lts away—
But can the wiles of art, the grasp of power, Snatch the rich relics of a well-spent hour 1 These, when the trembling spirit wings her flight, Pour round her path a stream of living light, And gild those pure and perfect realms of rest, Where virtue triumphs and her sons are blest!
Life is but a day at most, Sprung from night,.in darkness lost; Hope not sunshine every hour, Fear not clouds will always lour.
Burns.
Oh ! golden link! connecting man with man,
Celestial Charity ! oh, rarely seen Since lust of rule and thirst of gold began
Unhallow'd reign—whene'er thy look serene
Sheds placid influence, how the soften'd mien, And soften'd heart, consenting, own thy sway !
Thus rifted ice, enchain'd by winter keen, Thaw'd by the sun, in rivers rolls away, And glads the parched waste, and sparkles to the day.
Gally Knight.
This life will not admit of equality; but surely that man who thinks he derives consequence and respect from keeping others at a distance, is as base minded as the coward, who shuns the enemy from the fear of an attack.
