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Some mountain's craggy steep he'll gain
The eagle's plume to bring,
One votive wreath to string:
His gallant zeal to show;
A tyrant soon he'll grow.
How oft a mystic shape he 'll wear
Some image not his own
And make the mind his throne;
But, Oh! of all his subtle schemes,
Beware, beware the toils He throws around sweet Friendship's dreams,
For hearts are then his spoils !-
His witching tale to tell;
Beware, beware his spell !
SONG OF A SUNBEAM.
I come, I come from my throne above,
With the spirit of Nature glowing, Sent on a mission of angel-love
To each leaflet and blossom growing: Welcome me, welcome me, children of earth !
Welcome me ever with gladness !I am a creature of blessing and mirth :
Summer is no time for sadness !
I've come, weary heart ! I've come to thee,
Though thou’rt sighing with toil and sorrow, To try if a ramble abroad with me
Would give thee fresh strength for the morrow ! Welcome me, welcome me, children of earth !
Welcome me ever with gladness 1I am a creature of blessing and mirth :
Summer is no time for sadness!
FOR THE TWELFTH ANNIVERSARY FESTIVAL
IN AID OF
THE ASYLUM FOR AGED AND DECAYED FREEMASONS,
Held in Freemasons' Hall, June 16, 1847,
When some grand structure, falling to decay,