LIFE. * [The following exquisite piece is from the pen of Francis Beaumont, the coadjutor of Fletcher in the composition of dramas, second only in our language to those of Shakspear. Beaumont was no mean star in that bright galaxy of talent which o'erarched the Elizabethan court. These Lines derive an additional and mournful significancy from the fact, that the gifted author's "star was shot," before he attained the age of thirty.] LIKE to the falling of a star, Or as the flights of eagles are, E'en such is man, whose borrowed light EARLY TO BED AND EARLY TO RISE. Aye, note it down in your brain, Ye who are walking on thorns of care, Try what can be done in the morning sun, Full many a day for ever is lost By delaying its work till to-morrow; Long years of bootless sorrow. * These Lines, which have been parodied more frequently perhaps than any others in our language, will no doubt be familiar to most of our readers. We have ourselves seen some dozen versions of the poem, ascribed to as many different authors; but we have much pleasure in reprinting the above lines, as our correspondent refers them without doubt to their legitimate source; and it is well at once to cry "Stop Thief" to all imitators and plagiarists. ED. And ye, who win the lasting wealth Ye who would couple labour and health, Nature herself ever shows her best When the spangles of light on earth's green breast If we love the purest pearl of the dew, And the richest breath of the flower; If our spirits would greet the fresh and the sweet, Oh! pleasure and rest are more easily found To sum up our figures or plough up our ground, The eye looketh bright and the heart keepeth light, When ready and brave he claims Time as his slave, 66 By the help of the early hour!* Early to bed and early to rise," That you may have time to pray; Seek blessings for all the day. There are many who greet the morning light In healthful, joyous glec, Who are in eternity ere 'tis night, And it may be so with THEE! The purest and best who ere trod our earth While slumbers wrapt the sons of mirth He ascends the Mount to pray. *The preceding verses, we owe to one of the most popular authoresses of our day-Eliza Cook. To the editress of the "Mothers' Friend," a Magazine well deserving the title, published by Mr. B. L. Green, we are indebted for those which follow, and which are thus modestly prefaced in the work referred to. "We do exceedingly like these lines, and advise mothers to teach them to their children, and enter into the spirit of them themselves, but we must be allowed to add a little to them."-ED. Ere the wings of light had chased the night, He pleads with the God of love, And now as a victor, with zeal and might, And can a mother prolong her rest And does she profess to follow him Does she think it safe, in this world of sin, "LET HIM ALONE.” (Hosea iv. 17.) "LET Him alone!" Oh Lord! on me Ne'er send that awful, dire decree; As coming from a Father-God. Under sorrows deep and strong, Thou chast'nest whom thou lovest, Lord, Go and enjoy thy fleeting years, Secure thy Spring ere Autumn sears; Nay, rather, let me bear the cross, When I breathe the suffering sigh, When I to myself am left, But dearest Saviour-Leave me not. THE CHILD AND THE STAR. SHE had been told that God made all the stars Filled her young heart with gladness, and the eve N. P. Willis. |