THE SOLITARY.

Aweary of his worldly life,
The tempter to elude,
The hermit flies from work and strife
To desert solitude.
But there, alas! finds no repose
From Fancy's Comus crew,
Since dream he must, where'er he goes,
With nothing else to do.
Would'st drive such imps from heart and brain,
Take, then, the ancient way,
Prescribed in many a holy strain,
And work as well as pray.

THE GOLDEN MEAN.

All inaccessible a Tree arose
Amid the shining mountains of Cathay,
Its head was capp'd with numbing mists and snows,
Around its root a fiery whirlpool lay;
But midway 'twixt the furnace and the cloud
Bright fruits were by the keen-eyed watchers seen;
"There," cried the sage to the excited crowd,
"Behold the treasures of the Golden Mean."
Then girt he some with wings, and won to skill
Through many a fall between the earth and sun,
The wings bore names—th' indomitable Will,
And Faith—by these the glorious prize they won.