OGILVIE.

The wild birds now are nesting,

On his lone turrets high !— And there the stork is resting

From her long flight, in the sky! Faded the ravished bowers,

Where he was wont to roam;

In ruins heaped the towers,

That once he called his home.

All sadly lone and desolate !

No banner's pomp is seen!

Where monarchs sat enthroned in state,
Dark Ruin's scythe has been!
But Friendship and Affection,
Shall long their vigils keep,

With wakening recollection

To mourn his dreamless sleep!

!

'Tis past we gather flowers,

Sweet flowers of earliest bloom

Bright emblems of departed hours,

To hang around his tomb!

141

A DIRGE,

SUNG IN MEMORY OF LANE, O'BRIEN, AND SMITH, OF THE CLASS OF 1838.

BY ROBERT WYMAN. *

COMRADES, we meet to mourn the dead!

We meet-but ah! not all;
Our tears of grief may not be shed

Upon the funeral pall.

Far, far away from this dear haunt,
Our friends and classmates sleep;
Yet here may we their requiem chaunt,
And o'er their memory weep.

Well hath the classic poet sung, t
That Death with equal stride
Knocks at the gate of old and young-

Of poverty and pride.

Horace Lib. 1. Car. 4. Palida Mors, etc.

A DIRGE..

Though dust to dust may be consigned-
Friend after friend depart;

Their cherished names shall be enshrined
In many a living heart.

But while our hearts with anguish bleed,
We bow beneath the rod;

Oh! may we all this warning heed,
'Prepare to meet thy God!'

e-when down death's dreary coast

And we

Our shattered barks are driven; By sea and storm no longer tossedMay we repose in heaven.

143

ST. JOHN IN EXILE.

BY ANDREW DUNNING.

DEATH was decreed, or banishment, to all of christian

faith,

And he stood before the Roman power, for exile, or for death.

The weakness of declining years was all forgotten

now;

He stood erect with fearless eye, and an unquailing

brow.

Though storms might break in darkness round, there was an arm to save,

Through faith he trode the lifting seas, for Christ was on the wave.

Amid the war of elements, he saw the rainbow

dyes

Arching in bows of promise sure, across the frowning

skies.

ST. JOHN IN EXILE.

145

The clouds hung heavy o'er his head, but sunlight in

his soul

Darted athwart the fearful gloom, and richly tinged the whole.

He gazed upon the soldier guard, with spear and waving crest;

And the thronging mass of bloody men that round him thickly prest;

Calm and undaunted was his gaze, and through the troubled air,

Went up from his confiding heart, the spirit-whispered prayer.

His heart was fixed, his faith was firm, for he leaned upon the breast

Of his beloved Savior still, and felt the promised rest. The stern decree of banishment to Patmos' lonely

shore,

Was circled with celestial light, and tints of glory

bore.

"Twas joy to leave a treacherous world, 'twas happi

ness to meet

Far from the faithlessness of man, a solitude so

sweet;

'Twas joy to share the angry scorn by persecutors

poured,