by her biographer as it was probably amended by the 'cultivated
taste of later years,' now lies before me as it was first written; and
the improved copy, though greatly superior in beauty to the first, seems
to me to lack the vigor and energy, which more than atone for the many
blemishes of the other. Our readers shall judge. We insert the
_childish_ composition; the other is to be found in her graceful memoir
by 'Fanny Forrester.' She calls it "a Versification of David's lament
over Saul and Jonathan."

The 'beauty of Israel' forever is fled,
And low lie the noble and strong;
Ye daughters of music encircle the dead,
And chant the funereal song.

O never let Gath know their sorrowful doom,
Nor Askelon hear of their fate;
Their daughters would scoff while we lay in the tomb,
The relics of Israel's great.

As strong as young lions were they in the field;
Like eagles they never knew fear;
As dark autumn clouds were the studs of their shield,
And swifter than wind flew their spear.

My brother, my friend, must I bid _thee_ adieu!
Ah yes, I behold thy deep wound--
Thy bosom, once warm as my tears that fast flow,
Is colder than yonder clay mound.

Ye mountains of Gilboa, never may dew
Descend on your verdure so green;
Loud thunder may roar, and fierce lightning may glow
But never let showers be seen.

Your verdure may scorch in the bright blazing sun,
The night-blast may level your wood;
For beneath it, unhallowed, were broken and thrown
The arms of the chosen of God.

Ye daughters of Israel, snatch from your brow
Those garlands of eglantine fair;
Let cypress and nightshade, the emblems of woe.
Be wreathed in your beautiful hair.

Approach, and with sadness encircle the dead
And chant the funereal song--
The 'beauty of Israel' forever is fled,
And low lie the noble and strong.

Some other effusions, probably of a later date, we will here insert,
not only for their merit, but to show what those powers were which she
sacrificed, when she turned from the cultivation of her fancy to that of
her higher and nobler faculties.

ENCAMPMENT OF ISRAELITES AT ELIM.

"Slowly and sadly, through the desert waste,
The fainting tribes their dreary pathway traced;
Far as the eye could reach th' horizon round,
Did one vast sea of sand the vision