God!
And long, oh! long, and weary long,
Ere she had learned to feel
That Love, unselfish, deep, and strong,
Repays its own wild zeal.

Bright Hesperus! who on the eyes
Of Milton poured thy brightest ray!
Effulgent dweller of the skies,
Take not from me thy light away--
I look on thee, and I recall
The dreams of by-gone years--
O'er many a hope I lay the pall
With its becoming tears;

Yet turn to thee with thy full beam,
And bless thee, Oh love-giving star!
For life's sweet, sad, illusive dream
Fruition, though in Heaven afar--
"A silver lining" hath the cloud
Through dark and stormiest night,
And there are eyes to pierce the shroud
And see the hidden light.

Thou movest side by side with Jove,
And, 'tis a quaint conceit, perchance--
Thou seem'st in humid light to move
As tears concealed thy burning glance--
Such Virgil saw thee, when thine eyes,
More lovely through their glow,[2]
Won from the Thunderer of the skies
An accent soft and low.

And Mars is there with his red beams,
Tumultuous, earnest, unsubdued--
And silver-footed Dian gleams
Faint as when she, on Latmos stood--
God help the child! such night brought forth
When Love to Power appeals,
And strong-willed Mars at frozen north
Beside Diana steals.

BROOKLYN, August, 1850.

[Footnote 2: "Lachrymis oculos effusa nitentes."]

* * * * *

FRIENDSHIP.

How oft the burdened heart would sink
In fathomless despair
But for an angel on the brink--
In mercy standing there:
An angel bright with heavenly light--
And born of loftiest skies,
Who shows her face to mortal race,
In Friendship's holy guise.

Upon the brink of dark despair,
With smiling face she stands;
And to the victim shrinking there,
Outspreads her eager hands:
In accents low that sweetly flow
To his awakening ear,
She woos him back--his deathward track.
Toward Hope's effulgent sphere.

Sweet Friendship! let me daily give
Thanks to my God for thee!
Without thy smiles t'were death to live,
And joy to cease to be:
Oh, bitterest drop in woe's full cup--
To have no friend in need!
To struggle on, with grief alone--
Were agony indeed!

August. WILLIAM C. RICHARDS.

* * * * *

THE BALANCE OF LIFE.

All daring sympathy--clear-sighte