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Break Superstition's magic spell,
REV, H. MOORE.
As musing slow the seabeat shore I tread,
sway ; While all is dark, and on the white wave's head
The lightning pours a momentary day; Then through the heavens, methinks, Eternal Sire!
Thy justice walks,impels the whirlwind's breath, Swells the deep thunder, barbs the lightning's fire, And shakes o’er guilty worlds the balanced
Then in the roarings of the blast I hear
Thy chariot wheels: 0! who can hear and live? Convicted Nature dreads the vengeance near,
And Guilt uplifts her hands, and cries, Forgive! VOL. I.
But when more tranquil scenes my steps invite,
Where through a fleecy veil the moonshine smiles, Where rapid Derwent gleams with snowy light,
Or Lomond sleeps amid her wooded isles ; 0, then my ravish'd soul thy mercy sees,
Inspiring all beneath, around, above; A small still voice in every dying breeze,
A voice divine proclaims that Thou art Love! Then, stormy shores and surging waves, adieu ! And welcome brook, and vale, and peaceful grove.
[view But whence this thought? Shall Reason's eagle
In none but tranquil scenes trace heavenly love? No! place me where, on Zembla's widow'd coast,
Dark Winter heaps eternal snows on high, And bids his towering battlements of frost
Float on mid seas, and pillar half the sky; Or place me on Bahouda's thirsty sand,
Where the parch'd pilgrim longs for dewy night, Where whirling pyramids of fiery sand
O’erwhelm the panting Arab in his flight; Still heavenly mercy o'er the sullen hours Shall breathe a charm which all those hours
shall cheer, Bid storms be still, and amaranthine flowers
Spring from the ashes of a polar year. New worlds, new seasons at her beck shall rise, Soft branching groves the sunburnt desert
shroud, A sudden fragrance flow through tropic skies,
A sudden rainbow blush on every cloud.
G. O. BUSH.
AN ANGEL'S SURVEY OF THE WORLD.
Among the tribes that float in air around,
No master work of Heaven,
A reasoning mind is given,
I see the graceful form, the meaning face,
Where, with majestic beauty stamp'd, I trace The' inspiring soul that fills the lovely shrine, Reason's keen piercing beam, and Virtue's air
So spake a spirit of ethereal flame,
And, on the pious thought intent,
And with an angel's ken, that wide and far
Glanced like the lightning's instantaneous glare, Our idle, busy, bustling race he view'd.
He saw with sorrow there
Profaned by Folly, or by Vice defaced;
All quench'd the sacred Soul's ethereal fame;
Forgot her being's nobler end and aim; Her reason slave to sense, and bending to the beast. Unchain'd the fiercer passions madden round; Pride, Envy, Lust, Ambition, Rage, confound The world's fair order,— and, like hellhounds
driven By scourging furies, waste the works of Heaven. Here Vice he sees, enthroned in Virtue's shrine, With idol pomp adored, and rites divine, Her secret mysteries unabash'd display, And act her orgies in the face of day. Her impious sons still riot uncontrold; Not fiercer midnight wolves that thin the fold; No ties confine their rage, no sanctions awe; To them no God, no Gospel, and no law;
Yet is their spreading glory seen, Tall as the palm, and as the laurel green; For them fair Plenty heaps her ample stores, And on the genial board unsparing pours ; For them the weary peasant ploughs the soil ; Theirs is the fruit, for which ten thousand toil; Sublime on Fortune's airy height they stand,
Her shining fane command, Rush on her glittering spoils with rapine bold, And share at will her honours and her gold.
Now strike his startled ear from far The din and deafening clamours of the bar. There with arch leer and ever pliant tongue, Stands Sophistry, confounding right and wrong ; With Impudence, nor man nor God can awe, And stern Oppression, sanctified by law;
While Perjury, without remorse or dread,
Justice, with weeping eyes,
There sees he blazing in imperial pride
Like a red comet with his flaming hair;
Oppression, Rapine stalk beside the car, Captivity and Grief and gory Death behind.
But now the martial clarion's shrill alarms
Call all the furies-rouse the rage of war.
He hears the prancing steed, the clattering car, And vales and rocks rebellow loud to arms!' In shining pomp, and awful beauty gay, Fierce for the bloody business of the day, See front to front two kindred armies stand!
Discord, with serpents hissing round her head, Bids to the sky the purple banners spread, Her torch of flame high waving in her hand; With frantic mien she runs from band to band, Tries every beating breast, and sows the seed Of rancour, rage, and death, and every dreadful
Now meet the charging legions-hate and ire
Edge their keen swords and sparkle in their eyes: The glowing field appears a moving fire :
Loud and more loud the mingling clangors rise.