Stern fate the greatest still enthralls,
And misery hath its high compeers:
For sorrow enters palace halls,

And queens are not exempt from tears.

The princely robe and beggar's coat, The scythe and sword, the plume and plough,

Are in the grave of equal note

Men live but in th' eternal "Now!"

Still disappointment tracks the proud,
The bravest 'neath defeat may fall :
The high, the rich, the courtly crowd
Find there's calamity for all.

'Tis not the house that honour makes-
True honour is a thing divine:
It is the mind precedence takes-
It is the spirit makes the shrine.

So keep thou yet a generous heart,

A steadfast and contented mind; And not till death consent to part

With that which friend to friend doth bind.

What's utter'd from the life within

Is heard not by the life without; There's always something to begin 'Twixt life in faith and life in doubt.

But grasp thou Truth, though bleak appears The rugged path her steps have trod; She'll be thy friend in other spheresCompanion in the world of God.

Thus dwelling with the wise and goodThe rich in thought, the great in soulMan's mission may be understood,

And part prove equal to the whole !

We know not half we may possess,
Nor what awaits, nor what attends,-
We're richer far than we may guess,
Rich as eternity extends.

The heart it hath its own estate,
The mind it hath its wealth untold;

It needs not fortune to be great,

While there's a coin surpassing gold!

CHARLES SWAIN, 1803

UNKNOWN HEROES.

OH! 'mid the dazzle and the glare
Of this world's fleeting show,
How many stout hearts sink beneath
A weight of battled woe-

Heroes whose names are scarcely breathed
Beyond home's humble hearth-

Who live unknown-unreck'd-of die-
The Brave Souls of the Earth!

And genius, glory, love to shed
Around the warrior's name,

And in verse or story consecrate

Their own bright sons to Fame; Thus morn's glad halo hovers o'er Proud peaks that pierce the sky, While shrouded in oblivion's gloom The lowly valleys lie.

Yet in the hidden vales of life

Are battles fought and won-
Genius, though seeking not the blaze
Of Fame's too partial sun;

There oft are Fortune's stern scowls met,
Griefs uncomplaining borne—

With only God and Hope to cheer
Lone hearts with sorrow worn.

There have I seen strong men grow pale
Beneath the gripe of Want,

Disease's famish'd phantom form

The lowly dwelling haunt,

And Death the parent's fond hopes crush,

Relentless, one by one,

While from the gloom the suff'rers look'd,

And breathed, "Heaven's will be done!"

God knows, Wealth's favourites ne'er can know
The fortitude sublime

That nerves the poor man's soul to keep
Unstain'd by vice and crime;

When the partner of his wretchedness,

The children of his heart,

In looks of misery bid the tears
Of helpless sorrow start.

'Tis music to the soldier's soul
When a nation's proud acclaim
Greets him the laurell❜d conqueror
In war's unhallow'd game;
But loftier joy that hero boasts,
Who, toiling up life's road,
By unseen triumphs wins the smiles
Of conscience and of God!

Like the lonely bark that ploughs her way
Far on the dreary deep,

And sinks (unmark'd by all save Heaven)
Beneath the storm's wild sweep,

Earth's unknown heroes silently

The world's rough tempest brave,

And, gliding noteless o'er life's waste, sink
To a fameless grave.

Yet, what though unknown, ye warriors, if
Ye war for Truth and Love!
Unmark'd below, your silent lives
Are register'd above;

When the blood-bought laurels of the field
Beneath Time's touch shall die,

Ye nameless ones of earth shall shine
In Heaven eternally!

In that all-glorious land beyond
The grave's dark wilderness,
Where titles, riches, sounding names,

Sink into nothingness,

The wretched beggar's tatter'd garb,

By honest virtue worn,

Shall laugh the crime-stain'd diadems

Of guilty kings to scorn.

ANONYMOUS.

THE BEAUTIFUL.

WALK with the Beautiful and with the Grand,
Let nothing on the earth thy feet deter;
Sorrow may lead thee weeping by the hand,
But give not all thy bosom-thoughts to her:
Walk with the Beautiful.

I hear thee say, "The Beautiful! what is it?"
Oh, thou art darkly ignorant! Be sure

'Tis no long weary road its form to visit,

For thou canst make it smile beside thy door:

Then love the Beautiful!