Where all was dark, and drear, and wild,
Nor pleasures in prospective smiled.

'Tis like the smile that beams through tears,
When hope usurps the place of fears;
Like health, new sparkling in the eye
Of him, whom friends gave up to die.

Faint emblem of the glory shed
Around the dying christian's bed,
That prelude to the dazzling light
Which bursts on his enraptured sight,
When the freed spirit soars above,
And faith is swallowed up in love.




LEWISTON,

AS IT WAS, AND AS IT IS.

It was a wild, sequestered spot,
With here and there a humble cot;
Yet, nature's richest robes were thrown
Around those hills and valleys lone.
'Twas quiet, fair, and lovely, then,
Though beasts of prey and savage men
Roamed o'er those hills of graceful form,
Whose trees for ages braved the storm,