All fix'd on thine; and in their mother, mark
The loveliest look that woman's face can wear,
Her look of love, beholding them and thee:
Then at the altar of your household joys,
Vow one by one, vow altogether, vow
With heart and voice, eternal enmity
Against oppression by your brethren's hands;
Till man or woman under Britain's laws,
Nor son, nor daughter, born within her empire,
Shall buy, or sell, or hold, or be a slave.

J. Montgomery.

THE CRUCIFIXION.

MARTYRS have died, and nature smil'd the same:But was not thy Divinity reveal'd

By the rent temple's veil, the graves unseal'd, And saints who rose thy triumph to proclaim? Heaven's starless darkness, and earth's shuddering frame

In awful terrors for their God appeal'd;
Bidding each heart by disbelief unsteel'd,
Adore with trembling thy most holy name.
O! would it have been thus if man, alone,
Possessing all humanity could hoard,

In virtue's noblest cause his blood had pour'd?
Believe it not; creation knew the tone
Of her Creator,-on the cross or throne;

And thus confess'd her EVERLASTING LORD.

B. Barton.

Tell me where Athens rais'd her towers ?-Where

Thebes

Open'd her hundred portals ?-Tell me where
Stood sea-girt Albion?-Where imperial Rome,
Propp'd by seven hills, sat like a sceptred queen,
And aw'd the tributary world to peace?-
Show me the rampart, which o'er many a hill,
Through many a valley, stretch'd its wide extent,
Rais'd by that mighty monarch to repel
The roving Tartar, when with insult rude
'Gainst Pekin's towers he bent the' unerring bow.
But what is mimic art? Even Nature's works,
Seas, meadows, pastures, the meand'ring streams,
And everlasting hills, shall be no more.

No more shall Teneriffe, cloud-piercing height!
O'erhang the Atlantic surge; nor that fam'd cliff,
Through which the Persian steer'd with many a sail,
Throw to the Lemnian isle its evening shade
O'er half the wide Ægaan.-Where are now
The Alps that confin'd with unnumber'd realms,
And from the Black Sea to the Ocean stream
Stretch'd their extended arms ?-Where's Ararat,
That hill on which the faithful patriarch's ark,
Which seven long months had voyag'd o'er its top,
First rested, when the earth with all her sons,
As now by streaming cataracts of fire,

Was whelm'd by mighty waters?—All at once
Are vanish'd and dissolv'd; no trace remains,
No mark of vain distinction: Heaven itself,
That azure vault, with all those radiant orbs,
Sinks in the universal ruin lost.-

No more shall planets round their central sun
Move in harmonious dance; no more the moon
Hang out her silver lamp; and those fix'd stars,
Spangling the golden canopy of night,
Which oft the Tuscan with his optic glass

Call'd from their wond'rous height, to read their names
And magnitude, some winged minister

Shall quench; and (surest sign that all on earth
Is lost) shall rend from heaven the mystic bow.
Such is that awful, that tremendous day,
Whose coming who shall tell? For as a thief
Unheard, unseen, it steals with silent pace
Through night's dark gloom.-

"Power Supreme! O everlasting King! to thee I kneel,

To thee I lift my voice. With fervent heat
Melt, all ye elements! and thou, high heaven,
Shrink like a shrivell'd scroll!

But think, O Lord,

Think on the best, the noblest of thy works;
Think on thine own bright image! Think on Him
Who died to save us from thy righteous wrath;
And 'midst the wreck of worlds remember man !"

Dr. Glynn.

ON SLAVERY.

OH for a lodge in some vast wilderness,
Some boundless contiguity of shade,
Where rumour of oppression and deceit,
Of unsuccessful or successful war,

Might never reach me more! My ear is pain'd,
My soul is sick with every day's report

Of wrong and outrage with which earth is fill'd.
There is no flesh in man's obdurate heart-
It does not feel for man. That natural bond
Of brotherhood is sever'd as the flax
That falls asunder at the touch of fire.
He finds his fellow guilty of a skin

Not colour'd like his own, and, having power

THE OMNIPRESENCE OF GOD.

PSALM CXXXIX. 1—12.

O LORD! thou searchest all things; thou hast known
Alike my rising up, and sitting down;

Thou compassest my path throughout the day,
My couch at night, my every word and way;
Behind, before, Thy presence I discern,
Thy hand is on me whereso'er I turn:-
Knowledge too wonderful for finite man,
Too high, too deep for human thought to scan!
O whither from Thy presence shall I flee?
Where go, and in Thy Spirit meet not Thee?
If I ascend to heaven,-behold Thy throne!
If I descend to hell,-Thou there art known;
If on the wings of morn I take my flight
On Ocean's verge, Thy hand asserts its might;
If I say, "Darkness shall my refuge be,"
Night's deepest gloom is rendered bright by Thee :-
Distance avails not, darkness hath no pall,

For Thou art every where, and all in all !

Ibid.

A SEATONIAN PRIZE POEM, ON THE DAY OF

JUDGMENT.

THY justice, heavenly King! and that great day,
When Virtue, long abandon'd and forlorn,
Shall raise her pensive head; and Vice, that erst
Rang'd unreprov'd and free, shall sink appall'd;
I sing advent'rous.-But what eye can pierce
The vast unmeasurable realms of space,
O'er which Messiah drives his flaming car,

To that bright region, where enthron'd he sits
First-born of heaven, to judge assembled worlds,
Cloth'd in celestial radiance! Can the Muse,
Her feeble wing all damp with earthly dew,
Soar to that bright empyreal, where around
Myriads of angels, God's perpetual choir,
Hymn hallelujahs, and in concert loud

Chant songs of triumph to their Maker's praise ?-
On that great day the solemn trump shall sound,
(That trump which once in heaven, on man's revolt,
Convok'd the astonish'd seraphs) at whose voice
The' unpeopled graves shall pour forth all their dead.
Then shall the' assembled nations of the earth
From ev'ry quarter at the judgment-seat
Unite; Egyptians, Babylonians, Greeks,
Parthians; and they who dwell on Tyber's banks,
Names fam'd of old: or who of later age,
Chinese and Russian, Mexican and Turk,
Tenant the wide terrene; and they who pitch
Their tents on Niger's banks; or, where the sun
Pours on Golconda's spires his early light,
Drink Ganges' sacred stream. At once shall rise,
Whom distant ages to each other's sight
Had long denied: before the throne shall kneel
Some great Progenitor, while at his side

Stand his descendants through a thousand lines.
Whate'er their nation, and whate'er their rank,
Heroes and patriarchs, slaves and sceptred kings,
With equal eye the God of All shall see,
And judge with equal love.-Where now the works
Of art, the toil of ages?-Where are now
The' imperial cities, sepulchres and domes,
Trophies and pillars ?Where is Egypt's boast,
Those lofty pyramids, which high in air
Rear'd their aspiring heads, to distant times
Of Memphian pride a lasting monument ?-