Poems, Sacred and Moral

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<>CONSCIENCE. "There—lie for ever there"—the Murderer said; And prest his Heel contemptuous on the dead.

POEMS,

SACRED AND MORAL.

Conscience

POEMS,

SACRED AND MORAL.

CONSCIENCE.

"There—lie for ever there" the Murderer said; And prest his heel contemptuous on the dead— "No terrors haunt the well-concerting mind! "Vengeance my aim, thy gold I leave behind: "Clutch'd in thy grasp be thy own knife survey'd— "Thus—so may death self-sought thy name degrade! "My steel, that did the deed, this lake shall hide— "Hence—rust beneath the all-concealing tide—

"The long descent these mounting bubbles tell— "Down; down—still deeper—to the fancied Hell. "But why this needless care?—The wretch unknown— "My garment bloodless—no man heard him groan— "Nor He, the fabled Monarch of the skies—" He spoke, and fix'd on heaven his iron eyes.

No terrors haunt the well-concerting mind!— Say'st thou, when March unchains the midnight wind? When the full blast, as Alp-descending Po Whirls through the rocky streight the liquid snow, Down the vale driving with resistless course, Pours on thy walls its congregated force; When tottering chimnies bellow o'er thy head, And the floor quakes beneath thy sleepless bed?

No terrors haunt thee!—Say'st thou, when the storm Bids all its horrors, each in wildest form, From adverse climes on wings of thunder haste, And close around thee on the naked waste:

Bids at each flash untimely night retire, And opes and shuts the living vault of fire: When from each bursting cloud the arrowy flame Seems at thy central breast to point its aim; While crash on crash redoubles from on high, As though the shatter'd fabric of the sky Were hurl'd in hideous ruin through the air, To whelm the guilty wretch whom lightnings spare?

No terrors haunt thee!—Lo, 'tis Winter's reign: His broad hand, plunging in the Atlantic main, Lifts into mountain piles the boiling deep, And bounds with vales of death each billowy steep. Now, when thy bark, the dire ascent surpast, Turns to the black abyss the downward mast; In that dread pause, while yet the dizzy prow Poised on the verge o'erhangs the gulph below; Now press thy conscious bosom, and declare If guilt has raised no throbs of terror there.

Still art thou proof?—In sleep I see thee laid: Dreams by the past inspired thy sleep invade. Houseless and drear a plain expands in view: There travels one like him thy fury slew: Couch'd in the brake, a ruffian from his den Starts forth, and acts thy bloody deed again: Like thine his mien, like thine his iron stare Fix'd in defiance on the vault of air. Lo, as secure he quits the unplunder'd dead, Wide-weltering seas of fire before him spread: With frenzied step he hurries to the shore, Shrieks, plunges headlong, and is seen no more!

Thou wak'st, and smil'st in scorn!—Has Heaven no dart Potent to reach that adamantine heart? Yes. He, whose viewless gales the forest bend, Whose feeblest means attain the mightiest end, Touches the secret spring that opes the cell Where Conscience lurks, and slumbering horrors dwell.

Lo, as the wretch his careless path pursues, Struck by his foot a rusted knife he views. In thought the blade conceal'd from mortal eyes Beneath the lake his troubled soul descries. In wild dismay his clouded senses swim; Cold streams of terror bathe each shivering limb: Then with new fires in every nerve he burns; To earth, to heaven, each flashing eyeball turns; Buries with frantic hand the avenging knife Deep in his breast, and renders life for life.

Futurity

FUTURITY.

Behold yon seaman from the o'erhanging shore Imagined lands across the main explore. Dim specks and formless lines, with straining gaze, Lost in the faint horizon's twinkling haze, Uncertain of its mark his eye pursues; Nor knows if hills, or fogs, or clouds it views. Lead but his faltering powers to Wisdom's light, Through Herschel's wond'rous tube direct his sight; Clear o'er the wave the purple mountains rise, And seem to penetrate the stooping skies.

