But ah, what words-what limner's magick art, His look can paint, or speak his anguished heart, When first his eyes his drooping daughter view!He stands aghast !-the event his fancy drew.

-She lives to reach her home. That altar stands, Where erst her youthful heart, in Hymen's bands, Was given to one, who now, in misery's doom, Must light with Hymen's torch her early tomb! -So dies ELVIRA! but no words can paint The endearing graces of that early saint! So dies Elvira ! thus Lysander mourns, While in his heart the Love of Jesus burns, Whose minister he is,and seeks relief

In duty's path, to quench his smouldering grief!

The next in order-lo! that MOTHER lies On yonder couch,-impatient for the skies. "My dear, my loved Elvira led the way; She greets my advent to the realms of day. I fear not Death; my Saviour smooths my bed, While on his breast I lean my aching head!" Thus faith in CHRIST dispelled all vain alarms; And thus MY MOTHER slept in Jesus' arms ! -I then was young :-but, oh! that death-bed scene Shall never fade, though ages intervene.

My Mother dead!-at thy loved name, the tear

Unbidden flows, as at thy funeral bier!

12

THE LAST OF HIS FAMILY,

Thy loss no earthly solace can supply ;-
To mourn, is vain :—to live, is—but to die !

ALMEDA lovely, youthful, blooming bride!
Thy lot comes next :-Again the whelming tide
Of anguish swells!-like Samiel's poisonous breath,
Consumption breathes, and blights' this flower in death!
-Thou dear companion of my early youth,

Clad in the vestments of unvarnished truth ;
Whose spotless mind embodied every charm,-
Whose heart, with sympathetick fervour warm :-
With every tie, to souls congenial, dear,

We could not hold you in this nether sphere.

By the safe-conduct of Religion's ray,

You left your friends and soared to endless day!

In you enclosure of romantick graves,

(New England's loveliest stream whose margin laves,) I saw Leander place thy covering sod,

And, in his anguish, cast his cares on God!

Inspire my Muse, Thou SOURCE of LIGHT divine! As I approach my FATHER's sacred shrine. My reverend Sire-Instructer, Guardian, Friend! Though not permitted on thy hearse to attend, Thy orphan child shall ne'er forget that day, When thou wast summoned from thy flock away. Though the companion of thy youth had died— Though of thy children none were near thy side

Yet friendship's ministerings thick clustered round, And 'mid thy lambs full many a friend was found. If on the couch of death a boon attends, Next to the Saviour, 'tis the love of friends. -Hear that dear sister of the Church inquire, If friendship's hand can any hope inspire? He sees affection's tears suffuse her eyes"Weep not for me"-the dying saint replies.: "That hope I long have cherished, still remains “An anchor to my soul;-and mortal pains,

Though now they rack this tenement of clay, "Insure me comfort in the realms of day.

"A rest remaineth for the child of God, "Who here in patience bears his chastening rod; "For this assured REST, I long-I pray"And hail release from this encumbering clay." -In the sure hope, immortal bliss to gain, This Christian Pastor rests from mortal pain.

And now my Brother! nearest me by birth, My only one-companion of my mirthMy first associate-brother, friend, and guide, Twined in whose heart, I sought no friend beside How tranquilly our youth, our childhood ran, 'Till time had led us to the state of man. My fortune led me through fair science' ways;Thee, Glory called to win the warrior's bays.

14

THE LAST OF HIS FAMILY.

And while me, Alma Mater nursed with care,

Thine was the lot the chance of war to share.
On bright Champlain, 't was thine to find a bed,
And blend thy graceful form with the promiscuous dead!
Thy requiem rose in martial musick's strains,
As moved thy corse o'er fierce Bellona's plains,
The rites were paid, without thy kindred near,-
Thy dust was hallowed with the stranger's tear!
-And though no marble indicates thy grave,
Where thou reposest, 'mid the unhonoured brave;
Posthumous praise, nor monumental stone

Could do thee justice, where thy worth was known.
A warmer heart ne'er glowed in human breast,
Nor nobler spirit mingled with the blest!

One more remains-my Sister, eldest born,
To twine with mine a heart with anguish torn
A few short years we sympathized in grief;
But soon Consumption came to her relief.
For, oh! what sweet release appears in sight,
As Faith unfolds to view the realms of light ;
Where saints adoring tread the blest abode,
And hymn the praises of their Saviour, God!
Oft had she mourned her friends-her children slain,
And borne, with patience, sickness, grief and pain.
But now reclining on the bed of death-
In form emaciate-with laborious breath-

I found this dear one!-But no speech can tell
What heavenly raptures in her bosom swell!
Her cares are cast upon her Saviour's breast,
With anxious longing for the last behest-
“Come, faithful Daughter, of my Father blest,
Dismiss thy pain, and share the promised rest."
What heavenly visions burst upon her sight!
She sees, unveiled, the glorious realms of light:-
The host redeemed, with songs of ceaseless praise,
Around the throne their Alleluias raise!

She longs-she pants, their radiant choir to join,
And swell the strain of harmony divine.

What slender tie her gentle spirit holds !

What fragile tenement her mind enfolds !

-The moment came :-With ardent love I pressed
That faded form on this fraternal breast;

With eyes unpraised, she seemed to pierce the sky,
Like proto-martyr Stephen, near to die.
While, thus, celestial visions blest her sight,
The gentle spirit winged her heavenward flight!
That peaceful soul forsook her frail abode,
And sought the embraces of her Father, GOD!
-Here, though I praised Immanuel's boundless Grace,
That gave her victory in the Christian race,-
Here-first, the gloom of darkness shrouds my soul,
As this last Sister to her earthly goal

With speechless grief, reluctant, I consign;

And wish-and pray-her grave were also mine!