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4. Thy chains the unmeasured universe surround,

Upheld by thee, by thee inspired with breath
Thou the beginning with the end hast bound,

And beautifully mingled life and death!
As sparks mount upward from the fiery blaze,

So suns are born, so worlds spring forth from thee; And as the spangles in the sunny rays

Shine round the silver snow, the păgeantry Of heaven's bright army glitters in thy praise.

5. A million torches, lighted by thy hand,

Wander unwearied through the blue abyss ;
They own thy power, accomplish thy command,

All gay with life, all eloquent with bliss.
What shall we call them? — Piles of crystal light?

A glorious company of golden streams ?
Lamps of celestial ether, burning bright?

Suns lighting systems with their joyous beams! But thou to these art as the noon to night.

6. Yes! as a drop of water in the sea,

All this magnificence in thee is lost;
What are ten thousand worlds compared to thee?

And what am I, then? Heaven's unnumbered hos? Though multiplied by myriads, and arrayed

In all the glory of sublimest thought,
Is but an atom in the balance, weighed

Against thy greatness, — is a cipher brought
Against infinity! 0, what am I, then ? — Naught.

7. Naught! But the effluence of thy light divine,

Pervading worlds, hath reached my bosom too ;
Yes! in my spirit doth thy Spirit shine,

As shines the sunbeam in a drop of dew.33
Naught' -- but I live, and on hope's pinions fly
· Eager towarde thy presence; for in thee
I live, anu breathe, and dwell ; aspiring high,

Even to the throne of thy divinity.
I am, 117 O God, and surely thou must be'

8. Thou art! directing, guiding all. Thou art !

Direct my understanding, then, to thee;
Control my spirit, guide my wandering heart :

Though but an atom ’mid immensity,
Still I am something fashioned by thy hand !

I hold a middle rank 'twixt heaven and earth,
On the last verge of mortal being stand,

Close to the realms where ängels have their hirth
Just on the boundary of the spirit-land !

9. The chain of being is complete in me ;

In me is matter's last gradation lost;
And the next step is spirit, - Deity!

I can command the lightning, and am dust!
A monarch, and a slave! a worm, a god!

Whence came I here, and how? so marvellously
Constructed and conceived ! Unknown - This clod

Lives surely through some higher energy!
For from itself alone it could not be !

10. Creator, yes! thy wisdom and thy word

Created me! thou Source of life and good !
Thou Spirit of my spirit, and my Lord !

Thy light, thy love, in their bright plenitudo,
Filled me with an immortal soul, to spring

O'er the abyss of death, and băde it wear
The garments of eternal day, and wing

Its heavenly flight beyond this little sphere,60
Even to its Source - to thee ~ its Author, there.

11. O thoughts ineffable! O visions blest!

Though worthless our conceptions all of thee,
Yet shall thy shadowed image fill our breast,

And waft its homage to thy Deity.
God! thus alone my lowly thoughts can soar ;

Thus seek thy presence, Being wise and good!
'Midst thy vast works admire, obey, adore !
And when the tongue is eloquent no more,
The soul shall speak in tears of gratitude.


1 'Tis not enough the voice be sound and clear,-

'Tis modulation 117 that must charm the ear.
When desperate heroines grieve with tedious moan
And whinel03 their sorrows in a see-saw tone,
The same soft sounds of unimpassioned woes
Can only make the yawning hearers doze.

2. That voice all modes of passion can express

Which marks the proper word with proper stress ;
But none emphatic can the reader call,
Who lays an equal emphasisus on all.

3. Some o'er the tongue the labored measures roll

Slow and deliberate as the parting toll ;
Point every stop, mark every pause so strong,
Their words like stage-processions stalk along.

All affectation but creates disgust,
And even in speaking we may seem too just.

4. In vain for them the pleasing measure flows,

Whose recitation runs it all to prose;
Repeating what the poet sets not down,
The verb disjoining from its friendly noun,
While pause, and break, and repetition joins
To make a discord in each tūneful line.

5 Some plăcid natures fill the allotted scene

With lifeless drone, insipid and serene ;
While others thunder every couplet o’er,
And almost crack your ears with rant and roar.

6. More nature oft and finer strokes are shown

In the low whisper than tempestuous tone :
And Hamlet's hollow voice and fixed amaze
More powerful terror to the mind conveys,
Than he, who, swollen with big impetuous rage,
Bullies the bulky phantom off the stage.

7. He who in earnest studies o'er his part

Will find true nature cling about his heart.
The modes of grief are not included all

In the white handkerchief and mournful drawl | A single look more marks the internal woe

Than all the windings of the lengthened O!
Up to the face the quick sensation flies,
And darts its meaning from the speaking eyes ;
Love, transport, madness, anger, scorn, despair,
And all the passions, all the soul is there.


