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Were looking down in blame:
I took the dead man by his hand,
And call'd upon his name!

O God! it made me quake to see
Such sense within the slain;
But when I touch'd the lifeless clay,
The blood gush'd out amain!
For every clot, a burning spot
Was scorching in my brain!

'My head was like an ardent coal, My heart as solid ice;

Lik

A dozen times I groan'd; the dead
Had never groan'd but twice!

My wretched, wretched soul, I knew,
Was at the Devil's price:

But

T

And

'And now, from forth the frowning sky,
From the heavens' topmost height,

I heard a voice-the awful voice
Of the blood-avenging Sprite:—
Thou guilty man! take up thy dead
And hide it from my sight!'

'I took the dreary body up,
And cast it in a stream,—
A sluggish water, black as ink,
The depth was so extreme:—
My gentle Boy, remember this
Is nothing but a dream!

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-n I cleansed my bloody hands, nd wash'd my forehead cool, sat among the urchins young, at evening in the school.

, Heaven! to think of their white souls, nd mine so black and grim!

uld not share in childish prayer, or join in Evening Hymn:

a Devil of the Pit I seem'd, id holy Cherubim!

peace went with them, one and all, d each calm pillow spread;

Guilt was my grim Chamberlain at lighted me to bed;

drew my midnight curtains round, ch fingers bloody red!

night I lay in agony, anguish dark and deep;

ever'd eyes I dared not close, stared aghast at Sleep:

in had render'd unto her keys of Hell to keep!

night I lay in agony,
n weary chime to chime,
one besetting, horrid hint,
I rack'd me all the time;
ty yearning, like the first
ce impulse unto crime!

སས བ་vཔlgI ༦ } Pསབ༦ Did that temptation crave,ill urging me to go and see The dead man in his grave!

Heavily I rose up, as soon
As light was in the sky,

nd sought the black accursed pool
With a wild misgiving eye;

nd I saw the Dead in the river bed, For the faithless stream was dry.

Merrily rose the lark, and shook
The dewdrops from its wing;

ut I never mark'd its morning flight,
I never heard it sing:

or I was stooping once again Under the horrid thing.

With breathless speed, like a soul in chase,
I took him up and ran;—

ere was no time to dig a grave

Before the day began:

a lonesome wood, with heaps of leaves, I hid the murder'd man!

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And all that day I read in school,

But my thought was other where; soon as the midday task was done,

In secret I was there:

d a mighty wind had swept the leaves And still the corpse was bare!

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na nrst began to weep,

I knew my secret then was one
at earth refused to keep:
and or sea, though he should be
n thousand fathoms deep.

wills the fierce avenging Sprite,
blood for blood atones!
hough he's buried in a cave,
d trodden down with stones,
years have rotted off his flesh,-
world shall see his bones!

od! that horrid, horrid dream ets me now awake!

—again, with dizzy brain,

human life I take;

ny right red hand grows raging hot, Cranmer's at the stake.

still no peace for the restless clay, wave or mould allow;

rrid thing pursues my soul,—

ands before me now!"

arful boy look'd up and saw

› drops upon his brow.

ery night, while gentle sleep urchin eyelids kiss'd,

ern-faced men set out from Lynn,

ugh the cold and heavy mist; igene Aram walk'd between,

JULIA WARD HOWE

IA WARD Howe, born in New York, 1819. 43 she became the wife of Dr. Howe. Her published work was entitled Passion

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rs," a volume of poems. Later she wrote lies, "The World's Own," "Lenore," and polytus." Her "Battle-Hymn of the Re‚” inspired by the Civil War, is a lyric of exlinary power. Mrs. Howe is a popular er on Woman's Rights and kindred subjects.

TLE-HYMN OF THE REPUBLIC

NE eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord:

trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored;

th loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword:

His truth is marching on.

e seen Him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps;

have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and damps;

read His righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps:

His day is marching on.

e read a fiery gospel writ in burnish'd rows of steel:

ye deal with my contemners, so with you my grace shall deal;

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