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Alternatea follies take the sway',
Licentious passions burn';
Which tenfold force gives nature's law',
That man was made to môurn'.
Look not alone on youthful prime',
Or manhood's active might';
Man', then', is useful to his kind';
Supported is his right';
But see him on the edge of life',
With cares and sorrows wõrn';
Then', age and want', oh'! ill-matched pair'!
Show'.. man was made to mourn!
A few seem favouritest of fate',
In pleasure's lap caressed';
Yet think not all the rich and great
Are likewise truly blest':
But', oh'! what crowds in every land',
Are wretched and forlorn'!
Through weary life this lesson learn',
That man was made to môurn'.
Many and sharp the num'rous ills'
Inwoven with our frame';
More pointed still we make ourselves',
Regret', remorse', and shame';
And man', whose heaven-erected face'
The smiles of love adorn'-
Man's inhumanity to man',
Makes countless thousands mourn'.
See yonder pôôr', o'erlaboured wight',
So abject', mean', and vile',
Who begs a brother of the earth'
To give him leave to tôil';
And see his lordly fellow-worm'
The poor petition SPURN',
Unmindful', though a weeping wife',
And helpless offspring mourn'.
If I'm designede yon lordling'S SLAVE',
By nature's law designed'c
Why was an independentd wish'
E'ere planted in my mind?
If not, why am I subject to'
His cruelty, or scorn?
Or why has man the will and power
To make his fellow mourn'?
aål-tér'nate-not, awl-ter'nate.bFå'vůr-its. Dé-sinde-not, de-zinde'. dIn-de-pèn'dént. edre.
Yet', let not this too much', my son',
Disturb thy youthful breast';
This partial view of human kind'
Is surely not the last'.
The poor', oppressed', honest man',
Had never sure been bôrn',
Had there not been some recompense
To comfort those that mourn.
O death'! the poor man's dearest friend',
The kindest and the best';
Welcome the hour mya aged limbs'
Are laid with thee at rest'.
The great, the wealthy', fear thy blow',
From pomp and pleasure torn';
But', oh'! a blest relief to those
That weary-laden'... mourn'.
To the Skies.—BRYANT.
Ay', gloriously thou standest there',
Beautiful', boundless firmament!!!
That', swelling wide o'er earth and air',
And round the horizon' bent',
With that bright vault and sapphire wall',
Dostd overhang and circle all'.
Far', far below thee', tall gray trees'
Arise', and piles built up of old',
And hills', whose ancient summits freeze
In the fierce light and cold':
The eagle soars his utmost height';
Yet far thou stretchest o'er his flight'.
Thou hast thy frowns': with thee', on high',
The storm has made his airy seat':
Beyond thy soft blue curtain lie
His stores of hail and sleet':
Thence the consuming lightnings break';
There the strong hurricanes awake':
Yet art thou prodigal of smiles'
Smiles sweeter than thy frowns are stern':
Earth sends', from all her thousand isles',
A song at their return;
The glory that comes down from thee',
Bathes in deep joy the land and sea'.
Fér'mâ 'ment. cHd-rl'zôn. dDust.
The sun', the gorgeous sun', is thine'
The pomp that brings and shuts the day';
The clouds that round him change and shine',
The airs that fan his way'..
Thence look the thoughtful stars', and there'
The meek moon walks the silent air'.
The sunny Italy may boast
The beauteous tints that flush her skies';
And', lovely', round the Grecian coast',
May thy blue pillars rise':-
I only know how fair they stand'
About my own beloved land'.
And they are fair': a charm is theirs',
That earth'--the proud', green earth'-has not',
With all the hues', and forms', and airs',
That haunt her sweetest spot'.
We gaze upon thy calm', pure sphere',
And read of heaven's eternal year'.
Oh'! when', amid the throng of men',
The heart grows sick of hollow mirth',
How willingly we turn us', then',
Away from this cold earth',
And look into thy azurea breast,
For seats of innocenceb and rest'!
SECTION XX. The Musick of the Ocean.-WALSH'S NATIONAL GAZETTE.
“And the people of this place say, that, at certain seasons, beautiful sounds are heard from the ocean.”—Mavor's Voyages.
LONELY and wild its rose,
That strain of solemn musick from the sea,
As though the bright air trembled to disclose
An ocean mystery.
