THE CROSS ROADS.
(For the Mirror.)
Methought upon a mountain's brow
Stood Glory, gazing round him;
And in the silent vale below
Lay Love, where Fancy found him;
While distant o'er the yellow plain
Glittering Wealth held wide domain.
Glory was robed in light; and trod
A brilliant track before him,
He gazed with ardour, like a god,
And grasp'd at heaven o'er him;
The meteor's flash his beaming eye,
The trumpet's shriek his melody.
But Love was robed in roses sweet,
And zephyrs murmur'd nigh him,
Flowers were blooming at his feet,
And birds were warbling by him:
His eyes soft radiance seem'd to wear,
For tears and smiles were blended there.
Gay Wealth a gorgeous train display'd.
(And Fancy soon espied him,)
Supine, in splendid garb array'd,
With Luxury beside him;
He dwelt beneath a lofty dome,
Which Pride and Pleasure made their home.
Well; seeking Happiness, I sped,
And, as Hope hover'd o'er me,
I ask'd which way the nymph had fled,
For four roads met before me—
Whether she'd climb'd the height above,
Or bask'd with Wealth, or slept with Love?
I paus'd—for in the lonely path,
'Neath gloomy willows weeping,
Wrapt in his shroud of sullen wrath,
The Suicide was sleeping,
A scathed yew-tree's wither'd limb,
To mark the spot, frown'd o'er him.
I wept—to think my fellow-man,
(To madness often driven,)
Pursue false Glory's phantoms, then
Lose happiness and heaven:
I wept—for oh! it seem'd to be
A mournful moral meant for me!
But lo! an aged traveller came,
By Wisdom sent to guide me,
Experience was the pilgrim's name,
And thus he seem'd to chide me—
"Fool! Happiness is gone the road
That leads to Virtue's calm abode!"