Tir'd of the present, reckless of the past, With wistful glances to the future cast; Man, tost in changeful thought, with hope elate, Wavering, dejected, ponders on his fate:—

"Teach me, great Nature! Yields the soul to Death; "Or seeks new regions with the parting breath?— "And what new region?—And must Guilt despair?"— "Or how, if Justice reign, reigns Mercy there?"— In syllogistic hood conjecture veils; Proves moral laws in metaphysic scales; Hears adverse reasonings noisy warfare wage, Fool refute fool, and sage encounter sage; Sees darkness thicken o'er his closing span: And Fear concludes the search that Doubt began. Heaven-taught, again he meditates the tomb: Beams evangelic dissipate the gloom. What scenes unfold! "Hail, opening bliss!" he cries, While tears of rapture tremble in his eyes: "Graved on that mystic Cross I read, 'Forgive!' "Lo! a Redeemer dies that I may live: "Lo! rising Saints attest the vanquish'd grave: "Lo! grace to renovate, a God to save. "Adieu to fear, uncertainty, and strife: "Hail, hail, ye glories of immortal life!"

Fortitude

FORTITUDE.

Its wings around the yielding town The victor host unfurl'd— "And shall my shame," said Cato, "crown "The conquest of the world?

"Unarm'd, bareheaded, on the sands "Shall I the tyrant meet? "Shall I be dragg'd by servile hands "To crouch at Cæsar's feet?

"Shall I, the jest of gazing Rome, "Swell his triumphal pride? "Be life and shame the coward's doom——" He grasp'd the sword, and died.

Unpitied Louis groan'd forlorn, While murderous Hate decreed In the broad eye of public scorn His destined head to bleed.

Malice, afraid to lose her prey, Watch'd o'er his forfeit breath; And snatch'd with jealous haste away Each instrument of death.

"Unknown the temper of my soul," He cries, "ye seize the knife. "A stronger Power than man's control "For you shall guard my life.

"Let Paris, while she rears the block, "With exultation ring; "And send her myriads forth to mock "Him that was once her King!

"O, never shall this hand profane "The faith to God it owes. "Thou bid'st me, Heaven, the life retain "Thy will as yet bestows!"

Lo here the Fortitude compared That Truth and Error give! 'Twas but to die the Roman dared: The Christian dares to live.

Equity

EQUITY.

Turn, turn thy hasty foot aside, Nor crush that helpless worm: NapoleonNottingHillp68The frame thy scornful looks deride Requir'd a God to form.

The common Lord of all that move, From whom thy being flow'd, A portion of his boundless love On that poor worm bestow'd.

The Sun, the Moon, the Stars He made To all his Creatures free; And spreads o'er earth the grassy blade For worms as well as thee.

The Crown to awe, the Rod to smite, Is Man's by law divine: But sacred be each humbler right That clashes not with thine!

Let savage prowlers of the wood, With thirst of hunger bold; Let poisonous foes, by land or flood; Let plunderers of thy fold;

Let pilferers of thy hoarded grain, To justice victims die: But injure not the harmless train That creep, or walk, or fly.

Let them enjoy their little day, Their lowly bliss receive: O, do not lightly take away The Life thou canst not give!

Life

LIFE.

A Soldier's course from battles won To new-commencing strife; A Pilgrim's restless as the sun: Behold the Christian's life!

Prepared the trumpet's call to greet, Soldier of Jesus! stand. Pilgrim of Christ! with ready feet Await thy Lord's command.

The hosts of Satan pant for spoil: How can thy warfare close? Lonely thou tread'st a foreign soil: How canst thou hope repose?

Seek, Soldier, Pilgrim, seek thine home, Reveal'd in sacred lore; The land whence Pilgrims never roam, Where Soldiers war no more:

Where Grief shall never wound, nor Death, Beneath the Saviour's reign: Nor Sin with pestilential breath His holy realm profane:

The land where, Suns and Moons unknown, And Night's alternate sway, Jehovah's ever-burning throne Upholds unbroken day:

The land, for Heaven its bliss unseen Bids earthly types suggest; Where healing leaves and fadeless green Fruit-laden groves invest:

Where Founts of Life their treasures yield In streams that never cease; Where everlasting mountains shield Vales of eternal peace:

Where they who meet shall never part; Where Grace atchieves its plan: And God, uniting every heart, Dwells face to face with man.

