Though thy path be thorn and briar,

Every step shall bring thee nigher

To Creation's prize;

With "Excelsior" on thy flag,

Thou shalt tread the topmost crag,

And soar into the skies.

Higher, then, and always higher,

Let thy motto be "Aspire!"

Whosoe'er thou be;

Holy liver! happy dier!

Earth's poor best, and Heaven's quire,

Are reserved for thee! +

Providential Hints.

WATCH little providences: if indeed

Or less there be, or greater, in the sight

Of Him who governs all by day and night, And sees the forest hidden in the seed:

Of all that happens take thou reverent heed,
For seen in true Religion's happier light
(Though not unknown of reason's placid creed)
All things are order'd; all by orbits move,
Having precursors, satellites, and signs,
Whereby the mind not doubtfully divines
What is the will of Him who rules above,
And takes for guidance those paternal hints

That all is well, that thou art led by Love, And in thy travel trackest old footprints. +

The Heart's Youthfulness.

As by an effort only, reckoning o'er

The fleeting years, and lives of other men, How life creeps on apace, and why and when Its changing phases should affect us more,

We guess and gather doubtingly for me,

:

(Startled at times mine equals old to see) My heart is young as ever, full of mirth

And buoyancy, too light and fresh and free
For dignities and pompous tricks of earth;
So hath it been till now,—so let it be,-

And not grow grave: thrice happy is the man

Whose spirit, feeling a Tithonic birth,

Never grows old, rejoices where it can,

And cares no more for Time than it is worta.

Fraternal Egotism.

NOT in self-seeking doth the Poet draw
From his own wells, and analyse his heart;
All men in all men bear a kindred part,

All spirits to all spirits are a law:

Whatever any mind has seen or felt,

That inner secret which in self he saw

With genial utterance to his brother dealt

Shall quicken him, and make his hardness melt,

His passion thrill, his frozen feeling thaw,

His solitude to brotherhood aspire :

So then, accuse not as of mean design

The generous fervour of poetic fire,—
Such frankness cheers, such sympathies refine,

Such noble thoughts to nobler thoughts inspire.

Calculated Comfort.

RECOLLECT, as well you may,

(You that pine and brood in sorrow)

If there's little luck to-day,

More is left to come to-morrow;

Every present grows to past

Almost while the grumbler heeds it;

But, for pleasure made to last,

Look to where the future feeds it.

Coming chances must be more,

(Reason will herself remind us,)

And all prizes crowd before

If the blanks are all behind us;

Therefore never go downcast,

But let cares sit all the lighter,

Since a dark and luckless past

Argues all the future brighter.