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The TRAVELLER and SEXTON.

[From POEMS by HERBERT and BRAYLEY.]

TRAVELLER, at the close of day,

A Just as the sun went down,

With riding tir'd, pursu'd his way
Towards where, involv'd in clouds so grey,
Dim gleam'd the distant town.

Chill gloomy mists the heav'ns o'ercast,
The clouds look'd big with rain :—
He wrapp'd his cloak, and ey'd the blast,
And spurr'd his steed, and gallop'd fast
O'er the wide dreary plain.

Thus, hast'ning on-the night grows dark,
Black frowns the lonely dell!

No road appears, nor house, nor mark,
To guide his doubtful way;-but, hark!
Deep tolls a funeral bell!

Loud and more loud, upon the breeze,
The mournful murmurs spread,
When, turning quick, alarm'd he sees
A village spire o'ertop the trees,
Where rest the lowly dead.

What shall he do?-where shelter seek,
To screen him from the shower?—
The rising winds blow cold and bleak,
Blue lightnings flash, and thunders break,
And rattling torrents pour.

Perplex'd, he throws his head around,
Wild with a thousand fears ;—

And, while his thoughts with cares abound,
Bright glitt'ring o'er the flooded ground,
Sudden-a light appears!-

He turns to view-the tinted rays
Bespeak it from the church ;-
"Tis gone!-but now a lantern's blaze
Its pale yet social beam displays,

Dim glimmering in the porch.-—————

It chanc'd the squire, that afternoon,
Had buried been, in state ;-
The rites were o'er, the people gone,
Yet, ere the Sexton's task was done,
The evening had grown late.

haste,

The Traveller asks with eager
"Eriend, is the village nigh?"
""Tis two or three good miles at least,
And all aeross a dreary waste,"
The Sexton made reply.

"Is there no inn, nor house a-near?”
"None!-you had best alight,
Tie up your horse, take shelter here,
And when the stormy clouds shall clear,
I then will set you right

""Tis a long, dark, and dangerous way,
And there are pits beside,
That would the stoutest heart betray,
And ten to one you go astray,
Unless you have a guide."

No choice remains-for now again
The bellowing thunders roll,

Down rush deep-whelming floods of rain,
And, wildly o'er the neighbouring plain,
Impetuous whirlwinds howl.

The Traveller quits his smoking steed,
And ties him to the porch;
And with the Sexton then agreed,
That, while the angry storms proceed,
He'd shelter in the church.

The Sexton turns the creaking key,
The doors wide open fly;
And, by the partial gleam, they see,
Involv'd in deep obscurity,

A fabric rude and high.

Banners and 'scutcheons, round the pile,
With gloomy grandeur rose,

And down the dark and "long-drawn" aisle,
Where sculptur'd forms the thoughts beguile,
The silent dead repose.

24

Deep

Deep shadows o'er the pathway glide,
The Traveller shrinks with fear;-
And now upon the tomb-stone's side,
Fierce warriors, arm'd in martial pride
And trophied pomp, appear.

The moon's pale beam, the aisles between,
Play'd feebly o'er the wall;-

And, though no forms distinct are seen,
Loud, dismal shrieks from birds obscene,
The Traveller's soul appal.

"Advance!" the Sexton cries; "advance !”—
Sounds from the hollow walls.-

The Traveller starts! when, dire mischance,
As if to mock his fearful glance,
Adown the lantern falls!

"Good God!" exclaims the luckless wight,
Now what is to be done!"—
"Done!-why, I'll go and strike a light:
Stay here, you have no cause for fright,
I shall be back anon."

"Be quick, for heav'n's sake," cries the man ;
"This is a dreadful place!"—
The stumbling Sexton slow went on,
While hollow echoes solemn ran
Around the vaulted space.-

His rallied spirits now dispel

The Traveller's former fears,

Compos'd he sits, when, dread to tell!-
Alarming thoughts again impel,

As something strikes his ears!

The Sexton's step!-It was not that!
'Twas a deep rattling sound,
That, with a thund'ring pit-a-pat,
Advanc'd near where the Traveller sat,
And shook the hollow ground.

Aghast, and terror-struck, he rose
Speechless with wild surprise ;-
When, as the rapid lightning glows,

Through the stain'd windows, they disclose,
A flaming pair of eyes!

E

In chilly currents moves his blood,

No power

is left to fly;

When, lo! as air-form'd shadows scud,
Before his glance a Phantom stood,
Dread, monstrous, dark, and high.

With scream prolong'd, it shook its head-
The Traveller at the sound

Thinks he hears roused the sheeted dead,
And, soon with quaking limbs outspread,
Drops fainting to the ground.-

The noise, alarm'd, the Sexton hears,
And hastily returns ;

For well he wot the Traveller's fears
Would vanish when the light appears,
Which once more dimly burns.

"What, ho!" he cries," how goes the night?"-
The traveller, like a corse,
With fearful glance beholds the light
Display the cause of all his fright,
In one grim form-HIS HORSE!-

• Brutes have no souls,' the Schoolmen say-
And yet our Traveller's pad,
Had from the tempest run away-
Thus making of his wits display,
As much as if he had.

Left to himself, he quickly tore
The fast'ning from the porch,
And, ent'ring the wide-open door,
Slow pacing o'er the marble floor,
Sought refuge in the Church.

DOMESTIC

DOMESTIC LITERATURE

Of the Year 1803.

CHAPTER I.

BIBLICAL AND THEOLOGICAL.

Comprising Biblical Criticism, Theological Criticism, Sermons, single Sermons, controversial Divinity.

TH

THE misfortunes sustained by Dr. Stock, the learned bishop of Killala; during the late Irish troubles, are known to most of our readers, yet few men who have met with such misfortunes, and been driven by the iron hand of war from their homes and familiar connexions, have improved their calamities so pleasantly to themselves, or so beneficially to the public. The leisure into which he was thus com-. pelled, with an eye still permanently fixed on the duties of his sacred vocation, he devoted to biblical fiterature; and the result has been a presentation to the public of "The Book of the Prophet Isaiah, in Hebrew and English. The Hebrew textmetrically arranged. The Translation altered from that of Bishop Lowth; with Notes critical and explanatory." To few scholars is sacred literature indebted more than to bishop Lowth, yet such is the difficulty attendant upon many passages in the sublime and abrupt prophecy before us, that it is no degradation to this excellent prelate

to affirm, that though in his new version he accomplished much, he still left much to be accomplished. A few emendations were shortly afterwards attempted by Dr. Green, and another new and very elegant, as well as accurate, version was given by the late learned Michael Dodson, esq. which introduced a short literary correspondence between the bishop and himself, conducted with a politeness and liberality that reflect an equal degree of credit on both the parties. We must regret that this very valuable translation does not appear to have fallen into Dr. Stock's hands, for we are confident he would frequently have referred to it if it had done so, and we have little doubt that he would on several occasions have adopted its interpretation in preference to his own; we are also astonished that as little attention appears to have been paid to De Rossi. Bishop Lowth, however, is the basis on which he builds his edifice; and the corrections which he has chiefly introduced, independently of his own, are from Rosen

müller,

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