A DROP OF DEW. SEE how the orient dew, Shed from the bosom of the morn Into the blowing roses, Yet careless of its mansion new, For the clear region where 'twas born, And in its little globe's extent Frames as it can, its native element. How it the purple flower does slight, Scarce touching where it lies! But, gazing back upon the skies, Shines with a mournful light : Like its own tear, Because so long divided from the sphere. Trembling, lest it grow impure; Till the warm sun pities its pain, And to the skies exhales it back again. So the soul, that drop, that ray, Of the clear fountain of eternal day, Could it within the human flower be seen, Remembering still its former height, Shuns the sweet leaves and blossoms green; And, recollecting its own light, Does, in its pure and circling thoughts, express The greater heaven in an heaven less. In how coy a figure wound, Every way it turns away! To the world excluding round, How girt and ready to ascend: Moving but on a point below, In all about does upwards bend. Such did the manna's sacred dew distil, HENRY MORE. HENRY MORE was born at Grantham, in Lincolnshire, in 1614. He was educated at Eton, and afterwards removed to Christ's College, Cambridge, where he studied philosophy with an ardent mind. He obtained a fellowship, and was presented to a prebend in the church of Gloucester. He died in 1687. The principal works of More are, The Mystery of Godliness, Mystery of Iniquity, Philosophical Collections. These enjoyed in his day great popularity, but they are little suited to the taste of the modern reader; yet they are enlivened with gleams of fancy, and bursts of poetic feeling, which would amply repay an attentive perusal. THE PHILOSOPHER'S DEVOTION. SING aloud, his praise rehearse Who hath made the universe; He the boundless heavens has spread, All the vital orbs has kned: He that on Olympus high Tends his flock with watchful eye; And this eye has multiplied, 'Midst each flock for to reside. Thus as round about they stray, Toucheth each with outstretched ray: Shaping out their night and day, 1 Never slack they; none respires, In due order as they move, God is good, is wise, is strong, Is confessed by every tongue All things, back from whence they sprung: What they borrowed of the sea. Now myself I do resign; Let not lust my soul bemire. Quit from these, thy praise I'll sing, Bear a part, O wisdom's sons! Freed from vain religions. Lo! from far I you salute, Sweetly warbling on my lute. India, Egypt, Araby, Asia, Greece, and Tartary; Carmel-tracts, and Lebanon, With the Mountains of the Moon, From whence muddy Nile doth run; Or, wherever else you won, EDMUND WALLER. EDMUND WALLER was born at Coleshill, in Hertfordshire, in 1605, vas educated at Eton, and afterwards removed to King's College, ambridge. He was sent to parliament at the age of eighteen, and equented the court of James I., suffered considerably during the civil ar for his attachment to the monarchy, but closed his long life in eace, at Beaconsfield, in 1687. His poetry is not of a high order, ut his sacred pieces are every way the best. THE SCRIPTURES. THE Grecian muse has all their gods survived, |