Herald of the times. [volume] (Newport, R.I.) 1830-1846, 1839-01-03
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2 Is 30.
See that Old Man, with close -shorn pow,
Save one white lock, that wildly streams
And plays about his fnrrowed brow,
Meath which q wntry lustre CLEANS.
From eyes as yet undmmed by years,
And cheeks still hole and frosty bright,
Fen as the Northern ray that cheers,
The long and lonesome Polar night.
And look two mighty wings he wears;
Who is tn Old Man SO fresh and blythe'
An bour-glass in his hand he bears,
And leans upon a ponderous scythe.
-Tis FATHER TINE, with folded wing,
Stands leaning on his scythe to hear
The Carrier boy, who fain would sing
Farewell to the departed year.
Its sands are run-yct ere he turns
The dusty glass and glides along,
lie fingers graciously, nor spurns
My simple, moralizing song.
f" In every land, by every tongue"
The deeds old Time hath done aro told;
His havoc mourned-his victories sung
His blessings owned by young and old.
Beneath his touch tn embattled hall,
That foes and food and fire defed,
Crunblcs away to dust, with all
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its wealth and beauty, power and pride.
Cities, whose streets for many an ago
Had echoed to the trompling throng
OF generations, DER life's stage
Like oceans pillows swept along
Fen they, beneath the ruthless tread
OrTime, are changed to solitude,
And scarce a column lifts its head
To tell the traveller where they stood.
The crowds that swarmed each busy way
In chase Of pleasure or Of gain,
Have felt the touch Of cold decay,
Nor e'cn their burial stones remain.
Old Empires that had safe enthroned
On thousand hills, while far below
A sea of subject nations, moancd
And rolled uneasy to and fro-
With all their pomp and power are gone
Conquerors and conquered passed away
Proud DER the ruins Time speeds on,
Nor monarch's might his march can stay.
Yet deem not Time the foe of man,
Whose proudest works he thus lays low,
Whose life he shortens to span,
Deem not old Father Time thy foe!
What though mans beauty in the dust
Beneath his whitening touch is laid 4?
He brings world where moth nor rust
Can Ger corrupt, nor thieves invade.
What though he bids the orphan lone
Beside parents tombstone weep?
He whispers there with kindly tone,
And teaches wisdom pure and deep.
What though he steals our health away,
And wealth and friends and joys most dear
lie bids the joys that ne'er decay,
Approach with each departing year.
Then call not Father Time thy foe,
But own in him friend most true;
Needing his lessons, thou shalt know
b His kindness when thy journeys through.
Let the whole race Of men confess,
And generations as they glide,
Own each to each with thankfulness,
Time is Friend well. l.proved and tried.
Yes Heaven hath sent him from above,
A monitor Of unseen things,
And to the children Of Gods love,
He "scatters blessings from his wings"
Though cities, empires, nations fall
Beneath his touch and pass away,
Yet there is that, shall live through all
Death, desolaton and decay.
Tis Truth-'tis Gods immortal Truth,
Deep planted in the deathess soul,
Shall flourish in unwitherng youth,
AS Ger earth's wreck Times waters roll.
oiu tnIones may totteI-tSihPieo w"
And Kings and Priests to dust return,
But Truth ye, brighter on the brow
Of Heaven, the brightest star, shall burn.
My song is sung, for Father Time
Turns his old glass and hastens on,
Nor longer waits my uDcouth rhyme"
He spreads his wings and-now is gone.
Another year is past and fed
"Departed never TO return;
And many bitter tear is shed
Ger faithful memory's sacred urn.
Yet there is that which ne'er can die,
Which brightens through the fading years
1t sparkles in the generous eye,
And gilds cen sorrows gushing tears.
Tis Love, the imaged smile Of Heaven,
Gladdening the deep and deathless heart,
The noblest blessing God hath given,
| That bids each earth-born cloud depart.
Long may this gin your bosoms cheer,
And that no cloud may dim the joy
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