AN ORCHARD SCENE.

MAY 1811.

FRAGRANT breathes the op'ning blossom;

Lightly hum the sipping bees;

Round me flits the insect-wanderer,

Sporting, beauteous, in the breeze.

Hark! melodious swell the songsters,

Sweet attuning grateful love

Praise from nature flows abundant;

Praises flow from every grove.

Songster, was it nature taught you,

Is it instinct I admire ?

Does a spark of true devotion

Make you join the Heav'nly choir ?

Ha, I see them, mental viewing;

Harps melodious blissful sing!

Round the throne they glide rejoicing:

Praise of Innocence they bring.

Ah how pure their robes are flowing,

Wash'd in their Redeemer's blood

Praising soft, in songs rejoicing,

Him who pour'd the chrystal flood.

Come-Oh, give my longing vision
Strength to view without alloy,
Saviour haste the happy season,
I may bliss so pure enjoy.

But no murmur-time in gliding
Will the hour delightful bring,

When, with souls departed shining,
I may sweetly praises sing..

Ye who love on couch to languish, Ye who pine at luxury's board, Come and ease your listless anguish,

Mark what joy the fields afford.

Shall I trace you little warbler,

Ask him where he learnt to sing-

Hark! that sweet melodious swelling,

Answers" of Creation's King."

See the grass, by zephyr ruffled,
Verdant mingling in the breeze-
Soft confusion mid it wanders,
Gliding thence to sleeping trees.

There like pearly dew drops hanging, Blossoms smile with sheltering leaves; As the joys of life uncertain,

-Scattering with the passing breeze.

SOME stoick minds may, perhaps, smile at the affection herein expressed for a beloved parent-but it is not to them I write The hope of meeting friends after death is, to me, the sweetest solace of this earthly pilgrimage.

MY MOTHER.

COME to my bosom blissful thought,
For thou hast now explor'd the scene,
Whence are our comforts daily brought-

The scene where dwells my mother.

Oh might you yet appear again,

To him whose tears your grave have steep'd.

But no-I'll waiting here remain,

And meet upon the eternal deep.

There sailing when my little bark,
Shall gladly, happy, glide along,
Do you the coming vessel mark,
And swiftly fly to meet your son.

Come then oh death and aid my flight,
When God shall bid you hasten on;
Till then I'd calmly, calmly, wait,

A parent lov'd to meet her Son.

But thought, why longer do you tarry,
Why hasten not to bring me word!
My heart with expectation 's weary;
Oh haste this comfort gracious LORD!

You come-now what have you explor❜d? "I've pass'd within the glorious scené, "(Faith help'd me on the way so hard) "I've wing'd along the eternal green,

"Where happiness and praises dwell,

"Where Halleluiahs float around,

"From those whose robes accorded well, "With the sweet melody of sound.

"I saw your inother-there she sung, "Amid the soft seraphick crowd