Stanzas Supposed to be Written in a Tower Commanding an Extensive Prospect

STANZAS

SUPPOSED TO BE WRITTEN IN A TOWER COMMANDING AN EXTENSIVE PROSPECT.

See, the long beams of dawning light With dewy silver gem the plain; Kindle the vapoury mountain's height, And spread with gold the crimson main—

—Why bid the fires of Morning hail, The misty pageant of an hour? See Noon through cloudless ether sail, And panting Nature own her power.

But lo! the pride of Noon decays. What flames the brow of Eve invest! See earth and heaven, a boundless blaze: See Nature hail the peerless West!

Behold, the gorgeous vision flies: See, see the last expiring ray!— O, why the passing glory prize, Nor think on realms of endless day?

Morn yields to Noon, and Noon to Eve.— O Father! let my heart be placed Less on the world I soon must leave, And more on that to which I haste.

Stanzas to a Church-Bell

STANZAS

TO A CHURCH-BELL.

Sonorous Brass of changeful power, Now whirl'd amain, now swinging slow, Alike prepared to hail the hour Of hope or fear, of joy or woe!

When Sabbath-tracks to prayer invite, Or babes acquire a Christian's name, Or Wedlock's holy ties unite, Thy notes the festival proclaim.

And when unbodied spirits fly, Thy knell reveals the parting breath; And when the lifted bier draws nigh, Conducts it to the vault of death.

When rebecks greet the jocund wake, Or May-day wreaths perfume the plain; The labouring spire thy carols shake, And rouse to mirth the village train.

When gleamy fires the corn-stack climb, Or flames the sinking roof invade; In quick alarm thy backward chime On distant hamlets calls for aid.

When Jervis lops the flying host; When Howe or Duncan shouts "Destroy!" Thy clanging peals from coast to coast Explosive bear a people's joy.

And when to Henry's hallow'd ground In sable pomp shall George be borne; Thy muffled strokes in broken sound Shall tell how boding nations mourn.

Emblem of man's uncertain tongue, That owns each varying passion's sway; From hope to fear, from plaint to song, Transferr'd within one little day!

Sonorous Brass, let grief or joy, Let sober truth or wild pretence, Or hope or fear thy tones employ; Alike in thee 'tis innocence.

Not so, when man's uncertain voice Conspires to aid the foul intent, Pursues unawed its headstrong choice, By malice urged, on vengeance bent;

With rage o'erwhelms, with guile betrays, The living wounds, defames the dead, Love with envenom'd scorn repays, With curses loads a brother's head;

The Power, whose nod is fate, defies, Disdains his mercy, braves his ire, Scoffs the bright mansions of the skies, And Hell's blue lakes of endless fire.

O, when the Dead of every age, For Judgement ranged in order due, In Accusation's open page Each "idle word" recorded view;

What crowds shall wish their tongues, like thee, Had but perform'd a mimic's part; Had moved from conscious meaning free, Nor told the language of the heart!

The Birthday-Eve

THE

BIRTHDAY-EVE.

O'er the Lake's placid bosom, for hush'd was the night, With its fires all unclouded the Firmament glow'd; And saw kindred fires dart an emulous light, Deep sunk in their fathomless crystal abode.

No screech-owl disturb'd the repose of the wood; No watch-dog foreboded disquiet and harm; No torrent, in cataracts hurling its flood, With Fancy's calm dreams blended noise and alarm.

One streamlet remote, from the margin that fell, On the ear stealing soft in low murmur complain'd: Yet the murmur but seem'd the more clearly to tell By a contrast so gentle the stillness that reign'd.

A sound by yon rock, nor uncheck'd nor supprest, As from lips half unconscious escaping was heard; Then, as rapt meditation expanded the breast, Clear, strong, and unbroken the descant recurr'd.

"Yes, Morn, when emergent she crimsons the sea, "And Noon, throned on high when she scorches the plain, "And Eve, when she fades from each glimmering tree, "And Night, with new worlds when she spangles her train:

"All, glorious all! Hark, in turn they declare "The fount, whence the tide of resplendency flows! "How glorious they in their mansions of air! "How glorious He, who such glory bestows!

