422 TRIBUTARY VERSES. 



But now secure on happier shores, 

 AVith clioirs of sainted souls he sings ; 



His havp th' Omnipotent adores, 

 And fro-m its sweet, its silver strings 



Celestial music pours. 



And though on earth no more hell weave 

 The lay that's fraught with magic fire, 



Yet oft shall fancy hear at eve 

 His now exalted, heavenly lyre 



In sounds ^olian grieve. 



B. Stoke. 



Jirv-ENI5. 



REFLECTIOXS, 

 On reading the Life of the late henry Kirhe White. 



Bl WILLIAM HOLLOWAY, AUTHOR OF "THE PEASANT'S FATE. 



Darltxg of science and the Muse, 

 How shall a son of song refuse 



To shed a tear for thee ? 

 To us so soon, for ever lost, 

 "NVhat hopes, what prospects have been cross'd 



By Heaven's supreme decree ? 



How could a parent, love-beguiled, 

 In life's fair prime resign a child 



So duteous, good, and kind ? 

 The warblers of the soothing strain 

 Must string the eleg-iac lyre in vain 



To soothe the wounded mind ! 



Yet Fancy, hov'ring round the tomb, 

 Half enWes, while she mourns, thy doom, 



Dear poet, saint, and sage ! 

 "VMi'j into one short span, at best. 

 The wisdom of an age comprest, 



A patriarch's lengthen'd age ! 



To him a genius sanctified, 

 And purged from literary pride, 

 A sacred boon was given ; 



