Nor yet "the ashes of the urn"

Approval of my notes return,

Yielding to this lone heart of mine,

That which had charm'd it most from thine

Yet shall thy worth and memory live,

With those who well a tear may give

To wet thy grave-turf, and each scene
Where thou in other times hast been.-
Away-away! the heart will cling
To that which joy can never bring;
Yet if the earth be full of grief,

The scene of tears yields best relief,
And often thus I'll come, and claim

The boon that wilder woes can tame;
Through years-even till this form and heart
Be deeply peaceful as thou art.

Farewell-and may thy sleep be sweet,

Till thou and thine again shall meet,

When immortality shall bring

Thy faith's fulfilment on its wing,

And man, beyond death's dark abode,

Live in the radiance of his God!

LAMENT FOR AARON.

And when all the congregation saw that Aaron was dead, they mourned for Aaron thirty days, even all the house of Israel. -Numb. xx. 29.

OUR tears on the sand, and our sighs on the wind,

And wailings far borne to the rock and the plain, We mourn for the friend who has left us behind, Nor returns to the land of the living again.

'Mid the dust of the desert, all humble and low, And weary of heart, and unbless'd with a home, The voice of our sorrow we may not forego,

Till all shall have died that are destined to roam.

The kindness with which he his brethren could love, Was more than the kindness they ever shall know,

While the sun holds his path in the heavens above, And the breezes their course o'er the nations

below.

He cherish'd our hearts when he bore the command, Nor chode our delay when we fled to the springs, In the days of our bondage in Egypt's strange land, When rearing the temples and tombs of the kings.

He fail'd not the sigh of our sorrows to mark,

Nor to shed the deep tear for the woe that we felt, While thus, 'mid our pilgrimage weary and dark, We sigh'd for the land where our forefathers dwelt.

Nor mute were his lips when the weak were dismay'd,

Or evil was nursed our encampments within; His pleading the plagues from our borders convey'd,

And the wrath which Jehovah awarded for sin.

And when he should go to his rest with the dead, How painful the sight in all Israel's eye, Bedimm'd with the tear-drops of sorrow it shed, As they led him away to the mountain to die.

His footsteps were feeble, his locks long and grey, As they glow'd in the sunbeam or waved in the

wind,

Yet he seem'd not to sigh for his native decay,
But for those who were left in the desert behind.

The God of our fathers had told of his fall,

And great was his spirit, and holy, and just, And boldly resign'd to the voice of the call

Which warn'd him away to his home in the dust.

They took off the robes that so long he had worn In the station which Heaven ordain'd him to hold; We saw his own son and his brother return,

And we knew that the heart of the kind had grown

cold.

Then lifted all Israel its voice up, and wept

Till the grey rocks of Hor sent our wailings again, But they could not awaken the ashes that slept,

In the land of the stranger for aye to remain.