Again a low, sweet tone,
Fainting in murmurs on the listening day,
Just bade the excited thought its presence own,
Then died away.
Once more the gush of sound,
Struggling and swelling from the heaving plain,
Thrilled a rich peal triumphantly around,
And fled again.
ad zhůre. bIn'no-sense-not, in'no sunse.
O, boundless deep! we know
Thou hast strange wonders in thy gloom concealed,
Gems, flashing gems, from whose unearthly glow
Sunlight is sealed.
And an eternal spring
Showers her rich colours with unsparing hand,
Where coral trees their graceful branches fling
O'er golden sand.
But tell, O, restless main!
Who are the dwellers in thy world beneath,
That thus the watery realm cannot contain
The joy they breathe ?
Emblem of glorious might!
Are thy wild children like thyself arrayed,
Strong in immortal and unchecked delight,
Which cannot fade ?
Or to mankind allied,
Toiling with wo, and passion's fiery sting,
Like their own home, where storms or peace preside,
As the winds bring ?
Alas, for human thought!
How does it flee existence, worn and old,
To win companionship with beings wrought
Of finer mould!
'Tis vain the reckless waves Join with loud revel the dim ages flown, But keep each secret of their hidden caves
Dark and unknown.
SECTION XXI. The Ocean, at the Resurrection Morn.—POLLOCK. GREAT Ocean! too', that morning', thou the call Of restitution heardst', and reverently To the last trumpet's voice', in silence listenedst'. Great Ocean'! strongest of creation's sons', Unconquerable', unreposed', untired', That rolledst the wild, profound', eternal bass In nature's anthem', and madest musick', such As pleased the ear of God'! original', Unmarred', unfaded' work of Deity', And unburlesqued by mortal's puny skill'; From age to age enduring' and unchanged', Majestical', inimitable', vast'; Loud uttering satire', day and night', on each Succeeding race', and little', pompous work
Of man'!-Unfallen', religious', holy sea'.
Thou bowedst thy glorious head to none', fearedst none',
Heardst none', to none didst honour', but to God
Thy Maker', only worthy to receive
Thy great obeisance'! Undiscovered sea'! 4
Into thy dark', unknown', mysterious caves
And secret haunts', unfathomably deep
Beneath all visible retired', none went
And came again to tell the wonders there'.
Tremendous sea'! what time thou liftedst up
Thy waves on high', and with thy winds and storms
Strange pastime took',a and shooka thy mighty sides
Indignantly', the pride of navies fell;
Beyond the arm of help', unheard', unseen',
Sunk', friend and foe', with all their wealth and war';
And on thy shores', men of a thousand tribes',
Polite and barbarous', trembling stood', amazed',
Confounded', terrified', and thought vast thoughts
Of ruin', boundlessness', omnipotence',
Infinitude', eternity'; and thought,
And wondered still', and grasped', and grasped', and grasped
Again', beyond their reach', exerting all
The soul to take thy great idea in',
To comprehend incomprehensible',
And wondered more', and felt their littleness'.
Self-purifying', unpolluted sea'!
Lover unchangeable', thy faithful breast
Forever heaving to the lovely moon',
That', like a shy and holy virgin', robed
In saintly white', walked nightly in the heavens',
And to thy everlasting serenade
Gave gracious audience'; nor was wooed in vain'.
That morning', thou', that slumberedst not before',
Nor slept',a great Ocean'! laidst thy waves at rest',
And husheda thy mighty minstrelsy! No breath
Thy deep composure stirred', no fin', nor oar';
Like beauty newly dead', so calm', so still,
So lovely', thou', beneath the light that fell
From angel-chariots', sentinelled on high',
Reposed', a and listened',a and sawa thy living change',
Thy dead arise'.
Charybdis listened', and Scylla',
And savage Euxine on the Thracian beach',
Lay motionless': and every battle-ship
Stood still', and every ship of merchandise',
And all that sailed', of every name', stood still'.
Even as the ship of war', full-fledged' and swift',
Like some fierce bird of prey', bore on her foe',
Opposing with as fell intent', the wind
Fell withered from her wings that idly hung';
The stormy bullet', by the cannon thrown
Uncivilly against the heavenly face
Of men', half sped', sunk harmlessly', and all
a Poetick license: grammatically, didst take, didst shake, &c.