"On the wings of the whirlwind He measures the sky, "Now viewless in light, now in darkness array'd; "O'er Creation expands his unslumbering eye, "And in wisdom controls what in wisdom he made.

"He bids the red thunderbolt sleep in its cloud, "While calmly it floats o'er the head of the just; "But wings it with rage at the crest of the proud, "Brings him down, lays him low, brings him down to the dust.

"King of Kings, Lord of Lords, God of heav'n, as of earth, "Supreme, as in wisdom, in might and in love! Thy sheltering hand overshadow'd my birth, "And hung o'er my childhood a shield from above.

"When borne on the treacherous current of youth, Thy love steer'd my bark, and made tranquil the stream; "Unfolded benignant the lamp of thy Truth, "And bade me, tho' trembling, rejoice in the beam.

"To the bright shore of Manhood when eager I flew, "And, with novelty charm'd, the gay landscape survey'd; "To a lone valley pointing thy Love bade me view "How soft was the verdure, how peaceful the shade;

"Bade my feet from its confines aspire not to stray, "Bade me trace its pure brook, nor the streamlet disdain; "Bade me learn (may I learn!) from the emblem my way "In silence to hold, yet to hold not in vain.

"O Father! for now from her orbit the year, "Ere yon fires set again, shall her speed have withdrawn; "And another with pinions unfurl'd her career "Stands prepared to begin at the peep of the dawn;

"O, frown not, her tribute while gratitude pays, "And hails Thee with rapture the Lord of her doom; "If Hope, still confiding, her accent should raise, "And plead with Thee, Father, for mercy to come!

"Be the year now at hand as the day that is past!— "As the Sun rose this morn in calm lustre array'd, "So rise the new year by no grief overcast, "No turbulent storm of misfortune dismay'd!

"On the splendour of noon no obscurity stole, "Save the dim flitting cloud, that but temper'd the ray: "So if Sorrow must darken the months as they roll, "O, mild be her shadows, and passing her sway!

"As the Moonlight now slumbers on wood, hill, and plain, "And in silence the winds and the waters repose; "So may Peace shed her beams on the year in its wane, "So bright be its evening, so tranquil its close!

"And when morn and eve I no longer behold, "When days, months, and years, Lord, I number no more; "In the arms of thy mercy thy servant enfold, "Thy Works to contemplate, thy Name to adore!

"Oh! cleansed in His blood, who on Calvary groan'd, "In His merits array'd my unworthiness see; "For the least of his brethren thy Son hath aton'd: "Be through ages eternal a Father to me!"

The Sun

THE SUN.

Prime lustre, bright emblem of Bounty Supreme, Who crownedst the glow of Creation's gay dawn; King of Planets, that sparkle adorn'd by thy beam, Or fade into gloom from thy presence withdrawn! While millions of eyes on thy Majesty gaze, From worlds beyond worlds amid ether that roll: O, shake not the fires on thy forehead that blaze, And ascribe to thyself what was made for the whole.

From the throne whence thou guidest obedient spheres, O, scorn not the frail generations of man. What if threescore and ten be the term of his years? Lo! thousands, or myriads, number thy span. Why exult o'er yon orbs that in ether's wide sea Around thee for ages their circuit have trod? "They shine but with radiance borrow'd from Me!" And thou but with radiance borrow'd from God!

Exult then, O Sun, in the pride of thy sway, As from sleep springs a Giant elate in his might: With power undisguised awe the regions of Day; By the Moon, thy fair delegate, govern the Night. Yet here, in this bosom, an inmate resides, An ethereal spark, of flame purer than thine; Illumined by Him, who o'er Nature presides, Who bade me adore, and ordain'd thee to shine.

When the Soul, all extinct her ethereal fire, In Guilt's murky labyrinth lay down to die; The Saviour beheld her, and, quenching his ire In Mercy's bright fountain, He stoop'd from the sky. On Golgotha bleeding,——thou sawst it aghast,— Thou sawst it, and horror o'erclouded thy face,—— On Golgotha bleeding, He pardon'd the past; And shower'd on her darkness the splendours of Grace.

Alas! If, absorb'd in pollutions of clay, Beams of love shed from Heaven profanely she spurn; How blest, could she fade with thy perishing ray, And with thy sinking orb into Nothing return! But how blest if, my Saviour, renew'd by Thy light, She springs at Thy call from defilement below, With Seraphs for ever, while suns set in night, For ever, for ever and ever, to glow!

