Oh! what is silence here below?
The quiet of conceal'd despair,
The pause of pain, the dream of woe :
It is the rest of rapture there.

And, to the wayworn pilgrim here,
More kindred seems that perfect peace,
Than the full chaunt of joy to hear
Roll on, and never, never cease.

From earthly agonies set free,

Tir'd with the path too slowly trod,
May such a silence welcome me
Into the palace of my God!

In proportion as any one is excellent, does he stand less in need of extrinsic testimony: for a good man, satisfied with himself, does nothing in order that it might be known. If he wants commendation, he has virtue ever with him for his best commender; if he wants defence, and it is no uncommon thing for him to be assailed by slander and envious abuse, he intrenches himself in his own integrity, and in the impregnable consciousness of righteous deeds; where, as within a rampart and strong fortress, he receives the vain assaults, and frustrates the darts of unprincipled men.

MILTON.

NOT seldom is the soul depress'd
Whilst tearless is the eye,

For there are woes that wring the breast
When Feeling's fount is dry;

Sorrows that do not fade with years,

But, dwelling all too deep for tears,

Rankle eternally!

A. A. WATTS.

It

THE sound, and proper exercise of imagination, may be made to contribute to the cultivation of all that is virtuous, and estimable in the human character. leads us in particular, to place ourselves in the situation of others, to enter into their feelings and wants, to participate in their distresses. It thus tends to the cultivation of sympathy, and the benevolent affections; and promotes all those feelings which exert so extensive an influence in the duties of civil and religious intercourse. We may even say, that we exercise imagination, when we endeavour to act upon that high standard of morals, which requires us, to do to others, what we would be done by." For in this situation, we must imagine ourselves in the situation of other men, and in their character, judge of our own conduct towards them. Thus, the man deficient in imagination, though he may be free from any thing unjust or dishonourable, is apt to be cold, contracted, and selfish, regardless of the feelings, and indifferent to the distresses of others.

66

ABERCROMBIE.

WHAT is the worst of woes that wait on age?
What stamps the wrinkle deeper on the brow?
To view each lov'd one blotted from life's page,
And be alone on earth as am now.

Before the Chastener humbly let me bow,
O'er hearts divided, and o'er hopes destroyed;
Roll on, vain days! full reckless may ye flow,
Since time hath reft whate'er my soul enjoy'd,
And with the ills of eld mine earlier years alloy'd.

BYRON.

THE Voice of reason is more to be regarded than the bent of any present inclination; since inclination will at length come over to reason, though we can never force reason to comply with inclination.

ADDISON.

LIFE.

66 WHAT is the gift of life?"

Speak thou, in young existence revelling;
To thee it is a glorious, god-like thing;
Love, Hope, and Fancy lead the joyous way,
Ambition kindles up her living ray.

There is a path of light mark'd out for thee,
A thornless path, and there thy way shall be:
A thousand spirits by thy side shall fall,
But thou shalt live, and look beyond them all;

Yes, Life indeed may seem a joyous thing.

"What is the gift of Life"

To thee, subdued and taught by wisdom's voice,
Wisdom of stern necessity, not choice?

Whose cup of joy is ebbing out in haste,
Who has no fountain to supply the waste;
Whose spirit, like some traveller gazing round
On broken columns in the desert ground,
Sees but sad traces on a lonely scene,

Of what Life was, and what it might have been;
Oh! is not Life a sad and solemn thing?

"What is the gift of Life"

To him who reads with Heav'n-instructed eye?
Tis the first dawning of eternity;

The future Heaven just breaking on the sight;
The glimmering of a still increasing light;
Its cheering scenes foretastes of heavenly joy,
Its storms and tempests sent to purify:

Oh! is not Life a bright inspiring thing?

"What is the gift of Life"

To him whose soul through this tempestuous road
Hath past, and found its Home, its Heav'n, its God?
Who sees the boundless page of knowledge spread,
And years, as boundless, rolling o'er his head;
No cloud to darken the celestial light;

No sin to sully, and no grief to blight;

Is not that better light a glorious thing?

EMILY TAYLOR.

A PERFECT democratical representation may exist, and, for aught I know or care, may exist beneficially as a whole. But I am not sent to Parliament to inquire into the question whether a democracy or a monarchy is the best. My lot is cast under the British monarchy: under that I have lived, under that I have seen my country flourish, under that I have seen it enjoy as great a share of prosperity, of happiness, and of glory, as I believe any modification of human society to be capable of bestowing, and I am not prepared to sacrifice, or to hazard the fruit of centuries of experience, of centuries of struggles, and of more than one century of liberty, as perfect as ever blessed any country upon the earth, for visionary schemes of ideal perfectibility, or doubtful experiments even of possible improvement.

CANNING.

WHAT are the ensigns of imperial sway?
What all that Fortune's lib'ral hand has brought ?
Teach they the voice to pour a sweeter lay,
Or rouse the soul to more exalted thought?

When bleeds the heart as Genius blooms unknown,
When melts the eye o'er Virtue's mournful bier
Not wealth, but pity, swells the bursting groan;
Not pow'r, but whispering Nature, prompts the tear.

OGILVIE.