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I turn'd me to the Rich Man then,
For silently stood he,-
You ask'd me why the poor complain,
And these have answer'd thee.

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STAND up erect! Thou hast the form
And likeness of thy God!-who more?
A soul as dauntless 'mid the storm
Of daily life, a heart as warm

And pure as breast e'er wore.

What then?-Thou art as true a MAN

As moves the human mass among;
As much a part of the great plan
That with creation's dawn began,
As any of the throng.

Who is thine enemy?—the high

In station, or in wealth the chief? The great, who coldly pass thee by, With proud step, and averted eye? Nay! nurse not such belief.

If true unto thyself thou wast,

What were the proud one's scorn to thee? A feather, which thou mightest cast Aside, as idly as the blast

The light leaf from the tree.

No:-uncurb'd passions-low desires-
Absence of noble self-respect-
Death, in the breast's consuming fires,
To that high nature which aspires
For ever, till thus check'd':

These are thine enemies-thy worst:
They chain thee to thy lowly lot-
Thy labour and thy life accurst.
Oh, stand erect! and from them burst!
And longer suffer not!

Thou art thyself thine enemy!

The great!-what better they than thou? As theirs, is not thy will as free? Has God with equal favours thee Neglected to endow?

True, wealth thou hast not: 'tis but dust!
Nor place uncertain as the wind!
But that thou hast, which, with thy crust
And water, may despise the lust

Of both a noble mind.

With this, and passions under ban,
True faith, and holy trust in God,
Thou art the peer of any man.
Look up, then-that thy little span
Of life may be well trod!

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-American.

M. D. GALLAGHER, 1808—

NOW AND THEN.

Now is a constant warning stroke
Beat by the ceaseless clock of Time,
A voice our wisdom to evoke,

A mandate solemnly sublime;
It bids us keep the soul awake,

To do the best our means allow,
To toil for truth and virtue's sake,
And make the effort Now.

Now is the watchword of the wise,

And often wins its wondrous way
Through hosts of dangers in disguise,

That wait to baffle and betray.
The specious Then doth oft deceive,
Brings pain of heart, and gloom of brow;
But would we some good work achieve,
Let's make the effort Now.

Now gilds the banner of the brave,
And Prudence wears it on her breast;
That talisman has power to save

From vain remorse and sad unrest.
Then leads us by an easy rein,

And breaks our well-intention'd vow: But would we earn some sterling gain, Let's make the effort Now.

Then may not come,—but Now is here, All ready at our own right hand, Perhaps with aspect half austere,

Yet prompt to help, if we command: Strive with it, and its blessings fall,

Like sweet fruit from a laden bough; But we must feed on husks of gall, If we neglect the Now.

In youth, if just ambition fire,

And seem to lift the soul on wings;
If the heart glow with pure desire

For worthy and exalted things;—
Wait not, but rouse your latent power
Nor shrink your purpose to avow;
The only safe, propitious hour,
Is the fresh foremost Now.

In manhood, with our passions strong,
Oft hard to conquer or to guide,
If some insidious power of
Has drawn our faltering feet aside,—

wrong

Sorrows will come, regrets and fears
Will make the humbled spirit bow ;
But, to atone for wasted years,

Let's seek the right, and Now.

If 'mid the world's rude shock and strife,
Thou hast no sense of things divine,
No longing for the holier life,-

Oh, what a priceless loss is thine!
If thou wouldst hope, strength, comfort find,
God's oracle will teach thee how ;
Go, with a meek, inquiring mind,
And hear its voices Now.

Procrastination, foe to bliss,

Curse far more baneful than it seems, What treasure we have lost by this,

In vain and unsubstantial dreams! From this dear moment, let us start

With brave endeavour, righteous vow: Up, drooping soul! up, languid heart! And seize the golden Now!

JOHN CRITCHLEY PRINCE, 1808

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