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Tell Zeal it lacks devotion,
Tell Love it is but lust,
And wish them not reply,
Tell Age it daily wasteth,
Tell Honour how it alters,
And as they shall reply,
Tell Wit how much it wrangles
In tickle points of niceness ;
And when they do reply,
Tell Physic of her boldness,
Tell Skill it is pretension,
And as they do reply,
Tell Fortune of her blindness,
Tell Nature of decay,
And if they will reply,
Tell Arts they have no soundness,
But vary by esteeming;
If Arts and Schools reply,
Give Arts and Schools the lie.
Tell how the country erreth,
And if they do reply,
Spare not to give the lie.
Commanded thee, done blabbing;
Yet stab at thee who will,
STANZAS TO A CHURCH BELL.
SONOROUS brass of changeful power,
Now whirl'd amain, now swinging slow; Alike prepared to hail the hour
Of hope or fear, of joy or woe!
When Sabbath-tracks to prayer invite,
Or babes acquire a Christian's name, Or Wedlock's holy ties unite,
Thy notes the festival proclaim. VOL. I.
And when unbodied spirits fly,
Thy knell reveals the parting breath; And when the lifted bier draws nigh,
Conducts it to the vault of death.
When rebecks greet the jocund wake,
Or May-day wreaths perfume the plain; The labouring spire thy carols shake,
And rouse to mirth the village train.
When gleamy fires the corn-stack climb,
Or flames the sinking roof invade; In quick alarm thy backward chime
On distant hamlets calls for aid.
When Jervis lops the flying host,
When Howe or Duncan shouts, Destroy!' Thy changeful peals from coast to coast
Explosive bear a people's joy.
In sable pomp shall George be borne;
Shall tell how boding nations mourn.
Emblem of man's uncertain tongue,
That owns each varying passion's sway; From hope to fear, from plaint to song,
Transferr'd within one little day!
Sonorous brass, let grief or joy,
Let sober truth or wild pretence, Or hope or fear thy tones employ, Alike in thee 'tis innocence,
* Henry the Seventh's Chapel.
Not so, when man's uncertain voice
Conspires to aid the foul intent, Pursues unawed its headstrong choice,
By malice urged, on vengeance bent; With rage o'erwhelms, with guile betrays,
The living wounds, defames the dead, Love with envenom'd scorn repays,
With curses loads a brother's head; The power, whose nod is fate, defies,
Disdains his mercy, braves his ire, Scoffs the bright mansions of the skies,
And hell's blue lakes of endless fire. O, when the dead of every age,
For judgment ranged in order due, In Accusation's open page
Each - idle word recorded view; What crowds shall wish their tongues, like thee,
Had but perform'd a mimic's part; Had moved from conscious meaning free, Nor told the language of the heart!
REV, T. GISBORNE.
THE BIRTHDAY EVE. O’ER the Lake's placid bosom, for hush'd was the
night, With its fires all unclouded the firmament glow'd, And saw kindred fires dart an emulous light, : Deep sunk in their fathomless crystal abode.
No screech owl disturb'd the repose of the wood;
No watchdog foreboded disquiet and harm; No torrent, in cataracts hurling its flood, With Fancy's calm dreams blended noise and
alarm. One streamlet remote, from the margin that fell, On the ear stealing soft in low murmur com
plain'd : Yet the murmur but seem'd the more clearly to tell
By a contrast so gentle the stillness that reign'd. A sound by yon rock, nor uncheck'd nor suppressid, As from lips half unconscious escaping was
heard; Then, as rapt meditation expanded the breast, Clear, strong, and unbroken the descant re
curr'd. “Yes, Morn, when emergent she crimsons the sea, And Noon, throned on high when she scorches
the plain ; And Eve, when she fades from each glimmering tree,,
[her train; And Night, with new worlds when she spangles * All, glorious all! Hark, in turn they declare
The fount, whence the tide of resplendency flows! How glorious they in their mansions of air !
How glorious He, who such glory bestows! « On the wings of the whirlwind He measures the
sky, Now viewless in light, now in darkness array'd; O’er Creation expands his unslumbering eye,
And in wisdom controls what in wisdom he made,