VII.
Oh, what is yesterday?—a ray
Which burst on being's troubled wave;
Which passed like a swift thought away
Unto eternity's wide grave!
A star whose light hath left the sky—
But for a little moment given;
Scarce gleaming on the gladdened eye,
Ere it hath left the vault of heaven!
VIII.
To-day!—how in its little span
The interests of an endless state,
Beyond the feverish life of man,
Are crowded with their awful weight!
Prayers may ascend—the soul may pour
Its trembling supplications here,
That when time's fitful hour is o'er,
Its hopes of heaven may blossom there.
Philadelphia.W.G.C.
[EDITING AND OTHER MATTERS.]
A CHAPTER FROM AN UNPUBLISHED VOLUME.
The 'Literary Gazette' created a great sensation. Frank was congratulated by his friends on the excellence of his hebdomadal. His editorial brethren bestowed liberal commendation; and he was bespattered with praise, where he expected to be flattered by criticism. To be sure, there were some croakers, who thought it a little too light, and some blithe hearts thought it a little too heavy; but generally, great satisfaction was expressed with its contents. Subscribers flocked in, and every thing went on swimmingly.
But however lightly Frank's bark danced at first, he soon found that there were clouds, storms, and rough waters, to be encountered, as well as sunshine and soft winds. An author whom he reviewed with deserved severity, was sure to regard what was said as an emanation of jealousy. Rejected fi'penny rhymists reported him unfriendly to the 'infantile efforts of genius.' Bilious moralists condemned him for what their evil-seeking imaginations tortured into profligacy. In this way, his judgment and goodness of heart were underrated; and although he won more smiles than frowns, yet he sighed when he thought of the goodness of his motives, and the abominable constructions which were frequently put upon them.