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النشر الإلكتروني

POEMS BY OSANDER.

A VISION.

BY a streamlet, whose course, from a fountain, was gliding,

I cast me adown in the shade of a willow :

There, pensive, I thought on the cares, while reclining,
Of lifes chequer'd scene, so resembling the billow.

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Soon sleep, pleasant sleep,'o'er my senses had shed,
The dew which he culls from the poppy's profusion
No more I perceived the shade o'er my head,
No longer the streamlet soft murmuring confusion.

But, mentally waking, my-vision was brighten'd:
I saw, or I thought that I saw, a sweet scene ;
The light in the west by some glory, was heighten’d,
Than th' day more delightful, than morn more serene :

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Slow gliding to view, in the loveliest beautý,
A form, sweet as Heav'nly visions, appeard ;
Than cherub more smiling, than aph more
She seem'd by the finger of Deity rear'd.

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“ Pensive mortal,” she said (and she pointed above,) Seest thou not yonder bearning mansions of day! They are fitted by mercy, assisted by love, « And the wild where you wander is only th' way.”

So saying she gave me a glimpse of their glory, Then vanish’d—as, happy, from dreaming I woke.

Ah why shall we murmur, the years are too many!
Go on in the way our Redeemer has trod :
A journey of trial, 'tis filled with plenty,
If we'll trust in our maker, preserver, our God.

Soon, our pilgrimage o'er, the prospect appearing, Will be happiness, glory, and fulness of joy. Where praises may rise unmolested by fearing, Halleluiahs, forever unmix'd with alloy.

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