Were counted and resign'd? that eloquence
So fondly urging those whose hearts were full
Of sublunary happiness, to seek
A better portion? Whence that voice of joy,
Which from the marble lip in life's last strife
Burst forth, to hail her everlasting home?
—Cold reasoners! be convinced. And when ye stand
Where that fair brow and those unfrosted locks
Return to dust,—where the young sleeper waits
The resurrection morn,—Oh! lift the heart
In praise to Him, who gave the victory.
ON A QUESTION PROPOSED
AT THE INSTITUTION OF THE ABBA SICARD, IN PARIS,"LES SOURDS-MUETS SE TROUVENT-ILS MALHERVREUX?"
Addressed to an interesting and intelligent little girl, deprived of the powers of speech and hearing.
Oh! could the kind inquirer gaze
Upon thy brow with gladness fraught,
Its smile, like inspiration's rays,
Would give the answer to his thought.—
And could he see thy sportive grace
Soft blending with submission due,—
Or note thy bosom's tenderness
To every just emotion true;—
Or when some new idea glows,
On the pure altar of the mind,
Observe the exulting tear that flows
In silent ecstacy refined;—
