REMNANTS OF TIME. 469 and desolation. Unhappy possessor, if he has no better in- heritance ! What are those fine and elegant gardens, those delightful walks, those gentle ascents and soft declining slopes which raise and sink the eye by turns to a thousand vegetable pleasures ? How lovely are those sweet borders, and those growing varieties of bloom and fruit which recal lost paradise to mind ? Those living parterres which regale the sense with vital fragrancy and make glad the sight by their refreshing vendure and entertain- ing flowery beauties ? The scythe of time is passing over them all ; they wither, they die away, they drop and vanish into dust ; their duration is short ; a few months deface all their yearly glories ; and within a few years perhaps all these rising terrace. walks, thèse gentle verging declivities, shall lose all order and elegance, and become a rugged heap of ruins: Those well - distinguished borders and parterres shall be levelled in con - fusion, and thrown into common earth again for the ox and the ass to graze upon them. Unhappy man, who possesses this agreeable spot of ground, if lie has no paradise more durable than this ! And no wonder that these labours of the hands of men should perish, when even the works of God are perishable. What are these visible heavens, these lower skies, and this globe of earth ! They are indeed the glorious workmanship of the Almighty ; but they are waxing old and waiting their period too, when the angel shall pronounce upon them, " That time shall be no more. The heavens shall be folded up as a vesture, the elements of the lower world shall melt with fervent heat, and the earth and all the works thereof', shall be burnt'up with fire." May the unruinable world be but my portion, and the heaven of heavens my inheritance, which is built for an eternal mansion for the sons of God': These buildings shall out-live time and nature, and exist through unknown ages of felicity. What have We mortals to be proud of in our present state, when every human glory is so fugitive and fading? Let the brightest and the best of us say to ourselves, " That we are but dust and vanity." Is my body formed upon a graceful model? Are my limbs well turned, and my complexion better colouredthan my neigh- bours ! Beauty even in perfection is of shortest date ; a few years will inform me that its bloom vanishes, its flower withers,, its lustre growé dim, its duration shall be no longer ; and if life be prolonged, yet the pride and glory of it is for ever lost in age and wrinkles ; or perhaps our vanity meets a speedier fate. Death and the grave with a sovereign and irresistible command; Summon the brightest as well as the coarsest pieces of human nature to lie down early in their cold embraces ; and at last they
RkJQdWJsaXNoZXIy OTcyMjk=