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His mind was a stranger to content, and as for peace he knew

her not:

Luxuries palled upon his palate and his eyes were satiate with purple ;

He could coin much gold, but buy no happiness with it.
And on a day, a day of dread, in the heat of inordinate am-

bition,

When he threw with a gambler's hand, to lose or to double his possessions,

The chance hit him, he had speculated ill,-and men began to whisper;

Those he trusted, failed; and their usuries had bribed him

deeply:

One ship foundered out at sea,-and another met the pirate,And so, with broken fortunes, men discreetly shunned him. He was a stricken stag, and went to hide away in solitude, And there in humility, he thought,-he resolved, and promptly acted:

From the wreck of all his splendors, from the dregs of the goblet of affluence,

He saved with management a morsel and a drop, for his daily cup and platter:

And lo, that little was enough and in enough was competence: His cares were gone,-he slept by night, and ived at peace by day;

Cured of his guilty selfishness,-money's love, envy, competition,

He lived to be thankful in a cottage that he has lost a palace: For he found in his abasement, what he had vanly sought in high estate,

Both mind and body well at ease, though robed the russet of the lowly.

ONCE more, a certain priest, happy in his higl.ation, With faith, and hope, and charity well served his village

altar;

As men count riches, he was poor; but great were his treasures in heaven,

And great his joys on earth, for God's sake doing good:
He had few cares and many consolations, one of the welcome

everywhere;

The laborer accounted him his friend, and magnates did him honor at their table:

With a large heart and little means he still made many grateful,

And felt as the centre of a circle, of calmness, and content. But on a weaker sabbath,-for he preached both well and wisely,

Some casual hearer loudly praised his great neglected talents: Why should he be buried in obscurity, and throw these pearls to swine?

Could he not still be doing good, the whilst he pushed his fortunes?

Then came temptation, even on the spark of discontent; The neighboring town had a pulpit to be filled: hotly did he canvass and won it:

Now was he popular and courted and listened to the spell of admiration,

And toiled to please the taste, rather than to pierce the con

science

Greedily he sought, and seeking found, the patronizing notice of the great;

He thirsted for emoluments and honors, and counted rich men happy:

So he flattered, so he preached; and gold and fame flowed in; They flowed in, he was reaping his reward,—and felt himself a fool.

Alas, what a shadow was he following,-how precious was the substance he had left!

Man for God, gold for good, this was his miserable bargain, The village church, its humble flock, and humbler parish priest,

Zeal, devotion, and approving heaven,-his books and simple

life,

His little farm and flower beds,—his recreative rambles with

a friend,

And haply at eventide the leaping trouts, to help their hum ble fare,

All these wretchedly exchanged for what the world called fortune,

With the harrowing conscience of a state relapsed to vain ambitions.

Then, for God was gracious to his soul, his better thoughts returned,

And better aims with better thoughts, his holy walk of old. Sickened of style, and ostentation, and the dissipative fashions of society,

He deserted from the ranks of Mammon, and renewed his allegiance to God:

For he found that the praises of men, and all that gold can

give,

Are not worthy to be named against godliness and calm contentment.

OF LIFE.

A CHILD was playing in a garden, a merry little child,
Bounding with triumphant health and full of happy fancies;
His kite was floating in the sunshine,—but he tied the string.
to a twig,

And ran among the roses to catch a new-born butterfly;
His horn-book lay upon a bank, but the pretty truant hid it
Buried up in gathered grass, and moss, and sweet wild-

thyme;

He launched a paper boat upon the fountain,-then wayward turned aside,

To twine some vagrant jessamines about the dripping mar

ble:

So, in various pastime, shadowing the schemes of manhood, That curly-headed boy consumed the golden hours:

And I blessed his glowing face, envying the merry little child, As he shouted with the ecstasy of being, clapping his hands for joyfulness:

For I said, Surely, O Life, thy name is happiness and hope, Thy days are bright, thy flowers are sweet, and pleasure the condition of thy gift.

A YOUTH Was walking in the moonlight, walking not alone,
For a fair and gentle maid leant on his trembling arm :
Their whispering was still of beauty, and the light of love
was in their eyes,

Their twin young hearts had not a thought unvowed to love and beauty:

The stars, and the sleeping world, and the guardian eye of

God,

The murmur of the distant waterfall, and nightingales warbling in the thicket,

Sweet speech of years to come, and promises of fondest hope, And more, a present gladness in each other's trust;

All these fed their souls with the hidden manna of affection, While their faces shone beatified in the radiance of reflected

Eden:

I gazed on that fond youth, and coveted his heart,

Attuned to holiest symphonies, with music in its strings;
For I said, Surely, O Life, thy name is love and beauty,
Thy joys are full, thy looks most fair, thy feelings pure and
sensitive.

A MAN sat beside his merchandise, a careworn altered man, His waking hope, his nightly fear, were money and its losses:

Rarely was the laugh upon his cheek, except in bitter scorn,

For his foolishness of heart, and the lie of its romance,

counting Love a treasure.

His talk is of stern Reality, chilling, unimaginative facts,
The dull material accidents of this sensual body;

Lucreless honor were contemptible, impoverished affection but a pauper's riches,

Duty, struggling unrewarded, the bargain of a cheated fool; The market value of a fancy must be measured by the gain it bringeth,

No man is fed or clothed by fame, or love, or duty :

So toiled he day by day, that cold and joyless man;

I gazed upon his haggard face and sorrowed for the change: For I said, Surely, O Life, thy name is care and weariness, Thy soil is parched, thy winds are fierce, and the suns above thee hardening.

A WITHERED elder lay upon his bed, a desolate man and feeble;

His thoughts were of the past, the early past, the bygone days of youth:

Bitterly repented he the years stolen by the god of this world:

Remembering the maiden of his love, and the heart-stricken wife of his selfishness.

For the sunshiny morning of life came again to him a vivid

truth,

But the years of toil as a long dim dream, a cloudy blighted

noon:

He saw the nutting schoolboy, but forgat the speculative merchant;

The callous, calculating husband was shamed by the generous lover;

He knew that the weeds of worldliness, and the smoky breath of Mammon,

Had choked and killed those tender shoots, his yearnings after honor and affection:

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