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'T was twilight, and the sunless day-went down
Over the waste of waters, like a veil,

Which-(if withdrawn) would but disclose the frown-
Of one whose hate-is masked-but to assail.
Thus to their hopeless eyes-the night was shown,

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And grimly darkled-o'er the faces pale,
And the dim-desolate deep; twelve days-had Fear-
Been their familiar,—and now-Death-was here!
Then-rose-(from the sea)-the wild farewell,-
Then-shrieked-the timid,-and stood still-the brave,—
Then-some-leaped overboard—(with dreadful yell,)
As eager to anticipate-their grave;
And the sea-yawned around her-(like a hell,)
And down-she sucked with her-the whirling wave,
Like one-who grapples—with his enemy,—
And strives to strangle him-before he die!

And first-one universal shriek-there rushed,—
Louder than the loud ocean, like a crash-
Of echoing thunder; and then-all-was hushed,
Save the wild wind-and the remorseless dash
Of billows; but―(at intervals) there gushed,-
(Accompanied with a convulsive splash,)
A solitary shriek, the bubbling cry—

Of some strong swimmer-in his agony.

There were two fathers-(in this ghastly crew,)—
And with them—their two sons, of whom the one-

Was more robust-and hardy-to the view;

But he--died-early; and when he was gone

His nearest mess-mate-told his sire, who threw

One glance on him,-and said,-"Heaven's will-be done!

I can do nothing!" and he saw him-thrown

Into the deep,-without a tear—or groan !

The other father-had a weaklier child,—

Of a soft cheek-and aspect delicate;
But the boy-bore up-long,-and (with a mild-
And patient spirit)-held aloof-his fate;
Little-he said,—and now-and then-he smiled,-
As if to win a part-from off the weight-

He saw increasing-on his father's heart,

With the deep-deadly thought-th't they must part!

And o'er him-bent his sire, and never raised

His eyes-from off his face,-but wiped the foam

From his pale lips,—and ever-on him gazed!

And when the wished-for shower-(at length) was come, And the boy's eyes,-(which the dull film-half-glazed,)— Brightened, and-(for a moment) seemed to roam,

He squeezed (from out a rag) some drops of rain-
Into his dying child's mouth; but-in vain!

The boy expired; the father-held the clay,

And looked upon it long; and when (at last)
Death-left no doubt,—and the dead burden-lay
Stiff-on his heart,-and pulse-and hope was past,
He watched it (wistfully,)—until away

'T was borne-by the rude wave-wherein 't was cast;
Then—he—(himself) sunk down--all dumb—and shivering,
And gave no sign—of life,—save his limbs—quivering.

XLV.-ORIGIN OF FEELINGS, THOUGHTS, AND ACTS.
The origin of beauty, love,—and truth,—
Of light, life, motion, and immortal youth,
Of form, of music, sweetnsss,—and delight,
Flashes-from God's own image-on my sight.
I feel the pulses of the Eternal Soul—

In all my veins. My thoughts-within me-roll
Like new-born planets, flushed with happy life;
My nature is at rest. There is no strife,
No battle of contending forms,—above
Earth-and its spheres.

Know ye the land of love?

Its ancient boundaries, the broad extent

Of its illimitable continent?

Where'er worlds bloom-and spirit skies unfold,
Outflow its atmospheres of living gold.

The universe-is like a silver bell;—

The tongue of time—such harmony doth tell
That worlds-are formed within the widening sea-
Of our divine,—perpetual ecstasy.

XLVI.-THE LUST OF POWER.

POLLOK.

One passion-prominent appears:—the lust

Of power,-which oft-times-took the fairer name

Of liberty, and hung the popular flag—

Of FREEDOM Out. Many,-indeed, its names.

When on the throne it sat,-and round the neck

Of millions-riveted-its iron chain,

And on the shoulders of the people—laid
Burdens-unmerciful,—it title took—

Of tyranny,-oppression,-despotism;
And every tongue-was weary—cursing it.
When in the multitude-it gathered strength,
And, (like an ocean-bursting-from its bounds,—
Long beat in vain,) went forth resistlessly,—

It bore the stamp-and designation then

Of popular fury,-anarchy,—rebellion;

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And honest men-bewailed, all order—void;
All laws-annulled; all property—destroyed;
The venerable-murdered-in the streets;

The wise-despised; streams-red-with human blood;
Harvests-beneath the frantic foot-trod down;
Lands-desolate, and famine-at the door.
These are a part; but other names it had
Innumerous-as the shapes-and robes-it wore.
But-under every name,-in nature-still-
Invariably the same,-and always-bad,
Conflicting cruelly-against itself,

By its own hand-it fell; part-slaying part.
And men-who noticed not the suicide

Stood-wondering much-why earth,-from age—to age,—
Was still enslaved,—and erring causes―gave.

This was earth's liberty,-its nature-this,
However named, in whomsoever found,—
And found it was-in all-of woman born,-
Each man-to make all-subject to his will;

To make them do,-undo,-eat,—drink,—stand,—move,
Talk,-think, and feel-exactly—as he chose.

Hence the eternal strife—of brotherhoods,

Of individuals, families,—commonwealths.

The root-(from which it grew)—was pride; bad root,—
And bad-the fruit it bore. Then wonder not
Th't long-the nations-from it-richly reaped
Oppression,-slavery,—tyranny,—and war;
Confusion,-desolation,-trouble-shame.

