yield to life;
Hope to real joy ... there, purged from sins,
Serenety succeeds to grief and strife, Time flies...
Eternity begins.

In this blessed hope Sure that her Saviour will fulfill his promise,
Reposes in this Tomb, Guarded by a tender and sorrowful husband, Mary
Magdalen Waber, Born 8th August, 1723; And who departed this life on
Easter-Eve 1751, The wife of George Langhans, Preacher of the gospel
at Hindelbanck.

_Boston Mag._, I-56, Dec. 1783, Boston.

THE BACCHANALIAN.
(Translated from the German.)

The thunder rolls dreadfully through the dark sky,
To the cellar I quickly retire;
Think not that I wish from the thunder to fly;
No--'tis for the best wine to enquire.

_Universal Asylum and Columbian Mag._, IV-253, Apr. 1790, Phila.

LETTER LXI. OF THE SORROWS OF WERTER, VERSIFIED.

Though Homer fired my youthful breast,
My tender fancy deep imprest,
Ere grief had made me smart:
Yet of him Ossian has ta'en place;
His woe-fraught strains, with solemn grace,
Now occupy my heart.

To what a world of direful kind,
The Bard illustrious leads my mind,
'Midst heaths and wilds to stray;
Where the fierce whirlwinds sweep the plain;
Where the moon feebly holds her reign;
And ghosts elude the day.

To hear from off the mountains steep,
The plaintive sounds, from caverns deep,
Of water's dismal roar:
To hear the maiden's doleful cries,
That on her warrior's tomb-stone dies,
Who her did much adore.

I meet this bard of silver hair,
He wanders in the valley drear,
Whilst grief his mind consumes:
His father's footsteps tries to trace
In vain, for time does them efface;
He only finds their tombs.

The pale moon sinks, amid the waves,
He contemplates her as she laves
Her tresses in the sea:
Reflects on time for ever gone,
When danger pleased and spurred him on,
Till every foe did flee.

When he returned on evening grey,
The moon shone on his Bark of prey,
His trophies won, displayed:
When by his countenance, I find
Deep-rooted sorrow fill his mind,
That youth so soon decayed.

When I perceive that glory bright
To fade so soon, to sink in night,
And tottering to the grave:
And when around he casts an eye
On