HENRY HART MILMAN.

HENRY HART MILMAN was born in London on the 10th of February, 1791, and was the youngest son of Sir Francis Milman, physician to the king. In 1801 he was sent to Eton, and in 1810 he entered Brazen Nose College, Oxford, where he gained the first honors in examinations, and received many prizes for English and Latin poems and essays. In 1815 he became a fellow of his college, and two years afterwards entered into holy orders. The living of St. Mary's, in Reading, was bestowed upon him in 1817, and he devoted much of his attention to the duties of his profession, until he was elected Professor of Poetry at Oxford, in 1821. Mr. Milman commenced his course as a poet with the "Judicium Regale," in which the people of the different nations of Europe pronounce their judgment against Napoleon. This was followed by the tragedy of " Fazio," and "The Fall of Jerusalem." His "Martyr of Antioch," published in 1822, is an attempt to present in contrast the simple faith of Jesus and the most gorgeous, yet most natural of pagan superstitions, the worship of the sun. Besides his dramatic works, Mr. Milman is the author of "Samor, the Lord of the Bright City," an epic in twelve books; and a volume of minor poems, none of which are equal to passages in his tragedies He now resides in London, and is prebendary of St. Peter's, and minister of St. Margaret's, Westminster.

BROTHER, thou art gone before us,
And thy saintly soul is flown
Where tears are wiped from every eye,
And sorrow is unknown:

From the burden of the flesh,

And from care and fear released,
Where the wicked cease from troubling,
And the weary are at rest.

The toilsome way thou'st travelled o'er,
And borne the heavy load,

But Christ hath taught thy languid feet
To reach his blest abode;

Thou'rt sleeping now, like Lazarus,

Upon his Father's breast,

Where the wicked cease from troubling,
And the weary are at rest.

Sin can never taint thee now,

Nor doubt thy faith assail,

Nor thy meek trust in Jesus Christ
And the Holy Spirit fail:

And there thou'rt sure to meet the good,
Whom on earth thou lovedst best,
Where the wicked cease from troubling,
And the weary are at rest.

"Earth to earth," and "dust to dust,"
The solemn priest hath said,
So we lay the turf above thee now,
And we seal thy narrow bed:
But thy spirit, brother, soars away
Among the faithful blest,

Where the wicked cease from troubling,

And the weary are at rest.

For thou wert born of woman, Thou didst come,

O Holiest to this world of sin and gloom,

Not in thy dread omnipotent array;

And not by thunders strewed,

Was thy tempestuous road;

Nor indignation burned before Thee on thy way.

But Thee, a soft and naked child,

Thy mother, undefiled,

In the rude manger laid to rest,
From off her virgin breast.

The heavens were not commanded to prepare
A gorgeous canopy of golden air!

Nor stooped their lamps th' enthroned fires on high;
A single silent star

Came wandering from afar,

Gliding unchecked and calm along the liquid sky;
The Eastern Sages leading on,

As at a kingly throne,

To lay their gold and odors sweet
Before thy infant feet.

The earth and ocean were not hushed to hear
Bright harmony from every starry sphere;
Nor at thy presence brake the voice of song
From all the cherub-choirs,

And seraphs' burning lyres,

Poured through the host of heaven the charmed clouds along ;

One angel-troop the strain began.

Of all the race of man

By simple shepherds heard alone
That soft Hosanna's tone.

And when Thou didst depart, no car of flame

To bear Thee hence in lambent radiance came;
Nor visible angels mourned with drooping plumes;
Nor didst Thou mount on high,

From fatal Calvary,

With all thine own redeemed out-bursting from their

tombs.

For Thou didst bear away from earth

But one of human birth,

The dying felon by thy side, to be

In Paradise with Thee.

Nor o'er thy cross the clouds of vengeance brake;

A little while the conscious earth did shake

At that foul deed by her fierce children done;
A few dim hours of day

The world in darkness lay,

Then basked in bright repose beneath the cloudless sun:

While Thou didst sleep within the tomb,
Consenting to thy doom,

Ere yet the white-robed angel shone
Upon the sealed stone.

And when Thou didst arise, Thou didst not stand
With devastation in thy red right hand,
Plaguing the guilty city's murtherous crew;
But Thou didst haste to meet

Thy mother's coming feet,

And bear the words of peace unto the faithful few: Then calmly, slowly didst Thou rise

Into thy native skies;

Thy human form dissolved on high
In its own radiancy.

THE

CRUCIFIXION.

BOUND upon the accursed tree,
Faint and bleeding, who is He?
By the eyes so pale and dim,
Streaming blood and writhing limb,
By the flesh with scourges torn,
By the crown of twisted thorn,
By the side so deeply pierced,

By the baffled burning thirst,
By the drooping death-dewed brow,
Son of Man! 'tis Thou! 'tis Thou!

Bound upon the accursed tree,
Dread and awful, who is He?
By the sun at noonday pale,
Shivering rocks, and rending veil,
By earth that trembled at His doom,
By yonder saints who burst their tomb,
By Eden, promised ere He died

To the felon at his side;

Lord! our suppliant knees we bow!
Son of God! 'tis Thou! 'tis Thou!

Bound upon

the accursed tree,

Dread and awful, who is He?

By the prayer for them that slew,

"Lord! they know not what they do!"
By the spoiled and empty grave,

By the souls He died to save,

By the conquest He hath won,

By the saints before His throne,
By the rainbow round His brow,
Son of God! 'tis Thou! 'tis Thou!

THE JUDGMENT.

THE chariot the chariot! its wheels roll on fire,
As the Lord cometh down in the pomp of his ire:
Self-moving, it drives on its pathway of cloud,

And the heavens with the burden of Godhead are bowed.

The glory! the glory! by myriads are poured

The hosts of the angels to wait on their Lord;
And the glorified saints and the martyrs are there,
And all who the palm-wreath of victory wear!

The trumpet! the trumpet! the dead have all heard:
So the depths of the stone-covered charnel are stirred :
From the sea, from the land, from the south and the north,
The vast generations of man are come forth.