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And the river rushes through

His voice was heard no more!

'Twas but a step! the gulf he passed;
But that step-it was his last !

As through the mist he winged his way,
(A cloud that hovers night and day,)
The hound hung back, and back he drew
The master and his merlin too.

That narrow place of noise and strife

Received their little all of life!

There now the matin-bell is rung;

The 'Miserere!' duly sung;

And holy men in cowl and hood

Are wandering up and down the wood,
But what avail they? Ruthless lord,
Thou didst not shudder when the sword
Here on the young its fury spent,
The helpless and the innocent.
Sit now and answer groan for groan;
The child before thee is thy own;
And she who wildly wanders there,
The mother in her long despair,
Shall oft remind thee, waking, sleeping,
Of those who by the Wharfe were weeping;

Of those who would not be consoled

When red with blood the river rolled !

XXXIV.

THE SEA FIGHT.

S. Rogers.

1.

HE Sun hath ridden into the sky,
And the Night gone to her lair;
Yet all is asleep

On the mighty Deep,

And all in the calm gray air.

II.

All seemeth as calm as an infant's dream,

As far as the eye may ken;

But the cannon blast,

That just now passed,

Hath awakened ten thousand men.

III.

An order is blown from ship to ship;
All round and round it rings;

And each sailor is stirred

By the warlike word,

And his jacket he downwards flings.

IV.

He strippeth his arms to his shoulders strong; He girdeth his loins about ;

And he answers the cry

Of his foemen nigh,

With a cheer and a noble shout.

V.

What follows?—a puff, and a flash of light,

And the booming of a gun;

And a scream, that shoots

To the heart's red roots,

And we know that a fight's begun.

VI.

A thousand shot are at once let loose;
Each flies from its brazen den,

(Like the Plague's swift breath,)
On its deed of death,

And smites down a file of men.

VII.

The guns in their thick-tongued thunder speak,

And the frigates all rock and ride,

And timbers crash,

And the mad waves dash

Foaming all far and wide:

VIII.

And high as the skies run piercing cries,
All telling one tale of woe,-
That the struggle still,
Between good and ill,

Goes on, in the earth below.

IX.

Day pauses, in gloom, on his western road :
The moon returns again :

But, of all who looked bright,

In the morning light,

There are only a thousand men.

X.

Look up, at the brooding clouds on high!
Look up, at the awful sun!

And, behold, the sea flood

Is all red with blood :

Hush!-a battle is lost,-and won!

Barry Cornwall.

XXXV.

VISION OF BELSHAZZAR.

HE King was on his throne,
The Satraps thronged the hall;
A thousand bright lamps shone
O'er that high festival.

A thousand cups of gold,

In Judah deemed divine

Jehovah's vessels hold

The godless Heathen's wine.

In that same hour and hall
The fingers of a Hand
Came forth against the wall,
And wrote as if on sand:

The fingers of a Man ;-
A solitary Hand

Along the letters ran,

And traced them like a wand.

The Monarch saw, and shook,
And bade no more rejoice;
All bloodless waxed his look,
And tremulous his voice.
'Let the men of lore appear
The wisest of the earth,
And expound the words of fear,
Which mar our royal mirth.'

Chaldea's seers are good,

But here they have no skill; And the unknown letters stood Untold and awful still.

And Babel's men of age

Are wise and deep in lore;

But now they were not sage, They saw-but knew no more.

A Captive in the land,
A stranger and a youth,
He heard the king's command,
He saw that writing's truth;
The lamps around were bright,
The prophecy in view;
He read it on that night,-
The morrow proved it true.

'Belshazzar's grave is made,
His kingdom passed away,
He, in the balance weighed,
To light and worthless clay;

The shroud, his robe of state,

His canopy the stone;

The Mede is at his gate!

The Persian on his throne !'

Byron.

XXXVI.

THE WRECK.

LL night the booming minute-gun
Had pealed along the deep,
And mournfully the rising sun
Looked o'er the tide-worn steep.
A bark from India's coral strand,
Before the raging blast

Had vailed her topsails to the sand,

And bowed her noble mast.

The queenly ship!-brave hearts had striven, And true ones died with her!

We saw her mighty cable riven,

Like floating gossamer.

We saw her proud flag struck that morn,

A star once o'er the seas

Her anchor gone, her deck uptorn

And sadder things than these!

We saw her treasures cast away,-
The rocks with pearls were sown,
And strangely sad, the ruby's ray
Flashed out o'er fretted stone.

And gold was strewn the wet sands o'er,
Like ashes by a breeze;

And gorgeous robes-but oh! that shore

Had sadder things than these!

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