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Between the desperate savage, scarcely raised
40 Above the beast whose flesh he ate, undressed, And the most polished of the human race, Was product of his persevering search. Religion owed him much, as from the false She suffered much; for still his main design,
45 In all his contemplations, was to trace The wisdom, providence, and love of God, And to his fellows, less observant, show Them forth. From prejudice redeemed, with all His passions still, above the common world,
50 Sublime in reason and in aim sublime, He sat, and on the marvellous works of God Sedately thought; now glancing up his eye, Intelligent, through all the starry dance, And penetrating now the deep remote
55 Of central causes in the womb opaque Of matter hid; now, with inspection nice, Entering the mystic labyrinths of the mind, Where thought, of notice ever shy, behind Thought, disappearing, still retired; and still,
60 Thought meeting thought, and thought awakening thought, And mingling still with thought in endless maze, Bewildered observation; now, with eye Yet more severely purged, looking far down Into the heart, where passion wove a web
65 Of thousand, thousand threads, in grain and hue All different; then upward venturing whiles, But reverently, and in his hand, the light Revealed, near the eternal Throne, he gazed, Philosophizing less than worshipping.
70 Most truly great! his intellectual strength And knowledge, vast, to men of lesser mind, Seemed infinite ; yet, from his high pursuits, And reasonings most profound, he still returned
Home, with an humbler and a warmer heart:
How glorious now, with vision purified
Morning Hymn to Mont Blanc.-COLERIDGE.
Hast thou a charm to stay the morning star
Yet like some sweet, beguiling melody,
Awake, my soul ! not only passive praise
Thou first and chief, sole sovereign of the vale !
And you, ye five wild torrents fiercely glad !
Ye ice-falls ! ye that from the mountain's brow
And stopped at once amid their maddest plunge !
you with rainbows ? Who with living flowers 55 Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet ? “God !” let the torrents, like a shout of nations, Answer! and let the ice-plains echo, “ God !” “ God!” sing, ye meadow-streams, with gladsome voice! Ye pine-groves, with your soft and soul-like sounds! 60 And they, too, have a voice, yon piles of snow, And in their perilous fall shall thunder, “ God.”
Ye living flowers that skirt the eternal frost !
Once more, hoar mount! with thy sky-pointing peaks, Oft from whose feet the avalanche, unheard,
70 Shoots downward, glittering through the pure serene, Into the depth of clouds that veil thy breast, Thou, too, again, stupendous mountain ! thou, That, as I raise my head, awhile bowed low In adoration, upward from thy base
75 Slow-travelling with dim eyes suffused with tears, Solemnly seemest, like a vapory cloud, To rise before me — rise, O ever rise, Riše, like a cloud of incense, from the earth! Thou kingly spirit throned among the hills,
80 Thou dread ambassador from earth to heaven, Great hierarch! tell thou the silent sky, And tell the stars, and tell yon rising sun, Earth, with her thousand voices, praises God !
Battle of Waterloo.—BYRON.
1. There was a sound of revelry by night;
And Belgium's capital had gathered then Her beauty and her chivalry; and bright
The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men;
A thousand hearts beat happily; and when Music arose with its voluptuous swell,
Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again, . And all went merry as a marriage-bell; But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell !
not hear it?— No: 't was but the wind, Or the car rattling o'er the stony street: On with the dance! Let joy be unconfined ;
No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet
To chase the glowing hours with flying feet;
As if the clouds its echo would repeat;
3. Within a windowed niche of that high hall,
Sat Brunswick's fated chieftain: he did hear That sound the first amidst the festival,
And caught its tone with Death’s prophetic ear;
And when they smiled because he deemed it near, His heart more truly knew that peal too well,
Which stretched his father on a bloody bier,