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, From the burden of the flesh, And from care and fear released, The toilsome way thou'st travelled o'er, But Christ hath taught thy languid feet Thou'rt sleeping now, like Lazarus, Upon his Father's breast, Where the wicked cease from troubling, Sin can never taint thee now, Nor doubt thy faith assail, Nor thy meek trust in Jesus Christ And there thou'rt sure to meet the good, "Earth to earth," and "dust to dust," 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, The heavens were not commanded to prepare Nor stooped their lamps th' enthroned fires on high; Came wandering from afar, Gliding unchecked and calm along the liquid sky; As at a kingly throne, To lay their gold and odors sweet The earth and ocean were not hushed to hear 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 And when Thou didst depart, no car of flame To bear Thee hence in lambent radiance came; 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; The world in darkness lay, Then basked in bright repose beneath the cloudless sun: While Thou didst sleep within the tomb, Ere yet the white-robed angel shone And when Thou didst arise, Thou didst not stand 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 THE CRUCIFIXION. BOUND upon the accursed tree, By the baffled burning thirst, Bound upon the accursed tree, To the felon at his side; Lord! our suppliant knees we bow! 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 souls He died to save, By the conquest He hath won, By the saints before His throne, THE JUDGMENT. THE chariot the chariot! its wheels roll on fire, 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; The trumpet! the trumpet! the dead have all heard: |