Do good; shun evil; live not thou, As if at death thy being died; Nor Error's syren voice allow To draw thy steps from truth aside; Look to thy journey's end-the grave! And trust in Him whose arm can save. DESPONDENCY. A REVERIE. "TWAS on the evening of an August day, My bosom fill'd with visions of decay; To blast this lower world. I lean'd my side I thought of life, and love, and earthly bliss, Our fathers, where are they? The moss is green Upon the tablets that record their worth; I thought of men, who look'd upon my face, At evening on my knees, and press'd my hand,- How soon their flower was cropt, and laid below I thought of sunless regions, where the day Of ancient castles mouldering to the dust- Hanging in danky vaults, upon the walls, The unshelter'd cattle low'd upon the plain ;- Dim was the aspect of the sullen sky ;— The night scowl'd gloomier down:-I could not throw But loath'd the world, and coveted to die ; INCH-KEITH BEACON. FAR in the bosom of the night The Ochills' dusky summits rise, Their outlines starting, darkly bright, In the clear mirror of the skies; The northern skies, through which the Sun The circuit of his path explores, Imparting glory, never done, And life to other shores. And Silence reigns upon the sea, While hosts of stars are on their march, To stud the lucid canopy, That mantles the nocturnal arch. The beacon-light on yonder isle, Revolving, wanes, or waxes clear; And sheds a mild, but mournful smile, |