, in spite of all her activity; and a firm-footed passenger sometimes rescued them, as he journeyed forward. On others, which she could not extinguish, she heaped huge stones, bearing unintelligible inscriptions, through the crevices of which, however, glimmerings of radiancy might yet be observed. She seemed armed with tremendous authority; and ever and anon she roused a terrible tempest, which scattered the pilgrims over the many paths of the forest. Then the heavens grew black, and the earth groaned and scarce a ray could be seen amidst the gloomy desolation. When the storm subsided, I was astonished at the terrible destruction. The various wood paths were covered with pilgrims, who had lost their way, and were inquiring of each other where was the Temple of Happiness. Some had been the prey of wild beasts-others had been led, by the ignis fatuus lights of the morass, into entangling dells and dingles-some had been flung into stagnant pools, where they were struggling against suffocation; and others, in despair, had sought the protection of broad-winged fiends