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The lips that loved the truth;
The single eye, whose glance sublime
The soul, whose thoughts were wont to climb
Of old *, before the lamp grew dark,
The child of Hannah's prayer
Heard, midst the temple's silent round,
The Lord, who chose him there.
Thus early call'd, and strongly moved,
SPENCER his course began;
From strength to strength, from grace to grace,
He triumph'd while he ran.
How short his day!-the glorious prize,
With arm invincible, to wield
The spirit's sword, the spirit's shield,
The loveliest star of evening's train
* 1 Samuel i. and iii.
And leaves the world in night;
Who shall forbid the eye to weep
For ever bow'd his honour'd head,
The heart of friendship cold and dead,
Revolving his mysterious lot,
I mourn him, but I praise him not;
O Church! to whom the youth was dear,
Behold the path he trod;
A'milky way' through midnight skies!
Prepare to meet thy God.'
THE FOLLY OF ATHEISM.
DULL Atheist! could a giddy dance
Construct so wonderful, so wise,
Why do not Arabe's driving sands,
Fair freighted fleets, the child of chance,
Presumptuous wretch! thyself survey,
Tell me from whence the' immortal dust,
Where wast thou, when this populous earth
What, when the embryo speck of life,
Nursed in the womb, its slender form
Say, didst thou warp the fibre woof?
Didst thou then bid the bounding heart
Or clothe in flesh the hardening bone,
Who bids the babe to catch the breeze,
And with impatient hands untaught,
Or who with unextinguish'd love
A God! a God! the wide earth shouts,
He moulded in his palm the world,
'Let us make man!' With beauty clad,
And reason throned upon his brow
Around he turns his wondering eyes,
'Ye hills and vales! ye meads and woods,
Fair creatures, tell me if you can,
From whence, and what I am?
'What parent power, all great and good,
Tell me, Creation, tell me how
I COME not, Death! with vain, untimely fears,
I bring not Fear, in Frenzy's robe array'd,
With murmurs of despair.
For what art thou, O Death! that Reason's eye Should shun the menace of thy threatening might; Or turn upon thy form
The gaze of wild dismay?
Or why should Terror arm thy upraised hand With shafts of anger, and the murderer's rage; And throw around thy brows
The lightning's livid fires?
Were life the limit of the spirit's course,
No star of being gleam'd;
Had Nature to the winds of heaven proclaim'd
Did not Religion from thy masked brow
To show a seraph's smile;