HATE.

While love inspires, and friendship warms All hearts, in ev'ry state, High over thee, grim hatred storms, As pitiless as fate.

Remorseless, unrelenting, hard, It holds its stubborn way, Which duty's claim cannot r.e.t.a.r.d, Nor righteous thoughts delay.

With steady look, it keeps its eye Fixed firmly on its foe; With panting zeal it hurries by, To make its deadly throw.

In bosoms white it sits in state, And often, faces fair Conceal the rankling fire of hate, Which looks may not declare.

It is not strange to church or state, For oft beneath the gown Of prelate grave, and judge sedate, It sits with hideous frown.

Disturbing truth and righteous law, It scorns the bitter tear, And laughs at all we hold in awe, And all that causes fear.

O G.o.d of love, and not of hate, Look down where'er we be, And s.n.a.t.c.h us, ere 'tis yet too late, From hate's black, raging sea.

From rolling tides of vengeful thought, Oh, lift us far above, And may we thank Thee as we ought, From pleasant seas of love.

DISPLAY.

Deep planted in the heart of man, Wherever you may go, Display hath fertile seeds, which sprout, And daily larger grow.

As oftentimes, in happy soil, A lofty tree may rise, And 'neath its gloomy, blighting shade, A sprout, fair, tender, dies.

One lovely sprout, yes, more than one Droops, dies beneath the shade, And, where might be a garden plot, A tangl'd waste is made.

Ill favor'd weeds, and poison'd fruit, In rank luxuriance reign, And virtuous plants may strive to grow, But strive to grow in vain.

Oh, man, why in thy foolish heart Should one seed grow so well, That naught but chaos there should reign, 'Mid poison plants of h.e.l.l.

Oh, man, immortal in thy soul, Thou dost possess a will, Then why not prune these noxious sprouts, With firm and steady skill.

If thou would'st make thy heart a plot, Trimm'd, bright, and pure, and clean, Oh, let no tree o'erpow'r the rest, Or rank o'ergrowth be seen.

THOUGHT.

The blight of life, the demon, Thought--BYRON.

With demon's shriek or angel's voice, 'Mid h.e.l.lish gloom, or heav'nly light, Thought haunts our path o'er land and sea, And dwells with us, by day and night.

In roomy hall, or narrow hut, It withers, blasts and kills with gloom, Or gently onward smooths the path Of him, who gives the tyrant room.

With siren voice it soothes our woe; It dwells with us in blissful dreams; But when we wake, it tells us then, That it is far from what it seems.

Rebellious o'er its prostrate slave, Its iron chain of bondage swings, Or, govern'd by a master hand, In numbers loud and strong, it sings.

And, with its keys of rarest mould, Its stores of h.o.a.rded wealth unlocks, It dives for man beneath the sea, And cleaves for him the hardest rocks.

Forever thus it lives and acts, With angel host, or demon throng,-- To sing with voice of heav'nly love, Or shout, with dismal, h.e.l.lish song.

Thus shall it live, thus shall it act, While ages shall their cycles roll; It leaves us when we reach the grave But oh? it rises with the soul.

And still it lives in that beyond, As here it lives in this our sphere, To light our road and cheer our path, Or torture us with nameless fear.

PURITY.

Keep pure the thoughts within thy mind, For they to actions turn, Which succor want, or pity woe, Or all but self they spurn.

Keep pure thy thoughts, for outward looks Will then in beauty shine; Although thy face be plain, 'twill be A human face divine.

Keep pure thy thoughts by trust in G.o.d, And, when in trouble's sea, Look thou for strength to brave the storm, Upon thy bended knee.

Then lift thy head with fearless front, For come whatever may, Thou'lt gather strength to brave it well, Thro' ev'ry pa.s.sing day.

Keep pure thy heart, oh, keep it pure, And thou wilt bless the hour, When thou withstood temptation's siege, And bridl'd pa.s.sion's pow'r.

FAREWELL.

Farewell! and know, where'er I roam, My heart still turns to thee, From s.p.a.cious halls, or trackless woods, Or on the foaming sea.

Farewell, my friend! oh, could I say, My love, my own, to you, My outlook on this dreary world Would have a brighter hue.

But duty calls, and I must go, E'en now, with outstretch'd hand, I take a sad, sad leave of thee, To dwell in distant land.

For thy sweet sake I'll onward toil, In earnest, patient strife.

Content, if thou shalt know I live An earnest, useful life.

And if, in future years thou'rt free, And none has gain'd thy heart, Oh, darling, wilt thou come to me, And we shall never part.

My shatter'd life will then be sweet, My spirit shall rejoice, And weariness forsake my frame, At thy dear, loving voice.

Farewell! farewell! and oh, the words Dwell on my falt'ring tongue; Oh, sad, despairing accents now, That from my lips are wrung.

O, G.o.d, look down in gracious love, And, for my pray'rs and tears, Oh! guide and bless that gentle maid, Through all the coming years.

And, if on earth we meet no more, Grant, in thy boundless love, That I till death may faithful be, And meet with her above.

IRELAND.