mazy path first pressed—    No care his manly strength impairing, And in his dream's sweet vision blest! The dimmest star in air's dominion Seemed not too distant for his flight; His young and ever-eager pinion Soared far beyond all mortal sight. Thus joyously toward heaven ascending, Was aught for his bright hopes too far? The airy guides his steps attending, How danced they round life's radiant car! Soft love was there, her guerdon bearing, And fortune, with her crown of gold, And fame, her starry chaplet wearing, And truth, in majesty untold. But while the goal was yet before them, The faithless guides began to stray; Impatience of their task came o'er them, Then one by one they dropped away. Light-footed Fortune first retreating, Then Wisdom's thirst remained unstilled, While heavy storms of doubt were beating Upon the path truth's radiance filled. I saw Fame's sacred wreath adorning The brows of an unworthy crew; And, ah! how soon Love's happy morning, When spring had vanished, vanished too! More silent yet, and yet more weary, Became the desert path I trod; And even hope a glimmer dreary Scarce cast upon the gloomy road. Of all that train, so bright with gladness, Oh, who is faithful to the end? Who now will seek to cheer my sadness, And to the grave my steps attend? Thou, Friendship, of all guides the fairest, Who gently healest every wound; Who all life's heavy burdens sharest, Thou, whom I early sought and found! Employment too, thy loving neighbor, Who quells the bosom's rising storms; Who ne'er grows weary of her labor, And ne'er destroys, though slow she forms; Who, though but grains of sand she places To swell eternity sublime, Yet minutes, days, ay! years effaces From the dread reckoning kept by Time! 

        THE YOUTH BY THE BROOK. 16 Beside the brook the boy reclined And wove his flowery wreath, And to the waves the wreath consigned—     The waves that danced beneath.    "So fleet mine hours," he sighed, "away Like waves that restless flow:    And so my flowers of youth decay Like those that float below."     "Ask not why I, alone on earth, Am sad in life's young time; To all the rest are hope and mirth When spring renews its prime. Alas! the music Nature makes, In thousand songs of gladness—    While charming all around me, wakes My heavy heart to sadness."     "Ah! vain to me the joys that break From spring, voluptuous are; For only one 't is mine to seek—     The near, yet ever far! I stretch my arms, that shadow-shape In fond embrace to hold; Still doth the 

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