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144 SONGS FROM THE ST. LAWRENCE.
O, if aught could the obdurate spirit move,
And stir all its depths within, 'Tis the thought of that sacrifice offered in love,
To purify man from his sin.
THE BROKEN HARP.
A writer in the New-York Gazette, on visiting the tomb of Margaret Davidson, remarks, '' On one side of the pediment is sculptured the representation of a broken harp, with some appropriate lines."
That thrilling harp is broken,
"Whose numbers o'er us stole, And bade entrancing sweetness
To gush within the soul. Its melody was wakened
By a young spirit here, Till all the world was ravished,
And angels bowed to hear.
That ringing harp is broken,
And on the willow swings— A weight like death has fallen
Upon the tuneful strings; The young and lovely minstrel
Has laid her down to rest, And the sunlight falls unheeded
Above her peaceful breast.