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DEATH S DOINGS.

Unhappy in thy error—know, to thee

(For thou art human) pain, and age, advance ;That blooming cheek shall fade—those bright eyessee

New beauties far outshine their waning glance,Disease on those light limbs her hand shall lay,

(That stern destroyer of Life's young romance)And Time compel thee, with the old and gray,

To take thy place in Death's terrific dance.

Ah! hope not then, that kindly pious friend

Shall soothe thy suff'ring hour with precept mild,That o'er thy couch in sympathy shall bend

The tender husband, or the sorrowing child—Far other guests on that dread scene encroach,

(No longer now neglected or revil'd)Regret, remorse, and ceaseless self-reproach,

There howl in fierce revenge their descant wild.

B. H.

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