Ode to the Harp of Cowper

ODE

TO THE HARP OF COWPER.

While empty sounds incessant ring From many a human lyre; Why, Harp of Cowper, sleeps thy string, Touch'd with ethereal fire?

Unchased by yonder feeble sun, Have vapours dank of earth Quench'd, ere thy master's course be run, That spark of heavenly birth?

The spark from Heaven can never die.— Has then the hallow'd flame, Of mortals weary, sought the sky, Returning whence it came?

No, never shalt thou mourn the blaze From thy vibrations fled. Lo, still its lambent glory plays Around thy master's head.

Seest thou forlorn thy master stand Pierced by the shaft of pain? Hath slow disease unnerved the hand, That woke thy holy strain?

Yes, Pain hath bent and twang'd her bow, And launch'd her keenest dart: And pale disease with footstep slow Hath mined thy master's heart.

O, soon may He, whose face more bright The clouds of woe reveal, Recal the eye's declining light, The wounded spirit heal!

Yet, for his hidden ways in vain Our labouring thoughts explore; Perchance He wills thy holy strain To sound on earth no more.

In sleep then unrepining lie, If such be Heaven's decree, Till, for "the twinkling of an eye" Thy master sleep with thee.

A little while thy sleep prolong, Till hence with him removed: Then wake to raise the eternal song Before the God he loved.

Ode to the Memory of William Cowper, Esq.

ODE

TO THE MEMORY OF

WILLIAM COWPER, Esq.

<>I. 1. "Seraph!"—from Heaven's eternal throne Slow the solemn accents roll—— "Thou, by whose hand on David's favor'd soul "Through clouds of grief my mercy shone: "To him, whom now 'tis thine to guard, "A blessing in affliction's form convey. "Go, gently on the Christian Bard "The wand of sorrow lay."

<>I. 2. The obedient Spirit flies. Aid to Salvation's heirs ordain'd to lend, Ministrant hosts his flight attend. Hark to the song that rends the skies!

"From the flame's refining power "More pure the gold of Ophir flows: "From affliction's fiery hour "More bright the Christian's virtue glows. "Bard, lov'd of Heaven! thy Saviour's face "Though clouds and darkness hide; Tis but a moment. Canst thou doubt his grace? "For thee the Saviour died."

<>I. 3. Around the unconscious Bard with pitying gaze The heavenly squadrons stand. With pealing swell and solemn pause He sings the Great Redeemer's praise. Nigh the raptur'd Seraph draws: With smiles of love he waves his hand; And cries, Tis Mercy," while he lays On Cowper's brow the wand. With nerves unstrung, and aspect pale, The son of sorrow lies: And sad and wildering visions sail Before his vacant eyes.

<>II. I. "Seraph!"—from God's eternal throne, Hark, the dread behest again! "The gold is tried: bid cease my servant's pain: "Go, make the Heaven he sang his own." ——"Secure thy Truth, untired thy Love, "Parent of Good!" angelic hymns reply, "To Saints that live in bliss above, "To Saints below that die."

<>II. 2. On Sorrow's couch reclined Behold the Bard! Mark ye the beamless glance Wide-wandering slow in dizzy trance; The sigh that speaks the wounded mind? Weak his hand; yet still it strays, Sweet lyre! athwart thy hallow'd frame: Faint his voice; yet still would raise In broken tones his Saviour's name. Seraph! O, haste the glad command— "In bliss," he cries, "repose." The Christian sinks: behold an angel hand The stiffening eyelid close!

<>II. 3. "Servant of God!"—through Heaven the sounds are spread— "Servant of God! well done. "Thy warfare's past, thy toil is o'er: "Visions of woe no longer dread. "Moon and star thou need'st no more, "Nor yonder perishable sun: "The night of earthly noons is fled, "The eternal day's begun. "Thy Master calls."—"Awake, awake," Proclaims the Incarnate Word; "Servant of God! well done: partake "The glories of thy Lord."

The Dying Indian: an Ode

THE

DYING INDIAN:

AN ODE.

