On heavenly wings that waft her to the sky When Jordan hush'd his waves, and midnight still 38. ADDRESS TO SCEPTICS. -Campbell Are these the pompous tidings ye proclaim, Lights of the world and demi-gods of fame? Is this your triumph-this your proud applause, Children of truth, and champions of her cause? For this hath science searched, on weary wing, By shore and sea,-each mute and living thing? Launched with Iberia's pilot from the steep, To worlds unknown, and isles beyond the deep! Or round the cope her living chariot driven And wheeled in triumph through the signs of heaven! Oh! star-eyed science, hast thou wandered there, To waft us home the message of despair! Then bind the palm thy sage's brow to suit, Of blasted leaf, and death-distilling fruit! Ah me! the laureled wreath that murder rears, Blood-nursed, and watered by the widow's tears, Seems not so foul, so tainted, and so dread, As waves the night-shade round the sceptic's head. What is the bigot's torch, the tyrant's chain? I smile on death if heavenward hope remain! But if the warring winds of nature's strife Be all the faithless charter of my life,. If chance awaked, inexorable power! This frail and feverish being of an hour; Doomed o'er the world's precarious scene to sweep, Swift as the tempest travels on the deep, To know delight but by her parting smile, And toil, and wish, and weep a little while; Then melt, ye elements! that formed in vain This troubled pulse and visionary brain! Fade, ye wild flowers! memorials of my doom; And sing,, ye stars! that light me to the tomb. Truth! ever lovely-since the world began, The foe of tyrants, and the friend of man,→ How can thy words from balmy slumber start, What is ambition? "Tis a glorious cheat! Angels of light walk not so dazzlingly The sapphire walls of heaven. The unsearched mine It hath no features. In its face is set His lip grows restless, and its smile is curled And what is its reward? At best, a name ! Praise-when the ear has grown too dull to hear; Gold-when the senses it should please are dead; Wreaths-when the hair they cover has grown gray; Fame-when the heart it should have thrilled is numb. All things but love-when love is all we want, And close behind comes death, and ere we know That even these unavailing gifts are ours, He sends us, stripped and naked, to the grave! 40. OPPOSITION OF CHARACTERS.-. One man there was-and many such you might He thought the devil in disguise, and fled Or science; never heard of liberty, But thought the visual line that girt him round, There was another, large of understanding, Of matter traced; its motions, virtues, laws; Leaving the earth at will, he soared to heaven, Did all that mind assisted most, could do; A deeper lesson this to mortals taught, 41. WHAT'S HALLOWED GROUND?—Campbell. What's hallowed ground? Has earth a clod By man, the image of his God, Erect and free, Unscourged by superstition's rod, To bow the knee? What's hallowed ground?-where, mourned and missed, The lips repose our love has kissed, But where's their memory's mansion? Is't Yon churchyard's bowers? No! in ourselves their souls exist, A part of ours. A kiss can consecrate the ground Where mated hearts are mutual bound: The spot where love's first links were wound, Is hallowed, down to earth's profound, What hallows ground where heroes sleep? Their turf may bloom; Or genii twine beneath the deep Their coral tomb. But strew his ashes to the wind Whose sword or voice has saved mankind- Lifts thine on high? To live in hearts we leave behind, Is't death to fall for freedom's right? What can alone ennoble fight? A noble cause? Give that and welcome war to brace The charging cheer, Though death's pale horse lead on the chase, What's hallowed ground? 'Tis what gives birth Earth's compass round; And your high-priesthood shall make earth 42. CASSIUS INSTIGATING BRUTUS AGAINST CESAR. speare. Honor is the subject of my story→→→ I cannot tell what you and other men -Shak |