Sweeter to me than Life seems sweet at Death,
When the last gradual decrease of breath
Shows that the end is near — Ah, sweeter far
Than the shimmering silv'ry radiance of a star
Is to the chaste white waves so long unwed;
More dear than Heav'n is to the lonely dead,
More sweet than sunshine to the famished flow'r,
Fairer than a rainbow after a sharp shower,
Lovelier to me than Amphion's melodies,
Than rare, fine wine that soothes the soul to ease
Sweeter than all else in the world thou art,
A sacred flow'r hidden in my heart.

Love is a passion, by no rules confin'd,
The great first mover of the human mind:
Spring of our fate! it lifts the climbing will ,
Or sinks the soften'd soul, in seas of ill:
Science, truth, virtue, sweetness, glory, grace,
All are love's influence, and adorn his race;
Love, too, gives fear, despair, grief, anger, strife,
And all th' unnumber'd woes, which tempest life,

 Fir'd with a daring wish, to paint him right,
What muse shall I invoke to lend me light?
Something divine there lives in love's soft flame,

The Eternal hills are green in tropic lands,
And snowy white in temperate zones;
At seasons of the year, when nature speaks,
Most changes come, as ocean sands:

The planets and their suns betray a force
That rules o'er mighty changing time —
That time that had no beginning of day —
The time that runs its fullest course.

Almighty God is Master over all —
The crowning hills and valleys, too;
The oceans move at His eternal will,
And thus the terrestrial ball,
When nature changes from her mood to mood

A Native Legend from the Senna

So, Senhor, having spoken with the dead,
And having learned from them that he must go
Without molesting any of the men
Of giant size and strength incredible
That he might meet, he took his magic knife,
And, cold and gloomy as his manner was,
He turn'd his steps to Senna of the East;—
With this long-known intent: that he would cut
A channel through the swamp that bound his town
And kept his people stricken with disease
And all the ills that haunt a marshy place.

Slow-rising night had her black flag unfurl'd ,
And spread her sooty mantle o'er the world;
The waning moon shed pale, a sickly light,
And stars scarce twinkled , to th' enquiring sight .
Half the lost earth, by darkness, over-run,
Wept , in cold dews, the absence of the sun .
The waves were hush'd; the winds forgot to roar,
And storms , detach'd, in breezes, cours'd the shoar .
Now back'ning, aweful, nerv'd, erect, serene,
Asserted musick swells her heighten'd mien .
Fearless, with face oblique, her formful hand

When time shall cease, in moving hour,
And Nature's laws revert to plan,
The beasts and insects, with the flower,
Shall pass in order with vile man.

The sinners will, in grouping file,
In human Autumn's ordered spell,
Go speeding on in mournful style,
Right to the flooded gates of Hell.

With wonder and amazement then,
The rich will look upon the poor;
But none shall be the same old men
Who often closed the Saviour's door.

By sins and virtues firm, each one
Shall have his rightful final pay;

When Afric's sun was setting fast
The Prophets told the tale,
But Psalmists said she'd win at last
And pass beyond the vale. Chorus:

Come sing the song of Afric's love
The love of God so dear,
The Father great in realms above,
The greatest when so near.

The day has come for us to see
The glory of our name,
The hour of our jubilee
Will crown our greatest fame.

The fight is on to-day,
The glory is at hand;
No more must we delay,
But join the marching band. Chorus:

The field is ever open,
For those of courage great,
For Heav'n has sent its token,
So march to glorious fate.

The Prophets told us when
The time would come to speak,
And through the greatest men
God's help, in faith, to seek.

Throughout the live long day,

Round and round the Negro goes,
Looking for a place of rest,
Nowhere can he find the place,
Till he joins the army West.

This is due to lack of mind,
Mind, without a will that counts;
Let the Negro think as man,
Then for him there is no doubts.

Art angry Jonah 'cause God gracious is
And merciful to Nineveh ? is this
Thy charity that thou hadst rather see
Thousands of people perish, then to be
Deem'd a false prophet? wouldst thou have thy Lord
Deny Himself to justifie thy word?
Nor spare the penitent, since thou hast said,
Yet forty dayes and Nineveh's destroid?
Not so; forbear thy passion, curb thine ire,
Let God be true and every man a lyar.
It cruelty, not jnstice were, if them
Who have repented, once God should condemn.
God is as just as merciful, when He