"Wherefore I praised the dead who are already dead, more than the living who are yet alive."-SOLOMON.
THEY dread no storm that lowers,
No perish'd joys bewail;
They pluck no thorn-clad flowers,
Nor drink of streams that fail:
There is no tear-drop in their eye,
No change upon their brow;
Their placid bosom heaves no sigh,
Though all earth's idols bow.
Who are so greatly blest?
From whom hath sorrow fled?
Who share such deep, unbroken rest
Where all things toil? The dead!
The holy dead. Why weep ye so
Above yon sable bier?
Thrice blessed! they have done with woe,
The living claim the tear.
Go to their sleeping bowers,
Deck their low couch of clay
With earliest spring's soft breathing flowers;
And when they fade away,
Think of the amaranthine wreath,
The garlands never dim,
And tell me why thou fly'st from death,
Or hid'st thy friends from him.
We dream, but they awake;
Dread visions mar our rest;
Through thorns and snares our way we take,
And yet we mourn the blest!
For spirits round the Eternal Throne
How vain the tears we shed!
They are the living, they alone,
Whom thus we call the dead.
I SAID with a moan, as I roamed alone,
By the side of the solemn sea,-
"Oh cast at my feet, which thy billows meet,
Some token to comfort me.
'Mid thy surges cold, a ring of gold
I have lost, with an amethyst bright,
Thou hast locked it so long, in thy casket strong, That the rust must have quenched its light.
"Send a gift, I pray, on thy sheeted spray, To solace my drooping mind,
For I'm sad and grieve, and erelong must leave This rolling globe behind."
Then the Sea answered, "Spoils are mine,
From many an argosy,
And pearl-drops sleep in my bosom deep,
But naught have I there for thee!"
"When I mused before, on this rock-bound shore, The beautiful walked with me,
She hath gone to her rest in the churchyard's breast Since I saw thee last, thou Sea!
Restore! restore! the smile she wore,
When her cheek to mine was pressed, Give back the voice of the fervent soul
That could lighten the darkest breast!"
But the haughty Sea, in its majesty
Swept onward as before,
Though a surge in wrath from its rocky path,
Shrieked out to the sounding shore-
"Thou hast asked of our king a harder thing
Than mortal e'er claimed before,
For never the wealth of a loving heart,
Could Ocean or Earth restore."
THE PASSAGE OF THE RED SEA.
WITH heat o'erlabour'd and the length of way,
On Ethan's beach the bands of Israel lay.
'Twas silence all, the sparkling sands along;
Save where the locust trill'd her feeble song,
Or blended soft in drowsy cadence fell
The wave's low whisper, or the camel's bell.
'Twas silence all!-the flocks for shelter fly
Where, waving light, the acacia shadows lie;
Or where, from far, the flattering vapours make
The noontide semblance of a misty lake:
While the mute swain, in careless safety spread,
With arms enfolded, and dejected head,
Dreams o'er his wondrous call, his lineage high,
And, late reveal'd, his children's destiny.-
For, not in vain, in thraldom's darkest hour,
Had sped from Amram's sons the word of power;
Nor fail'd the dreadful wand, whose godlike sway
Could lure the locust from her airy way;
With reptile war assail their proud abodes,
And mar the giant pomp of Egypt's gods.
Oh, helpless gods! who nought avail'd to shield
From fiery rain your Zoan's favour'd field!-
Oh, helpless gods! who saw the curdled blood
Taint the pure lotus of your ancient flood,
And four-fold night the wondering earth enchain,
While Memnon's orient harp was heard in vain!—
Such musings held the tribes, till now the west
With milder influence on their temples prest;
And that portentous cloud, which all the day
Hung its dark curtain o'er their weary way,
(A cloud by day, a friendly flame by night,)
Roll'd back its misty veil, and kindled into light!-
Soft fell the eve :-But, ere the day was done,
Tall waving banners streak'd the level sun;
And wide and dark along the horizon red,
In sandy surge the rising desert spread."Mark, Israel, mark !"-On that strange sight intent, In breathless terror, every eye was bent;
And busy faction's fast-increasing hum,
And female voices shriek, "They come! they come!"
They come, they come, in scintillating show
O'er the dark mass the brazen lances glow;
And sandy clouds in countless shapes combine,
As deepens or extends the long tumultuous line ;-
And fancy's keener glance e'en now may trace
The threatening aspects of each mingled race:
For many a coal-black tribe and cany spear,
The hireling guards of Misraim's throne, were there.
From distant Cush they troop'd, a warrior train,
Siwah's green isle and Sennaar's marly plain :
On either wing their fiery coursers check
The parch'd and sinewy sons of Amalek:
While close behind, inured to feast on blood,
Deck'd in Behemoth's spoils, the tall Shangalla strode.
'Mid blazing helms and bucklers rough with gold,
Saw ye how swift the scythed chariots roll'd?
Lo, these are they whom, lords of Afric's fates,
Old Thebes hath pour'd through all her hundred gates,
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