'TWAS

Byron

'WAS whisper'd in heaven, 'twas mutter'd in hell, And echo caught faintly the sound as it fell; On the confines of earth 'twas permitted to rest, And the depths of the ocean its presence confess'd; 'Twill be found in the sphere when 'tis riven asunder, Be seen in the lightning, and heard in the thunder: 'Twas allotted to man with his earliest breath, Attends at his birth and awaits him in death; It presides o'er his happiness, honour, and health, Is the prop of his house and the end of wealth; Without it the soldier, the seaman may roam, But woe to the wretch that expels it from home! In the whispers of conscience, its voice will be found, Nor even in the whirlwind of passion be drown'd; 'Twill not soften the heart, and though deaf to the ear, 'Twill make it acutely and instantly hear. In shade let it rest, like a delicate flower,Oh, breathe on it softly-it dies in an hour.

Thee, when young Spring first question'd Winter's sway. And dared the sturdy blusterer to the fight,

Thee on this bank he threw

To mark his victory.

In this low vale, the promise of the year,
Serene, thou openest to the nipping gale,
Unnoticed and alone,

Thy tender elegance.

So virtue blooms, brought forth amid the storms
Of chill adversity; in some lone walk

Of life she rears her head,

Obscure and unobserved;

While every bleaching breeze that on her blows
Chastens her spotless purity of breast,

And hardens her to bear

Serene the ills of life.

RESIGNATION.

(Chatterton.)

GOD, whose thunder shakes the sky,
Whose eye this atom globe surveys,

To thee, my only rock, I fly,

Thy mercy in thy justice praise.

The mystic mazes of thy will,

The shadows of celestial light,
Are past the powers of human skill;
But what th' Eternal acts is right.

O teach me in the trying hour,

When anguish swells the dewy tear, To still my sorrows, own thy power, Thy goodness love, thy justice fear.

If in this bosom aught but thee, Encroaching sought a boundless sway, Omniscience could the danger see,

And mercy look the cause away.

Then why, my soul, dost thou complain? Why drooping seek the dark recess? Shake off the melancholy chain,

For God created all to bless.

But, ah! my breast is human still;
The rising sigh, the falling tear,
My languid vitals' feeble rill,

The sickness of my soul declare.

But yet, with fortitude resign'd,

I'll thank th' infliction of the blow, Forbid the sigh, compose my mind, Nor let the gush of misery flow.

The gloomy mantle of the night,
Which on my sinking spirit steals,

Will vanish at the morning light,

Which God, my East, my Sun, reveals.

WAS

(Mrs Stowe)

AS he alone that long night, whose brave loving spirit was bearing up, in that old shed, against buffeting and brutal

stripes?

Nay! There stood by him One, seen by him alone, "like unto the Son of God." The tempter stood by him, too, blinded by furious despotic will, every moment pressing him to shun that agony, by the betrayal of the innocent. But the brave true heart was firm on the Eternal Rock. Like his Master, he knew that, if he saved others, himself he could not save; nor could utmost extremity wring from him words, save of prayer and holy trust.

"He's most gone, mas'r," said Sambo, touched, in spite of himself, by the patience of his victim.

"Pay away till he gives up! Give it to him! Give it to him!" shouted Legree. "I'll take every drop of blood he has, unless he confesses."

Tom opened his eyes, and looked upon his master. "Ye poor miserable critter!" he said, "there an't no more ye can do! I forgive ye with all my soul!" and he fainted entirely away.

"I b'lieve my soul he's done for, finally," said Legree, stepping forward to look at him. "Yes, he is! Well, his mouth's shut up at last, that's one comfort!"