PREFACE.

An American Indian, when captured in war by savages of another tribe, is commonly tortured to death by fire. In that case, after previously enduring much barbarous usage, he is finally fastened to the flake; and sings, while burning, his death song. The general tenor of the death-songs may appear by the following extracts from Carver's Travels into the interior parts of North America, 2d edit. p. 337—341.

"The prisoners destined to death are soon led to the place of execution, which is generally in the centre of the camp or village; where, being stripped, and every part of their body blackened, the skin of a crow or raven is fixed on their heads. They are then bound to a stake with faggots heaped around them; and obliged, for the last time, to sing their death-song. The warriors, for such it is only who commonly suffer this punishment, now perform in a more prolix manner this sad solemnity. They recount, with an audible voice, all the brave actions they have performed; and pride themselves in the number of enemies they have killed. In this rehearsal they spare not even their tormentors; but strive, by every provoking tale they can invent, to irritate and insult them."

"An Indian, who was under the hands of his tormentors, had the audacity to tell them, that they were ignorant old women, and did not know how to put brave prisoners to death. He acquainted them that he had heretofore taken some of their warriors; and instead of the trivial punishments they had inflicted on him, he had devised for them the most excruciating torments: that, having bound them to a stake, he had stuck their bodies full of sharp splinters of turpentine wood, to which he then set fire; and dancing around them, enjoyed the agonizing pangs of the flaming victims."—

Of another Indian, tortured to death in his presence, he speaks thus: "During this time he sung his warlike exploits. He recapitulated every stratagem he had made use of to surprise his enemies: he boasted of the quantity of scalps he possessed; and enumerated the prisoners he had taken. He then described the different barbarous methods by which he had put them to death; and seemed even then to receive inconceivable pleasure from the recital of the horrid tale. But he dwelt more particularly on the cruelties he had practised on such of the kindred of his present tormentors as had fallen into his hands: endeavouring by these aggravated insults to induce them to increase his torments, that he might be able to give greater proofs of fortitude. Even in the last struggles of life, when he was no longer able to vent in words the indignant provocation his tongue would have uttered, a smile of mingled scorn and triumph sat on his countenance."—

The Indian ideas of futurity are thus described. "They doubt not but they shall exist in some future state. They however fancy that their employ- ments there will be similar to those they are engaged in here, without the labour and difficulty annexed to them in this period of their existence. They consequently expect to be translated to a delightful country, where they shall always have a clear unclouded sky, and enjoy a perpetual spring; where the forests will abound with game, and the lakes with fish, which might be taken without requiring a painful exertion of skill, or a laborious pursuit.—But they expect that these pleasures will be proportioned and distributed according to their merit. The skilful hunter, the bold and successful warrior, will be entitled to a greater share, than those who, through indolence or want of skill, cannot boast of any superiority over the common herd." (Ibid.)

THE

DYING INDIAN:

AN ODE.

<>I. 1. "Why pause before I burn? "Your torments I defy! "Convoke your chiefs, from me to learn "How Mohawk Warriors die." Impatient torture hail'd the morn: The stake was rear'd, the captive bound: The smouldering faggot slowly blaz'd. Age and youth assembled round With taunting aspect gazed; While thus, retorting scorn for scorn, The song of death he raised.

<>I. 2. "Pale at the sight of blood, "Ye Women-Chiefs, go hunt some helpless prey! "Lurk for the marten, traps for fables lay, "Or spear the beaver plunging in the flood: "But, Cowards, well beware "The wolf or rugged bear! "Vilest of the Indian name, "Children, that tremble at a Mohawk's frown; "Unskill'd with glorious pangs to crown "The dying Warrior's fame!

<>I. 3. "Is this your vaunted art? "Is this to act the Torturer's part? "Go, rival a Mosquito's smart! "Your bravest chiefs of yore "I seized: their flesh my burning pincers tore. "Round them I wove the glowing cane: "Red splinters pierced each hissing vein:

"While from my back, in bloody triumph hung, "Scalps of their slaughter'd brethren swung. "The Woods return'd their moan. "I watch'd the writhing limb, "Saw the rack'd eyeball swim, "And laugh'd at every groan!

