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Go, cheerful as yon humming-bees,
To labour as to play.”
The angel passed away.
The pilgrims of the world went forth
Obedient to the word, And found where'er they tilled the earth
A garden of the Lord !
Once more, oh! white-winged angel stand,
Where man still pines and grieves, And lead through toil to Eden land,
New Adams and new Eves !
WHEN the British warrior Queen,
Bleeding from the Roman rods, Sought, with an indignant mien,
Counsel of her country's gods ; Sage beneath the spreading oak
Sat the Druid, hoary chief ; Every burning word he spoke
Full of rage, and full of grief.
“Princess! if our aged eyes
Weep upon thy matchless wrongs, "Tis because resentment ties
All the terrors of our tongues.
Rome shall perish !— write that word
In the blood that she has spilt; Perish, hopeless and abhorred,
Deep in ruin as in guilt. Rome, for empire far renowned,
Tramples on a thousand states; Soon her pride shall kiss the ground
Hark! the Gaul is at her gates !
Other Romans shall arise,
Heedless of a soldier's name; Sounds, not arms, shall win the prize,
Harmony the path to fame.
Then the progeny that springs
From the forests of our land, Armed with thunder, clad with wings,
Shall a wider world command.
Regions Cæsar never knew
Thy posterity shall sway; Where his eagles never flew,
None invincible as they.”
Such the bard's prophetic words
Pregnant with celestial fire, Bending, as he swept the chords
Of his sweet but awful lyre.
She, with all a monarch's pride,
Felt them in her bosom glow; Rushed to battle, fought, and died :
Dying, hurled them at the foe :
“Ruffians, pitiless as proud,
Heaven awards the vengeance due Empire is on us bestowed,
Shame and ruin wait for you."
THE COMMON LOT.
BY JAMES MONTGOMERY.
ONCE in the flight of ages past,
There lived a man : and who was he? Mortal ! howe'er thy lot be cast,
That man resembled thee.
Unknown the region of his birth,
The land in which he died unknown; His name hath perished from the earth,
This truth survives alone.
That joy, and grief, and hope, and fear,
Alternate triumphed in his breast; His bliss and woe-a smile, a tear !
Oblivion hides the rest.
The bounding pulse, the languid limb,
The changing spirits' rise and fall;
For these are felt by all.
Enjoyed,- but his delights are fled ;
And foes,- his foes are dead.
He loved—but whom he loved the grave
Hath lost in its unconscious womb: Oh, she was fair! but nought could save
Her beauty from the tomb.
The rolling seasons day and night,
Sun, moon, and stars, the earth and main; Erewhile his portion, life and light,
To him exist in vain.
He saw whatever thou hast seen ;
Encountered all that troubles thee :
He is,—what thou shalt be.
The clouds and sunbeams o'er his eye
That once their shades and glory threw,
No vestige where they flew.
Their ruins, since the world began,
Than this—THERE LIVED A MAN!
Joy holds her court in great Belshazzar's hall,
But, lo ! the Monarch rises.—“Pour," he cries,
Those golden vessels crown, which erewhile stood
Such is thine own impending fate, O king !
Awful the horror, when Belshazzar raised