brute.
O solitude! where are the charms
That sages have seen in thy face?
Better dwell in the midst of alarms
Than reign in this horrible place.
I am out of humanity's reach,
I must finish my journey alone,
Never hear the sweet music of speech,--
I start at the sound of my own.

[Illustration]

The beasts, that roam over the plain,
My form with indifference see,
They are so unacquainted with man,
Their tameness is shocking to me.

[Illustration]

Society, friendship, and love,
Divinely bestowed upon man,
O had I the wings of a dove.
How soon would I taste you again!
My sorrows I then might assuage
In the ways of religion and truth,
Might learn from the wisdom of age,
And be cheered by the sallies of youth.

Religion! what treasure untold
Resides in that heavenly word!
More precious than silver or gold,
Or all that this earth can afford.
But the sound of the church-going bell
These valleys and rocks never heard,
Ne'er sighed at the sound of a knell,
Or smiled when a Sabbath appeared.

Ye winds, that have made me your sport,
Convey to this desolate shore
Some cordial endearing report,
Of a land I shall visit no more.
My friends, do they now and then send
A wish or a thought after me?
O tell me I yet have a friend,
Though a friend I am never to see.

[Illustration]

How fleet is a glance of the mind!
Compared with the speed of its flight,
The tempest itself lags behind,
And the swift-winged arrows of light.
When I think of my own native land,
In a moment I seem to be there;
But, alas! recollection, at hand,
Soon hurries me back to despair.

But the sea-fowl is gone to her nest.
The beast is laid down in his lair,
Even here is a season of rest,
And I to my cabin repair.
There is mercy in every place;
And mercy, encouraging thought!
Gives even affliction a grace,
And reconciles man to his lot.

[Illustration]

DON'T KILL THE BIRDS.

[Illustration: D]

Don't kill the birds!--the little birds,
That sing about your door,
soon as the joyous spring has come,
And chilling storms are o'er.

The little birds!--how sweet they sing!
O! let them joyous live;
And do not seek to take their life,
Which you can never give.

Don't kill the birds!--the pretty birds
That play among the trees!
'T would