Between the desperate savage, scarcely raised
Above the beast whose flesh he ate, undressed,
And the most polished of the human race,
Was product of his persevering search.
Religion owed him much, as from the false
She suffered much; for still his main design,
In all his contemplations, was to trace
The wisdom, providence, and love of God,
And to his fellows, less observant, show

Them forth. From prejudice redeemed, with all
His passions still, above the common world,
Sublime in reason and in aim sublime,
He sat, and on the marvellous works of God
Sedately thought; now glancing up his eye,
Intelligent, through all the starry dance,
And penetrating now the deep remote
Of central causes in the womb opaque
Of matter hid; now, with inspection nice,
Entering the mystic labyrinths of the mind,
Where thought, of notice ever shy, behind
Thought, disappearing, still retired; and still,

Thought meeting thought, and thought awakening thought, And mingling still with thought in endless maze, — Bewildered observation; now, with eye

Yet more severely purged, looking far down
Into the heart, where passion wove a web

Of thousand, thousand threads, in grain and hue
All different; then upward venturing whiles,
But reverently, and in his hand, the light
Revealed, near the eternal Throne, he gazed,
Philosophizing less than worshipping.
Most truly great! his intellectual strength
And knowledge, vast, to men of lesser mind,
Seemed infinite; yet, from his high pursuits,
And reasonings most profound, he still returned

Home, with an humbler and a warmer heart:
And none so lowly bowed before his God,
As none so well His awful majesty
And goodness comprehended; or so well
His own dependency and weakness knew.

How glorious now, with vision purified
At the Essential Truth, entirely free
From error, he, investigating still, -

For knowledge is not found, unsought, in heaven, —
From world to world, at pleasure, roves on wing
Of golden ray upborne; or, at the feet

Of heaven's most ancient sages, sitting, hears

New wonders of the wondrous works of God!

EXERCISE XXX.

Morning Hymn to Mont Blanc.-COLERIDGE.

Hast thou a charm to stay the morning star

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In his steep course?

so long he seems to pause

On thy bald, awful head, O sovereign Blanc!

The Arve and Aveiron at thy base

Rave ceaselessly; but thou, most awful form!
Risest from forth thy silent sea of pines,

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How silently! Around thee and above

Deep is the air and dark, — substantial black, —
An ebon mass; methinks thou piercest it,

As with a wedge! But when I look again,

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It is thine own calm home, thy crystal shrine,

Thy habitation from eternity!

O dread and silent mount! I gazed upon thee,
Till thou, still present to the bodily sense,

Didst vanish from my thought: entranced in prayer
I worshipped the Invisible alone.

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Yet like some sweet, beguiling melody,
So sweet, we know not we are listening to it,

Thou, the meanwhile, wast blending with my thoughts,
Yea, with my life, and life's own secret joy,—
Till the dilating soul, enrapt, transfused,
Into the mighty vision passing there,
As in her natural form, swelled vast to Heaven.

Awake, my soul! not only passive praise
Thou owest!—not alone these swelling tears,
Mute thanks, and secret ecstacy! Awake,
Voice of sweet song! Awake, my heart, awake
Green vales and icy cliffs all join my hymn.

Thou first and chief, sole sovereign of the vale!
Oh! struggling with the darkness all the night,
And visited all night by troops of stars,

Or when they climb the sky, or when they sink:
Companion of the morning-star at dawn,
Thyself earth's rosy star, and of the dawn
Co-herald! wake, O wake! and utter praise!
Who sank thy sunless pillars deep in earth?
Who filled thy countenance with rosy light?
Who made thee parent of perpetual streams?

And you, ye five wild torrents fiercely glad!
Who called you forth from night and utter death,
From dark and icy caverns called you forth,
Down those precipitous, black, jagged rocks,
For ever shattered and the same for ever?
Who gave you your invulnerable life,

Your strength, your speed, your fury, and your joy,
Unceasing thunder and eternal foam?

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And who commanded, and the silence came,

"Here let the billows stiffen, and have rest"?

Ye ice-falls! ye that from the mountain's brow

Adown enormous ravines slope amain,

Torrents, methinks, that heard a mighty voice,

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And stopped at once amid their maddest plunge!
Motionless torrents! silent cataracts! -

Who made you glorious as the gates of heaven
Beneath the keen full moon? Who bade the sun

Clothe you with rainbows? Who with living flowers 55
Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet?-
"God!" let the torrents, like a shout of nations,
Answer! and let the ice-plains echo, “God!”
"God!" sing, ye meadow-streams, with gladsome voice!
Ye pine-groves, with your soft and soul-like sounds!
And they, too, have a voice, yon piles of snow,
And in their perilous fall shall thunder, "God."

Ye living flowers that skirt the eternal frost!
Ye wild goats sporting round the eagle's nest!
Ye eagles, playmates of the mountain-storm!
Ye lightnings, the dread arrows of the clouds!
Ye signs and wonders of the elements!

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Utter forth "God," and fill the hills with praise!

Once more, hoar mount! with thy sky-pointing peaks,

Oft from whose feet the avalanche, unheard,
Shoots downward, glittering through the pure serene,

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Into the depth of clouds that veil thy breast, -
Thou, too, again, stupendous mountain! thou,
That, as I raise my head, awhile bowed low
In adoration, upward from thy base
Slow-travelling with dim eyes suffused with tears,
Solemnly seemest, like a vapory cloud,
To rise before me-rise, O ever rise,

Rise, like a cloud of incense, from the earth!
Thou kingly spirit throned among the hills,
Thou dread ambassador from earth to heaven,
Great hierarch! tell thou the silent sky,
And tell the stars, and tell yon rising sun,
Earth, with her thousand voices, praises God!

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EXERCISE XXXI.

Battle of Waterloo.-BYRON.

1. There was a sound of revelry by night; And Belgium's capital had gathered then Her beauty and her chivalry; and bright

The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men; A thousand hearts beat happily; and when Music arose with its voluptuous swell,

Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again, And all went merry as a marriage-bell ;

But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell

2. Did ye not hear it? - No: 't was but the wind,

Or the car rattling o'er the stony street:

On with the dance! Let joy be unconfined;

No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet To chase the glowing hours with flying feet; But hark! that heavy sound breaks in once more, As if the clouds its echo would repeat;

And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before! Arm! arm! it is it is the cannon's opening roar.

3. Within a windowed niche of that high hall,

Sat Brunswick's fated chieftain: he did hear That sound the first amidst the festival,

And caught its tone with Death's prophetic ear; And when they smiled because he deemed it near, His heart more truly knew that peal too well,

Which stretched his father on a bloody bier, And roused the vengeance blood alone could quell: He rushed into the field, and, foremost fighting, fell.