<>II. 1. "Prepare to meet their fate. "See Mohawk vengeance rise! "Your race I doom to Mohawk hate! "Lo, swift as lightning flies, "My sons your sculking wiles have cross'd: "The wood they scour, the swamp, the glen: "I see the shortlived fray! "Wood and hill and trackless fen "Echo your wild dismay. "Cowards! your scorched bones are toss'd "Of Mohawk dogs the prey.

<>II. 2. "Behind yon mountains blue, "Clear to the valiant, to the coward's eye "Hung, a dim vapour, in the distant sky, "My fires the chase renew; "And scenes of martial deed, "The dauntless Warrior's meed. "There they mark your servile race "To women's toils, the coward's doom, consign'd "My Sires! I come: we mount the wind, "And scoff at their disgrace!"

<>II. 3. He spoke, he laugh'd, he died. "Hail, my unequall'd Son," said Pride. "Not so;" a voice from Heaven replied. "Is He the truly brave, "Victor of pain, but thine and passion's slave?

"His holy head see Stephen bow: "See meekness calm his angel brow. "Around see Malice scowl, see Vengeance glare; "See Rage the murderous stones prepare; "And Saul the garments keep. "Hark!—'Lord, their sin forgive! 'My spirit, Lord, receive!—' "He spake, and fell asleep."

The Reformation: an Ode

THE

REFORMATION:

AN ODE.

<>I. Tis mine, the sway from pole to pole—" Attend! 'tis Superstition's boast— "The sceptre mine that awes the soul "In Lapland wilds, on India's coast. "Caffraria's trembling chiefs to Me "And Gambian monarchs bow the servile knee. "My rites thy countless multitudes, Cathay, "And Niphon's bloody isles obey.

"Before his monster-idols prone, "Or Lama's never vacant throne, "The Tartar crouches to my rod. "Columbia's savage at my nod "Cries to the Spirit of the midnight wood, "Or sooths the fancied Power that thunders in the flood.

<>II. "But chief o'er Thee, once dreaded Foe, "Thee, self-proclaim'd the Eternal's Son, "My favourite wreaths of triumph glow; "From Thee my fairest realms are won. "Thy harvests fill the wondering East— "I call my locust-armies to the feast. "The living clouds from Arab deserts rise; "And darkness wraps the noontide skies: "An Eden spreads before their face; "Behind, a naked wilderness.

"Has aught escaped them? At my glance "My Euphratéan Horse advance; "From plain to plain in whirlwind havoc shoot, "And grind with iron hoofs each desolated root.

<>III. "And now the adverse clime I greet. "There, central in thy new domain, "His throne the exiled Dragon's seat, "Behold my dread Vicegerent reign! "Before him, lo! with rival zeal, "Thy captives once, ten vassal monarchs kneel,

"Bend to his foot the gold-encircled brow, "And as to Heaven in homage bow. "Sublime his triple crown he rears; "Treads in the dust his vanquish'd peers; "With irreversible decree "Metes out the land, divides the sea;

"Annuls thy laws, degrades thee with a nod, "And in Jehovah's fane exalts himself as God.

<>IV. "In him my delegated sway "Soon shall the farthest North adore, "And Adel's plains of orient day, "And California's evening shore; "And Fuego join the firm accord, "Till Earth with all her tongues proclaim him Lord. "And Thou, who dar'st with Me the sceptre share— "What outcry shakes the stagnant air?

"Why heaves and swells yon torpid deep? "Ten thousand moons have seen it sleep! "Why undulates the stedfast ground?"— Amazed she eyes the regions round. Then with instinctive dread her look she bends Where her Vicegerent's throne in hallow'd state ascends.

<>V. On seven proud hills of old renown The imperial fortress rears its crest: Around unnumber'd bulwarks frown; And terror chills the conscious West. A lamb, fair sign of peace and love, Trac'd in the broider'd banner floats above. But mark the walls beneath! The emblem vain Waves o'er the scourge, the rack, the chain,

And nameless forms of torturing power: And still to each embattled tower, And each tall parapet along, Fierce bands in fable armour throng: And oft in flames the bolt of vengeance hurl'd Uproots opposing thrones, and awes the prostrate world.