288 'i'ha Death Bed. [March, 



Had tremiblcd with the agitating thrill 

 Of stern conflicting pangs, and felt the glow 



Of vivid hope, and the alternate chill, 



Of freezing doubts? — and lastly learnt to know 



The certainty of all her wildest fears 



Scarce dared to ioiage — was too great for tears. 



Slje had been one who had too deeply loved 



An earthly object, and on this false die. 

 Like a rash gamester, staked her all, and proved 



The blindness, yea, the utter vanity 

 Of those too ardent feelings, which had moved 

 Her to exalt in secret rivalry 

 ; 'Gainst heaven itself, the idol who possessed 



The unreserved devotion of her breast. 



He failed her— as all mortal trusts will fail 



Those whose reliance is so fondly placed 

 On them, as her's was. One light, envious talc, 



Heard from unworthy lips, in sooth, effaced 

 The love o_f years: — as the first wanton gale 



Destroys the characters unwisely traced 

 On treacherous sand, and as its breath sweeps o'er. 

 They fade before it, and return no more. 



The truth came o'er her like a sudden blow. 

 That crushes into numbness every sense. 

 Even of its smart ; and tears refused to flow, 

 rf In the keen agony and pangs intense 



That followed this irremediable woe. 



Her heart grew cold ; and though she tore froni thence 

 His worshipped image, yet the bitter strife 

 Sapped the internal principles of life. 



From day to day she faded, like some flower 



On which untimely blights are withering shed ; . 



Whose bosom meets tthe sunbeam and the shower. 

 Reckless of both — the charm of life had fled, , 



She felt, for ever — yet in that dark hour. 

 The day-spring from on high had visited 



Her long benighted spirit, and the dew 



Of peace descended — Peace divine and true. 



Yea, the dense mists that had obscured her sight 

 Vanished beneath its influence ; and her soul, 



In the first dawn of that celestial light. 

 Beheld the clouds of mortal sorows roll 



For ever fl-om her, and the stormy night 

 Of earthly passions in their vain control. 



Bound her no longer, and her closing eyes 



Looked through the shades of death and endless extasies. 



A. S. 



To the Editor of tlie Monthly Magazine. 



Sir: — You have been imposed on by somebody who has used my name 

 without my authority. I never wrote the letter of " Advice to the Clergy," 

 published in your Magazine of January. Sydney Smith. 



The Editor, in justice to his contributor, is bound to say, that the above only 

 ■positively applies to the prose paragraphs. The admirable witty lines which 

 conclude that article are to be attributed to. anybody the reader pleases. 

 Perhaps Mr. Smith may hereafter charitably acknowledge them. 



