And genius hath electric power, Which earth can never tame; Bright suns may scorch, and dark clouds lower- The dreams we loved in early life, May melt like mist away; High thoughts may seem, mid passion's strife, Like Carthage in decay; And proud hopes in the human heart May be to ruin hurled; Like mouldering monuments of art Heaped on a sleeping world: Yet, there is something will not die, Where life hath once been fair; Some towering thoughts still rear on high, Some Roman lingers there! He wields the awful lightning-brand, Or, conquering, tramps right royally Or holds high carnival among His earthquakes shake the eternal hills And toss "old ocean's locks;" 82 GOD IN NATURE. The hungry breakers howl amain, And the swift whirlwind spinning o'er He sows death in the red simoon, He speaks! and mist-wrapt pestilence, Oh mighty is the Lord of Hosts! And from his throne of majesty, Upon the bended sky, Around the universe he casts His all-beholding eye! EVENING AFTER A BATTLE. BY TIMOTHY DWIGHT. ABOVE tall western hills, the light of day In pride stupendous, glittering walls aspire, Graced with bright domes, and crowned with towers of fire, Rapt with the splendour, every songster sings, Tops the high bough, and claps his glistening wings; 84 EVENING AFTER A BATTLE. With new-born green, reviving nature blooms, Far south the storm withdrew its troubled reign; Or wrapped all heaven in one wide, mantling flame; From parting clouds, the moon outbreaking shone, And claimed o'er heaven and earth, dominion mild; |