And, marvelous-tho' it seems,-this monster,—(when
It took the name-of slavery,—as oft

It did,)-had advocates-to plead its cause;

Beings th't walked erect,—and spoke-like men

Of Christian parentage descended too,

And dipped-in the baptismal font,-as

sign

Of dedication-to the Prince-who bowed

To death-to set the sin-bound prisoner-free.

Unchristian thought! on what pretense—soe'er—

Of right inherited,—or else-acquired;—

Of loss, or profit, or what plea-you name,—
To buy and sell,—to barter,-whip,—and hold—
In chains-a being-of celestial make;

Of kindred form,—of kindred faculties,—
Of kindred feelings,—passions,—thoughts,—desires;
Born-free-and heir-of an immortal hope;
Thought-villainous,—absurd,—detestable !
Unworthy to be harbored-in a fiend!
And only overreached-in wickedness-
By that, birth-too of earthly liberty,
Which aimed-to make a reasonable man

By legistation-think,—and by the sword-believe.

XLVII.-FOWLS OF THE AIR AND LILIES OF THE FIELD.

When my breast labors-with oppressive care,—
And o'er my cheek-descends th' falling tear,
While all my warring passions—are at strife,
Oh! let me list n-t' th' words of life.

Raptures (deep-felt)—his doctrine did impart,—
And thus-he rais'd from earth-th' drooping heart.

"Think not-when all-your scanty stores afford
Is spread-(at once)-upon th' sparing board;
Think not-when worn-th' homely robe appears,-
While on th' roof-th' howling tempest bears;-
What-farther—shall this feeble life sustain,—
And what shall clothe these shiv'ring limbs again.
Say, does not life-its nourishment—exceed,
And th' fair body—its investing weed?
Behold! and look away-your low despair,-
See th' bright tenants of th' barren air:

T' them-nor stores-nor granaries-belong;
Naught-but th' woodland—and th' pleasing song;
Yet your kind-heavenly Father-bends his eye
On th' least wing-th't flits along th' sky.

T' him—they sing—when spring-renews th' plain;
T' him—they cry—in winter's pinching reign;
Nor is their music-nor their plaint-in vain;
He hears th' gay-and th' distressful call,
And-(with unsparing bounty)—fills them all.”

Observe-th' rising lily's snowy grace;
Observe-th' various-vegetable race;

They-neither toil-nor spin,-but careless grow;
Yet see how warm-they blush, how bright-they glow!
What regal vestments-can-with them compare!

What king-so shining, or what queen-so fair |
If-ceaseless-(thus)-th' fowls of heav'n-he feeds,
If-o'er th' fields—such lucid robes—he spreads,
Will He not care for you,-(ye faithless,)—say?
Is He-unwise, or—are ye-less-than they?

XLVIII.-PROGRESS OF LIFE FROM INFANCY TO OLD AGE.

I dream'd-I saw-a little rosy child-
(With flaxen ringlets)—in a garden playing;-
Now-stopping here,—and then-afar off-straying,--
As flowers-or butterfly-his feet beguiled.

'Twas chang'd. One summer's day-I stepp'd aside-
T' let him pass; his face-and manhood—seeming,
And that full eye-of blue-was fondly beaming
On a fair maiden-whom he called-"his bride!"

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Once-more: 't was autumn,-and-(th' cheerful fire)—
I saw a group of youthful forms-surrounding;
(Th' room with harmless pleasantry-resounding,)—
And-(in th' midst)—I mark'd-th' smiling sire.
Th' heavens-were clouded, and I heard th' tone-
Of a slow-moving bell;—th' white-hair'd man—was gone.

XLIX.-HAIL TO THE GENTLE BRIDE.-MITFORD.
Hail-t' th' gentle bride, th' dove-
High nested-in th' column's crest!
Oh, welcome-as th' bird of love,
Who bore the olive-sign-of rest!
Hail t' th' gentle bride! th' flower—

Whose garlands--round th' column twine!

Oh, fairer—than th' citron bower,—

More fragrant-than th' blossomed vine!
Hail t' th' gentle bride! th' star—

Whose radiance-o'er th' column beams;
Oh, soft-as moonlight-seen afar-
A silver shine-on trembling streams!

L-THE LAST MINSTREL.

WALTER Scott.

The way was long, the wind-was cold,
The Minstrel was infirm-and old;
His withered cheek-and tresses gray-
Seemed to have known a better day.
The harp, (his sole remaining joy,)
Was carried by an orphan boy.
The last of all the bards-was he
Who sung-of Border chivalry.
For, well-a-day! their date-was fled,
His tuneful brethren-all were dead;
And he, neglected-and oppressed,
Wished to be with them,—and at rest.
No more,-on prancing palfrey borne,
He caroled,-light as lark—at morn;
No longer, courted—and caressed,
High placed in hall, a welcome guest,
He poured-to lord—and lady gay—

The unpremeditated lay.

Old times-were changed, old manners—gone;

A stranger-filled the Stuarts' throne.

A wandering harper, (scorned—and poor,)
He begged his bread-from door to door;
And tuned, (to please a peasant's ear,)
The harp-a king-had loved to hear.

He passed-where Newark's stately tower
Looks out from Yarrow's birchen bower;

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