THE

YOUTH'S INSTRUCTER

AND

GUARDIAN.

No. 194.] FEBRUARY, 1833. [VOL. XVII.

CORFU.

(With an Engraving.)

THE Ionian Isles, forming the republic of the Ionian States, are seven in number; of which the capital is Corfu, the ancient Corcyra. By other names it appears the island has also been called, as Dressanum and Pheacia. Homer gives a description of the island in his Odyssey, where Ulysses's visit to the court of Alcinous is so interestingly described; and there is a rock still pointed out to travellers, bearing the name of the Ship of Ulysses. Corfu, with the other islands, has often changed masters. In very ancient times there was a King whose dominion extended only over the isle itself. The particulars connected with some transactions of remote ages may be found in Herodotus, Diodorus, Thucydides, Plutarch, and others. By these writers it is discovered, that the King of Corfu took his part in the wars which deluged the world from four hundred years before the Christian era, until the time when Rome subdued the whole of the known world. The isles, however, were but as spots in the map of her extended conquest; yet in the civil war between Pompey and Cæsar, Corfu took a conspicuous part, adhering to the cause of the former.

Christianity, it is said, was introduced into Corfu about the year 43, by Sosipater and Jason, two disciples of St. Paul, who preached the Gospel with success, and built a

affliction she had to sustain, she was invariably supported by the consolations of religion. Her religious friends always found communion with her in her sickness to be profitable; and even her medical attendant, though professedly a stranger to experimental religion, still speaks in the strongest terms of the pleasure he felt on always finding her so resigned and happy.

Without attempting to repeat the many and various expressions of confidence and joyful hope which dropped from her lips, suffice it to say, that God supported her in her dying hour, and her dying hour brought glory to God. At length exhausted nature sunk beneath its weight, and her soul departed to be with Christ in the regions of unmixed delight.

H. V. OLVER.

POETRY.

THE DEATH-BED OF THE JUST.

SAVED by agonizing prayer,

Through the great Redeemer's blood;

Guardian angels kindly bear,

Bear the spirit to its God!

Soothe the last, the parting strife,

Minister of love divine!

Ope the gates of endless life;

Round let gleams of glory shine!

Blest the dead, the dying blest,
Who in Jesu's arms repose;
They partake celestial rest,
'Mid dissolving nature's throes.

Gales of Paradise blow round;
Angels chant the solemn lay;
Soft the words, and sweet the sound,
Happy spirit, come away!

Soul beloved, adieu, adieu!

Thine the bliss, but mine the pain:

Here we die to live anew;

Now we part to meet again.

THE MARTYR.

BY CHARLOTTE ELIZABETH.

DYED in his life-blood's crimson stain,
The martyr's robe is rich and bright;
But ere a glorious rest he gain,

The Saviour's blood must make it white.

O not of works! No boast of man

In heaven's high courts can find a place;

Of grace alone salvation's plan;

It is not that they dared to die:
The world can show her martyrs too;
Pride oft hath framed a specious lie,
And led her wretched votary through.

It is because the deep-struck root
Bore on its stem a large increase;
And richly fed the ripening fruit,
In righteousness, and joy, and peace.

Safe from the world's delusive snare,
Untainted by her noxious breath;
One Lord, one faith, one hope, they share,
And welcome sorrow, pain, or death.

Taught to abound, no treasures lure
Their steadfast soul from Jesu's love;
And taught to suffer, they endure,
As gazing on their crown above.

Be ours the crown, be ours the cross,
Let Christ impart his grace divine;
And scorn'd be all the idle dross

That glitters in an earthly mine.

The Spirit shall his will declare,

And guide our steps to seek his ways: We'll watch our time, in faith and prayer, Then pass eternity in praise.

TRUTHS.

"In the midst of life we are in death."

