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النشر الإلكتروني



Have stoop'd with age; the solid continents
Have left their banks; and man's imperial works -|
The toil, pride, strength of kingdoms, which had flung
Their haughty honours in the face of heaven, |
As if immortal I have been swept away
Shatter'd, and mould'ring, | buried, and forgot. 1
But time has shed no dimness on thy front, |
Nor touch'd the firmness of thy tread: | youth, strength,
And beauty still are thine as clear, as bright, |
As when the Almighty Former sent thee forth, |
Beautiful offspring of his curious skill, |
To watch earth's northern beacon, and proclaim
The eternal chorus of Eternal Love. |

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That stream of light, |


I wonder as I gaze.
Undimm'd, unquench'd', just as I see thee now,- |
Has issued from those dazzling points, | thro' years
That go back far into eternity. I
Exhaust'lessa flood! | for ever spent, renew'd
For ever! Yea, and those refulgent drops, |
Which now descend upon my lifted eye, |
Left their far fountain twice three years ago. |
While those wing'd particles, | whose speed outstrips
The flight of thought, | were on their way, the earth
Compass'd its tedious circuit round, and round, |
And in the extremes of annual change, beheld
Six autumns fade, six springs renew their bloom : |
So far from earth those mighty orbs revolve! |
So vast the void through which their beams descend ̧ ! |

Yea, glorious lamps of God, he may have quench'd'
Your ancient flames, and bid eternal night
Rest on your spheres、; | and yet no tidings reach
This distant planet. | Messengers still come, |
Laden with your far fire, and we may seem
To see your lights still burning; while their blaze ¦
But hides the black wreck of extinguish'd realms', |
Where anarchy, and darkness long have reign'd. |

a Egź-hast'lės; not ègź-zàst'lès. Re-fül'džent; not rè-fâl'džånt.

Yet what is this which to the astonish'd mind
Seems measureless, and which the baffled thought
Confounds? A span, a point', in those domains
Which the keen eye can traverse. Seven stars
Dwell in that brilliant cluster; and the sight
Embraces all at once; yet each from each |
Recedes as far as each of them from earth
And ev'ry star from ev'ry other burns
No less remote. I

From the profound of heaven, | Untravell❜d e'en in thought, keen, piercing rays Dart through the void, | revealing to the sense | Systems, and worlds unnumber'd. Take the glass, And search the skies. The opening skies pour down Upon your gaze, | thick showers of sparkling fire.-| Stars, crowded, | throng'd', in regions so remote, | That their swift beams- the swiftest things that be- | I Have travell❜d centuries on their flight to earth. Earth, sun, and nearer constellations, | what Are ye', amid this infinite extent, |

And multitude of God's most infinite works! |

And these are suns.!- vast, central, living fires',- |
Lords of dependent systems,- kings of worlds' |
That wait as satellites upon their power, 1
And flourish in their smile. | Awake my soul, |
And meditate the wonder! Countless suns

Blaze round thee, leading forth their countless worlds! |
Worlds in whose bosoms living things rejoice, |
And drink the bliss of being from the fount
Of all-pervading Love.—|

What mind can know, | What tongue can ut、ter, all their multitudes! | Thus numberless in numberless abodes! | Known but to thee, bless'd Father! | Thine they are, | Thy children, and thy care; and none o'erlook'd Of thee! no, not the humblest soul that dwells Upon the humblest globe | which wheels its course

Amid the giant glories of the sky, |
Like the mean mote that dances in the beam |
Amongst the mirror'd lamps | which fling
Their wasteful splendour from the palace wall. |
None, none escape the kindness of thy care; |
All compass'd underneath thy spacious wing,
Each fed, and guided by thy powerful hand. |

Tell me, ye splendid orbs," as from your throne, | Ye mark the rolling provinces that own


Your sway, what beings fill those bright abodes? How form'd how gift'ed

what their





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their state Their happiness their wisdom? | Do they bear The stamp of human na'ture? Or has God Peopled those purer realms with lovelier forms, | And more celestial minds,? | Does Innocence Still wear her native, and untainted bloom' ? | Or has Sin breath'd his deadly blight abroad, | And sow'd corruption in those fairy bow.ers? |

Has War trod o'er them with his foot of fire'; |
And Slavery forg'd his chains'; and Wrath, and Hate, |
And sordid Selfishness, | and cruel Lust, |
Leagued their base bands | to tread out light, and truth, ¦
And scatter'd wo where Heaven had planted joy'? |
Or are they yet all Par'adise, unfallen,


And uncorrupt? | existence one long joy,
Without disease upon the frame, or sin
Upon the heart, or weariness of life,
Hope never quench'd, and age unknown', |

And death unfear'd; while fresh, and fadeless youth |
Glows in the light from God's near throne of love? ¦

Open your lips', ye wonderful, and fair! |
Speak, speak! the mysteries of those living worlds
Unfold! No lan'guage? | Everlasting light,

Splendid orbs; not splendid dorbs.

Eg-list'èns; not êg-żist'

And everlasting silence? | Yet the eye
May read, and understand. The hand of God |
Has written legibly what man may know, |
The glory of the Maker. There it shines,
Ineffable, unchangeable; and man,
Bound to the surface of this pigmy globe, |
May know, and ask no more. |

In other days, | When death shall give the encumber'd spirit wings, | Its range shall be extended; it shall roam, Perchance, amongst those vast, mysterious spheres,—| Shall pass from orb to orb, and dwell in each', | Familiar with its children, learn their laws, | And share their state, and study, and adore | The infinite varieties of bliss,

And beauty, by the hand of Power Divine, |
Lavish'd on all its works. |


Shall thus roll on with ever fresh delight; |
No pause of pleasure, or improvement; | world
On world still opening to the instructed mind |
An unexhausted u'niverse, and time
But adding to its glories; while the soul, |
Advancing ever to the Source of light,
And all perfection, | lives', adores', and reigns',
In cloudless knowledge, pu'rity, and bliss. |



The turf shall be my fragrant_shrine ; |
My temple, Lord, that arch' of thine; |
My censer's breath, the mountain_airs`, |
And silent thoughts, my only prayers. |

My choir shall be the moonlight waves', |
When murmuring homeward to their caves;

Un-ég-hast'èd; not ån-ég-zàst'êd.


Or when the stillness of the sea', |
E'en more than music breathes of thee. |
I'll seek, by day, some glade unknown', |
All light, and silence, like thy throne; |
And the pale stars, shall be, at night', |
The only eyes that watch my rite. |

Thy heaven, on which 't is bliss to look',
Shall be my pure, and shining book, |
Where I shall read, in words of flame',
The glories of thy wondrous name. |

I'll read thy anger in the rack', |
That clouds awhile the day-beam's track ; |
Thy mercy, in the azure hue'
Of sunny bright'ness, breaking through. |


There's nothing bright, above', below1, |
From flowers that bloom', to stars that glow', |
But in its light, my soul can see, |
Some feature of thy Deity! |

There's nothing dark, below', above', |
But in its gloom, I trace thy love; |
And meekly wait that moment, when, I
Thy touch shall turn all bright again. |



PIZARRO and DAVILLA in conversation.

[Enter GOMEZ.]

Piz. How now, Gomez ! | what bring'est thou? |

Gom. On yonder hill, among the palm-trees, we have surprised an old cacique: escape by flight he 1 could not, and we seized him, and his attendant un

a Kâs-sèk', a prince, or nobleman, among the Indians.

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