HE NORTH STAR.

d solemn night

er multitude of cheerful fires;

ests of light

emisphere till she retires;

watches, gliding slow,

come, and climb the heavens, and go.

many a star

orgeous reign, as bright as they :

e blue fields afar,

wow in his flaming way:

geter, as the eve grows dim,

t troop arose and set with him.

Codest see them rise,

e and thou dost see them set.
y cold skies,

old unmoving station yet,
aces of that glittering train,
gin orb in the blue western main.

There, at morn's rosy birth,

Thou lookest meekly through the kindling air,
And eve, that round the earth

Chases the day, beholds thee watching there;
There noontide finds thee, and the hour that calls
The shapes of polar flame to scale heaven's azure walls.

Alike, beneath thine eye,

The deeds of darkness and of light are done;

High toward the starlit sky

Towns blaze, the smoke of battle blots the sun,

The night storm on a thousand hills is loud,

And the strong wind of day doth mingle sea and cloud.

On thy unaltering blaze

The half-wrecked mariner, his compass lost,

Fixes his steady gaze,

And steers, undoubting, to the friendly coast;

And they who stray in perilous wastes, by night, Are glad when thou dost shine to guide their footsteps right.

And, therefore, bards of old,

Sages and hermits of the solemn wood,

Did in thy beams behold

A beauteous type of that unchanging good, That bright eternal beacon, by whose ray

The voyager of time should shape his heedful way.

Great Barrington, 1825.

“United States Literary Gazette,” January 15, 1825.

THE LAPSE OF TIME.

L

AMENT who will, in fruitless tears,

The speed with which our moments fly;

I sigh not over vanished years,

But watch the years that hasten by.

Look, how they come-a mingled crowd
Of bright and dark, but rapid days;
Beneath them, like a summer cloud,
The wide world changes as I gaze.

What! grieve that time has brought so soon
The sober age of manhood on!

As idly might I weep, at noon,
To see the blush of morning gone.

Could I give up the hopes that glow
In prospect like Elysian isles;
And let the cheerful future go,

With all her promises and smiles?

The future-cruel were the power

Whose doom would tear thee from my heart, Thou sweetener of the present hour! We cannot-no-we will not part.

Oh, leave me, still, the rapid flight
That makes the changing seasons gay,
The grateful speed that brings the night,
The swift and glad return of day;

The months that touch, with added grace,
This little prattler at my knee,
In whose arch eye and speaking face
New meaning every hour I see;

The years, that o'er each sister land.
Shall lift the country of my birth,
And nurse her strength, till she shall stand
The pride and pattern of the earth:

Till younger commonwealths, for aid,
Shall cling about her ample robe,
And from her frown shall shrink afraid
The crowned oppressors of the globe.

True-time will seam and blanch my brow—
Well I shall sit with aged men,
And my good glass will tell me how
A grizzly beard becomes me then.

And then, should no dishonor lie
Upon my head, when I am gray,
Love yet shall watch my fading eye,
And smooth the path of my decay.

Then haste thee, Time-'tis kindness all
That speeds thy wingèd feet so fast:
Thy pleasures stay not till they pall,
And all thy pains are quickly past.

Thou fliest and bear'st away our woes,
And as thy shadowy train depart,
The memory of sorrow grows

A lighter burden on the heart.

Great Barrington, 1825.

"United States Literary Gazette," February 15, 1825.