I SAW an infant on its mother's breast,
Laughing at novel life. Its playful hair
In golden ringlets wander'd, o'er a face
Blooming with roses. Care's uncivil hand
Had furrow'd no deep lines of anguish there.
First born, how lovely in a parent's eye;
How sacred to the best of purposes;

How pray'd for, hoped for! But I look'd again.
One short convulsive quiver of the frame,
One deep, last sigh, one glassy look of death,
And life's young, tender spring had ceased to flow;
The harp-string broken, and the sound was gone,
All its mysterious harmony destroy'd;
The unfurl'd bud frost-bitten, and it droop'd;

I saw a noble youth in life's glad morn;
As the tall palm-tree, that outspreads its wings
On Niger's banks, and gladdens all around,—
That youth was graceful; Genius lit his eye;
Deep learning sat upon his brow sublime;
And nature's total power seem'd spent on him.
How proud his mother's glance when he was near!
Her hope in widowhood; her joy in grief;
Her last fair tie to earth: and then the thought
That pure religion ruled his holy breast,
Without a rival,-how did that delight
And thrill her soul with gratitude and joy!
I look'd again :-disease's fever-flash
Had shrivell'd his fair form; the eye that erst
Beam'd beauty, and shot forth the living fire
Of mind, was dim and motionless. He seem'd
A wreck the tiniest wavelet might dissolve;
A lamp that quiver'd with a last dull ray;
A fitful shadow thrown by meteor light,
In the same moment born and perishing.

The horned moon saw that bright youth in health,
And in full orb shone on his lowly grave.

How peaceful and how calm!

As ye have sown,
Jehovah, God,

So shall ye also reap.
Will He be mock'd? Will He endure to see
His promises despised, his judgments scorn'd?-
In life's gay midst, when all seems beautiful;
When hope would picture many days of joy,
And, whispering temptation, in the ear

Its wily tale of long to-morrow pour;

When friends are numerous; when heart-loved things-
Glory and honour, pleasure and delight,

Fame, riches, happiness-around thee throng;

Then, ever-living spirit, then beware!

A God-forgotten's thunder-clouds of ire

May lower around thee, and the winged flash
Of instant death thy hour of mercy close,

Thy earth-probation terminate, and ope to thee
A long eternity of untold woe.

London, 1830.

DIDYMUS SECUNDUS.

ADDRESS TO A FRIEND ON HIS BIRTH-DAY.

THOUGH SOME may give the things of earth

To pledge their friendship true;

Or lead thee forth to scenes of mirth,

And ope before thy view

Earth's gilded toys, its fancied joys,

I weave a wreath of fadeless flowers,
Which bloom, but ne'er decay;

And seek to' improve the passing hours,
That swiftly flee away;

And lead thy mind to joys refined,

And ask of thee awhile to leave all earthly things behind.

Though feeble be my lays, and weak

The warblings of my lyre;

Yet still a higher theme I seek,

To holier things aspire:

To higher bliss, more solid peace,

That shall exist when earthly things and earthly pleasures cease.

I lead thee to devotion's shrine,

And bid thee bow the knee

Before the Lord, thy God,-and mine.
His presence go with thee,

And guide thee still, till thou fulfil

Whate'er shall be according to his holy righteous will.

And since it is thy natal day,
Then own his guiding power;
Acknowledge him thine only stay
Unto the present hour.

And ask his grace to seek his face,

Till thou shalt leave this earth, and gain his holy dwelling-place.

And while the year rolls swift along

Which brings again the day,

O join thou not the hosts that throng
Destruction's broader way:

But join the few, to Jesus true,

Who have, while here they but sojourn, "a better land" in view.

Oft may thy natal day return,

And bring unmix'd delight;

And may thy sun on its glad morn

Dispel the shades of night;
And may its ray enlight thy way

To where enjoyment never cloys,-to realms of endless day.

HUMILITY.

R. A. WEST.

HUMILITY, the loveliest flower

That bloom'd in Paradise, the first that died,

Has rarely blossom'd since in mortal soil.

It is so frail and delicate a thing,

'Tis gone if it but looks upon itself:
And she who ventures to believe it hers,