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O'ershadowing Scotia's desert coast,
The sisters sail in dusky state *;

And, wrapp'd in clouds, in tempests toss'd,
Weave the airy web of fate;

While the lone shepherd, near the shipless maint, Sees o'er her hills advance the long-drawn funeral


II. 1.

Thou spakest, and lo! a new creation glow'd.
Each unhewn mass of naked stone
Was clad in horrors not its own,

And at its base the trembling nations bow'd.
Giant Error, darkly grand,

Grasp'd the globe with iron hand.
Circled with seats of bliss, the Lord of Light
Saw prostrate worlds adore his golden height.
The statue, waking with immortal powers ‡,
Springs from its parent earth, and shakes the
spheres ;

The indignant pyramid sublimely towers,
And braves the effort of a host of years.
Sweet Music breathes her soul into the wind,
And bright-eyed Painting stamps the image of

the mind.

II. 2.

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Round their rude ark old Egypt's sorcerers rise!
A timbrel'd anthem swells the gale,
And bids the God of Thunders hail §,
With lowings loud the captive God replies.

The Fates of the Northern Mythology.-See Mallet's Antiquities.

† An allusion to the second sight.

See that fine description of the sudden animation of the Palladium, in the second book of the Æneid.

The bull, Apis.

Clouds of incense woo thy smile,
Scaly monarch of the Nile*!

But ah! what myriads claim the bended knee + !
Go, count the busy drops that swell the sea.
Proud land! what eye can trace thy mystic lore,
Lock'd up in characters as dark as night?
What eye those long long labyrinths dare ex-
plore §,

To which the parted soul oft wings her flight; Again to visit her cold cell of clay, [decay! Charm'd with perennial sweets, and smiling at II. 3.

On yon hoar summit, mildly bright ||
With purple ether's liquid light,

High o'er the world the white-robed Magi gaze
On dazzling bursts of heavenly fire;

Start at each blue portentous blaze,

Each flame that flits with adverse spire;
But say, what sounds my ear invade ¶
From Delphi's venerable shade?
The temple rocks, the laurel waves!

'The God! The God!' the Sybil cries. Her figure swells! she foams, she raves! Her figure swells to more than mortal size!

The crocodile.

↑ So numerous were the Deities of Egypt, that, according to an ancient proverb, it was in that country less difficult to find a god than a man.

The Hieroglyphics.

The catacombs, in which the bodies of the earliest generations yet remain without corruption, by virtue of the gums that embalmed them.

The Persians,' says Herodotus, reject the use of temples, altars, and statues. The tops of the highest mountains are the places chosen for sacrifices.' I. 131. The elements, and more particularly fire, were the objects of their religious reverence. An imitation of some wonderful lines in the Iliad.

Streams of rapture roll along,

Silver notes ascend the skies:

Wake, Echo, wake, and catch the song,
Oh, catch it ere it dies!

The Sybil speaks, the dream is o'er,
The holy harpings charm no more.
In vain she checks the god's control;

His madding spirit fills her frame,
And moulds the features of her soul,
Breathing a prophetic flame.

The cavern frowns; its hundred mouths unclose! And, in the thunder's voice, the fate of empire flows.

III. 1.

Mona, thy Druid rites awake the dead!
Rites thy brown oaks would never dare
Even whisper to the idle air;

Rites that have chain'd old Ocean on his bed.
Shiver'd by thy piercing glance,

Pointless falls the hero's lance.

Thy magic bids the imperial eagle fly*,
And blasts the laureate wreath of victory.
Hark, the bard's soul inspires the vocal string!
At every pause dread Silence hovers o'er:
While murky Night sails round on raven wing,
Deepening the tempest's howl, the torrent's


Chased by the morn from Snowdon's awful brow, Where late she sat and scowl'd on the black wave below.

See Tacitus, 1. xiv. c. 29.

III. 2.

Lo, steel-clad War his gorgeous standard rears!
The redcross squadrons madly rage*,

And mow through infancy and age;
Then kiss the sacred dust and melt in tears.
Veiling from the eye of day,
Penance dreams her life away;

In cloister'd solitude she sits and sighs,
While from each shrine still small responses rise.
Hear with what heartfelt beat the midnight bell
Flings its slow summons through the hollow

The weak wan votarist leaves her twilight cell,
To walk, with taper dim, the winding aisle;
With choral chantings vainly to aspire
Beyond this nether sphere, on Rapture's wing of


III. 3.

Lord of each pang the nerves can feel,
Hence with the rack and reeking wheel,
Faith lifts the soul above this little ball!
While gleams of glory open round,
And circling choirs of angels call,

Canst thou, with all thy terrors crown'd,
Hope to obscure that latent spark
Destined to shine when suns are dark?
Thy triumphs cease! through every land,
Hark! Truth proclaims thy triumphs cease:
Her heavenly form, with glowing hand,
Benignly points to piety and peace.

* This remarkable event happened at the siege and sack of Jerusalem, in the last year of the eleventh century. Hume, 1. 221.

Flush'd with youth, her looks impart

Each fine feeling as it flows;
Her voice, the echo of her heart,
Pure as the mountain snows:
Celestial transports round her play,
And softly sweetly die away.

She smiles! and where is now the cloud
That blacken'd o'er thy baneful reign?
Grim Darkness furls her leaden shroud,
Shrinking from her glance in vain.

Her touch unlocks the dayspring from above, And lo! it visits man with beams of light and love.



YE clouds! that far above me float and pause,
Whose pathless march no mortal may control!
Ye Ocean-waves! that, wheresoe'er ye roll,
Yield homage only to eternal laws!

Ye woods that listen to the night-bird's singing,
Midway the smooth and perilous steep reclined;
Save when your own imperious branches swinging
Have made a solemn music of the wind!
Where, like a man beloved of God,
Through glooms, which never woodman trod,
How oft, pursuing fancies holy,

My moonlight way o'er flowering weeds I 'wound,
Inspired, beyond the guess of folly,

By each rude shape and wild unconquerable sound!

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