« السابقةمتابعة »
“And now,” quoth poor unthinking Ralph,
'Tis Providence alone secures,
THE BATTLE OF HOHENLINDEN.
On Linden, when the sun was low,
Of Iser, rolling rapidly.
The darkness of her scenery.
To join the dreadful revelry.
Then shook the hills with thunder riven ;
Far flashed the red artillery.
And redder still these fires shall glow,
Of Iser, rolling rapidly.
Shout ’mid their sulphurous canopy.
And charge with all thy chivalry !
THE SICK MAN AND THE ANGEL.
“ Is there no hope ?” the sick Man said.
When thus the Man, with gasping breath :“I feel the chilling wound of death!
Since I must bid the world adieu, “Let me my former life review. “ I grant my bargains were well made, " But all men over-reach in trade;
“ 'Tis self-defence in each profession :
My will hath made the world amends-
By heaven and earth 'twill then be known, “My charities were amply shewn. An Angel came.
« Ah friend !” he cried, “ No more in flattering hope confide. “Can thy good deeds in former times “Outweigh the balance of thy crimes ! 66 What widow or what orphan prays “ To crown thy life with length of days ? “ A pious action's in thy power; “ Embrace with joy the happy hour. “Now while you draw the vital air, “ Prove
intention is sincere. “ This instant give a hundred pound; “Your neighbours want, and you abound.”
“ But why such haste ?” the sick man whines ; “ Who knows as yet what Heaven designs ? “ Perhaps I may recover still. 6. That sum and more are in
will. “Fool!” says the Vision, "now 'tis plain, “ Your life, your soul, your heaven was gain. “ From every side, with all your might, “ You scraped, and scraped beyond your right; " And after death would fain atone, “ By giving what is not your own.
“While there is life there's hope,” he cried : “ Then why such haste ?" so groaned and died !
THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. When marshalled on the nightly plain
The glittering host bestud the sky,
Can fix the sinner's wandering eye.
every gem ; But one alone the Saviour speaks,
It is the Star of Bethlehem. Once on the raging seas I rode,
The storm was loud—the night was dark, The ocean yawned—and rudely blowed
The wind that tossed my foundering bark. Deep horror then my vitals froze,
Death-struck, I ceased the tide to stem;
It was the Star of Bethlehem.
It bade my dark forebodings cease;
peace. Now safely moored-my perils o'er,
I'll sing, first in night's diadem, For ever and for evermore,
The Star !--The Star of Bethlehem !
THE BOY AND THE RAINBOW.
DECLARE, ye sages, if ye find
The happiness of human kind Consists in rectitude of mind, A will subdued to reason's sway, And passions practised to obey; An open and a generous heart, Refined from selfishness and art; Patience which mocks at Fortune's power, And Wisdom never sad nor sour: In these consists our proper bliss, Else Plato reasons much amiss. But foolish mortals still pursue False happiness in place of true : Ambition serves us for a guide, Or lust, or avarice, or pride ; While Reason no assent can gain, And Revelation warns in vain. Hence, through our lives, in every stage From infancy itself to age, A happiness we toil to find, Which still avoids us like the wind ; Ev'n when we think the prize our own, At once 'tis vanished, lost and gone. You'll ask me why I thus rehearse All Epictetus in my verse, And if I fondly hope to please With dry reflections such as these, So trite, so hackneyed, and so stale ?I'll take the hint and tell a tale.
One evening, as a simple swain