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Tortures, whom avarice goads, or thirst of power Long days and sleepless nights hath scorched ;
to her Whom dragged in triumph at his chariot wheels Imperious Dissipation whirls through life, And hurries from the nursery to the grave Without one interval of thought, or time To ask, “Who placed me here; why was I formed; What shall I be hereafter ? I would speak The calm that stills your wilds, their guest o'er
spreads Diffusive, creeps along the conscious frame, Bids pause each artery, stays each active limb, Each rebel passion chains, and through the soul Breathes holy peace and universal love, For since the globe first rolled, in every land Your shades, ye forests, the deluded heart To heavenly meditation still have called; And every song, that glorified your God, Have heard with eager gladness. Ye with joy, Fresh from his Maker's hand when man arose, Saw him in wondering homage kneel; ye bade Your yet unpractised echoes swell the sound High as the Eternal's throne, when grateful praise First broke the silence of the new-born world. Ye, when with bloody arm infuriate Rome, Pagan or Papal, from the haunts of men Chased the firm band whom truth forbade to yield, Crouch to her priests, and worship at her nod ; Ye screened their flight, with hospitable gloom Sheltered their anguish, and with mingling boughs, Vocal to prayer, a silvan fane supplied. 0, yet, even yet, your sacred influence breathe, Oft as I tread your leaf-strewn paths; to rest,
Lull each tumultuous wish ; with reverent awe
Man loves the forest. Since in Eden's groves His sire, yet innocent, enraptured viewed
Insuperable height of loftiest shade, Cedar, and pine, and fir, and branching palm,' A silvan scene,' man has the forest loved. Those groves no autumn knew: eternal spring With all the blessings of the varied year In rich profusion crowned them. But when Death Seized on his prey,fallen man, Destruction stretched Across the woods her sceptre. With the axe Their pride she quells, uproots them with the storm, Consumes with lightning, with the scythe of Time Spreads them on earth : and yearly o'er their boughs Flings, as in scorn, a many-coloured robe ; Then strips the transient pomp, and scoffs the wilds Naked and chilled in emblematic death. Yet shall unfading Spring her sway resume In that new promised earth, promised by voice Of power unbounded and unfailing truth; Where by no sin to desolation doomed, For sin shall not be there, no storms annoyed, Thy works, great God, for such thy will, shall stand Firm through the ages of eternity!
REV, T. GISBORNE.
ODE TO RELIGION.
On whose majestic brow
hallowed ures, Joys ever pure, and sanctified desires !
Beneath the brown-robed wood, Where Contemplation sits in musing mood, Soothed by the hollow gales and falling flood, What time the sun to other realms is roll'd, And Eve's bright tints of purple and of gold Faint slowly from the western skies away,
While Cynthia's milder face Shoots through the unfolding clouds a silver ray, And o'er the landscape sheds a softer grace, Far from the world's delusive scene I fly,
To woo thee from thy native sphere,
Thou pleasing awful Fair!
Like those high airs of a superior sphere
In Eden's blissful grove;
Listening, while the guardian quire
Now languishing away
I seek thy soul-reviving joys!
known. "Tis thine secure the fickle heart to guide, And keep the passions still on Reason's side, To clear from Error's mist the mental sight, Refine our joys and sanctify delight, Ease the sharp pangs of pain, our griefs assuage, Embellish youth, and dignify our age, To godlike excellence exalt mankind, And stamp her Maker's image on the mind. O bless'd, whose soul thy vivid beauties charm, Thy aims ennoble, and thy raptures warm!
He tastes of bliss below, Which wealth could never buy, nor grandeur know.
His is the smiling saints' unruffled rest,
Arouse the fiend of war,
To shake his steadfast soul,
To rise and mingle with its native day!