"We have no light that hath not been given;
We have no strength but shall soon be riven;
We have no power wherein man may trust;
Like him are we things of time and dust;
And the legend we blazon with beam and ray,
And the song of our silence, is—'PASSING AWAY.'
"We shall fade in our beauty, the fair and bright,
Like lamps that have served for a festal night;
We shall fall from our spheres, the old and strong,
Like rose-leaves swept by the breeze along;
Though worshiped as gods in the olden day,
We shall be like a vain dream-'PASSING AWAY.'"
From the stars of heaven, and the flowers of earth,
From the pageant of power, and the voice of mirth,
From the mists of morn on the mountain's brow,
From childhood's song, and affection's vow,-
From all, save that o'er which soul bears sway,
Breathes but one record-" PASSING AWAY."
'Passing away," sing the breeze and rill,
As they sweep in their course by vale and hill;
Through the varying scenes of each earthly clime
'Tis the lesson of nature, the voice of time;
And man at last, like his fathers gray,
Writes in his own dust-"PASSING AWAY."
IN Brentford town, of old renown,
There lived a Mister Bray,
Who fell in love with Lucy Bell,
And so did Mister Clay.
To see her ride from Hammersmith,
By all it was allowed,
Such fair" outside "* was never seen,
An angel on a cloud.
* Alluding to the English practice of females riding on the outside of stage-coaches
Said Mr. Bray to Mr. Clay,
"You choose to rival me,
And court Miss Bell; but there your court
No thoroughfare shall be.
"Unless you now give up your suit,
You may repent your love ;I, who have shot a pigeon match, Can shoot a turtle dove.
"So, pray, before you woo her more,
Consider what you do:
If you pop aught to Lucy Bell,-
I'll pop it into you.”
Said Mr. Clay to Mr. Bray,
"Your threats I do explode ;-
One who has been a volunteer
Knows how to prime and load.
"And so I say to you, unless
Your passion quiet keeps,
I, who have shot and hit bulls' eyes,
May chance to hit a sheep's!"
Now gold is oft for silver changed,
And that for copper red;
But these two went away to give
Each other change for lead.
But first they found a friend apiece,
This pleasant thought to give
That when they both were dead, they 'd have Two seconds yet to live.
To measure out the ground, not long
The seconds next forbore;
And having taken one rash step,
They took a dozen more.
They next prepared each pistol pan,
Against the deadly strife;
By putting in the prime of death,
Against the prime of life.
Now all was ready for the foes;
But when they took their stands,
Fear made them tremble so, they found
They both were shaking hands.
Said Mr. C. to Mr. B.,
"Here one of us may fall,
And, like St. Paul's Cathedral now,
Be doomed to have a ball.
"I do confess I did attach
Misconduct to your name!
If I withdraw the charge, will then
Your ramrod do the same ?"
Said Mr. B., "I do agree ;-
But think of Honor's courts,—
If we go off without a shot,
There will be strange reports.
"But look! the morning now is bright,
Though cloudy it begun;
Why can't we aim above, as if
We had called out the sun ?"
So up into the harmless air
Their bullets they did send ;
And may all other duels have
That upshot in the end.
Ex. XL-OVERTHROW OF BELSHAZZAR.
BELSHAZZAR is king! Belshazzar is lord!
And a thousand dark nobles all bend at his board ;-
Fruits glisten, flowers blossom, meats steam, and a flood
Of the wine that man loveth, runs redder than blood:
Wild dancers are there, and a riot of mirth,
And the beauty that maddens the passions of earth;
And the crowds all shout,
Till the vast roofs ring,—
"All praise to Belshazzar, Belshazzar, the king!"
"Bring forth," cries the monarch, "the vessels of gold,
Which my father tore down from the temples of old:
Bring forth; and we 'll drink, while the trumpets are blown,
To the gods of bright silver, of gold, and of stone:
Bring forth !"—and before him the vessels all shine,
And he bows unto Baal, and he drinks the dark wine;
While the trumpets bray,
And the cymbals ring,-
"Praise, praise to Belshazzar, Belshazzar, the king!"
Now, what cometh ?-look, look!-Without menace, or call,
Who writes, with the lightning's bright hand, on the wall?
What pierceth the king, like the point of a dart?
What drives the bold blood from his cheek to his heart?
"Chaldeans! magicians! the letters expound !"
They are read;—and Belshazzar is dead on the ground!
Hark! the Persian is come,
And a Mede 's on the throne of Belshazzar, the king.
Ex. XLI.-DIRGE FOR THE BEAUTIFUL.
SOFTLY, peacefully,
Lay her to rest;
Place the turf lightly
On her young breast;
Gently, solemnly,
Bend o'er the bed
Where ye have pillowed
Thus early her head.
Plant a young willow
Close by her grave;
Let its long branches
Soothingly wave;
Twine a sweet rose-tree
Over the tomb;
Sprinkle fresh buds there ;-
Beauty and bloom.
Let a bright fountain,
Limpid and clear,
Murmur its music,
(Smile through a tear,)
Scatter its diamonds
Where the loved lies,—
Brilliant and starry,
Like angels' eyes.
Then shall the bright birds.
On golden wing,
Lingering over,
Murmuring sing;
Then shall the soft breeze
Pensively sigh,
Bearing rich fragrance
And melody by.
Lay the sod lightly
Över her breast;—
Calm be her slumbers,
Peaceful her rest!
Beautiful, lovely,
She was but given,
A fair bud to earth,
To blossom in heaven.
Ex. XLII.-THE PILGRIM FATHERS.
THE pilgrim fathers-where are they?
The waves that brought them o'er
Still roll in the bay, and throw their
As they break along the shore;
Still roll in the bay, as they rolled that day,
When the May-flower moored below,
When the sea around was black with storms,
And white the shore with snow.
The mists that wrapped the pilgrim's sleep,
Still brood upon the tide;
And his rocks yet keep their watch by the deep,
To stay its waves of pride.
But the snow-white sail, that he gave to the gale,
When the heavens looked dark, is gone;—
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