1. THERE was hope in the Ark at the dawning of das,

When o’er the wide waters the Dove flew away,
But when ere the night she came wearily back
With the leaf she had plucked on her desolate truck
The children of Noah knelt down and adored,
And uttered in anthems their praise to the Lord
O, bird of glad tidings! 0, joy in our pain!
Beautiful Dove! thou art welcome again.

2 When Peace has departed the care-stricken breast,

And the feet of the weary one languish for rest;
When the world is a wide-spreading ocean of grief.
How blest the return of the Bird and the Leaf!

Reliance on God is the Dove to our Ark,
And Peace is the olive she plucks in the dark.
The deluge abates, there is sun after rain -
Beautiful Dove! thou art welcome again!



1. BEING allowed for once to speak, I would fain take the opnor. tunity to set forth how ill, in all respects, we stomachs are used. From the beginning to the end of life, we are either afflicted with too little or too much, or not the right thing, or things which are horribly disagreeable to us; or are otherwise thrown into a state of discomfort. I do not think it proper to take up a moment in bewailing the Too Little, for that is an evil which is never the fault12 of our masters, but rather the result of their misfortunes; and indeed we would sometimes feel as if it were a relief from other kinds of distress, if we were put upon short allowance for a few days. But we conceive ourselves to have matter for a true bill against mankind in respect of the Too Much, which is always a voluntarily-incurred evil.

2. What a pity that in the progʻress of discovery we can not establish some means of a good understanding between mankind and their stomachs; for really the effects of their non-acquaintance are most vexatious. Human beings seem to be, to this day, completely in the dark as to what they ought to take at any time, and err almost as often from ignorance as from depraved appetite. Sometimes, for instance, when we of the inner house are rather weakly, they will send us down an article that we only could deal with when in a state of robust health. Sometimes, when we would require mild semi-farinaceous or vegetable diet, they will persist in all the most stimulating and irritating of viands.

3. What sputtering we poor stomachs have when mistakes of that kind occur! What remarks we indulge in, regarding our masters! “ What's this, now ?will a stomach-genius say; “ah, detestable stuff! What a ridiculous fellow that man is! Will he never learn? Just the very thing I did not want. If he would only send down a bowl of fresh leek soup, or barley broth, there would be some sense in it:” and so on. If we had only been allowed to give the slightest hint now and then, liko faithful servants as we are, from how many miseries might w have saved both our masters and ourselves !

4. I have been a stomach for about forty years, during all of which time I have endeavored to do my duty faithfully and puno

tually. My master, however, is so reckless, that I would defy any stomach of ordinary ability and capacity to get along please anily with him. The fact is, like almost all other men, he, in his eating and drinking, considers his own pleasure only, and never once reflects on the poor wretch who has to be responsible for the disposal of everything down stairs. Scarcely on any day does he fail to exceed the strict rule of temperance; nay, there is scarcely a single meal which is altogether what it ought to be, either in its constituents or its general amount. My life is therefore one of continual worry and fret; I am never off the drudge from morning till night, and have not a moment in the four-and-twenty hours that I can safely call my own.

5. My greatest trial takes place in the evening, when my master has dined. If you only saw what a mess this said dinner is, - soup, fish, flesh, fowl, ham, curry, rice, potatoes, table-beer, sherry, tart, pudding, cheese, bread, all mixed up together. I am accustomed to the thing, so don't feel much shocked; but my master himself would faint at the sight. The slave of dūty in all circumstances, I call in my friend Gastric Juice, Ei and to it we set, with as much good-will as if we had the most agreeable task in the world before us. But, unluckily, my master has an impression very firmly fixed upon him that our business is apt to be vastly promoted by an hour or two's drinking, so he continues at table amongst his friends, and pours me down some bottle and a half of wine, perhaps of various sorts, that bothers Gastric Juice and me to a degree which no one can have any conception of.

6. In fact, this said wine undoes our work almost as fast as we do it, besides blinding and poisoning us poor genii into the bargain. On many occasions I am obliged to give up my task for the time altogether ; for while this vīnous shower is going on I would defy the most vigorous stomach in the world to make any advance in its business worth speaking of. Sometimes things go to a much greater length than at others; and my master will paralyze us in this manner for hours, — not always, indeed, with wine, but occasionally with punch, one ingredient of which the lemon- is particularly odious to us ministers of the interior. All this time I can hear him jollifying away at a great rate, drinking healths to his neighbors, and ruining his own.

7. I am a lover of early hours — as are my brethren generally. To this we are very much disposed by the extremely hard work which we usually undergo during the day. About ten o'clock, having, perhaps, at that time, got all our labors past, and feeling fatigued and exhausted, we like to sink into repose, not to be again disturbed till next morning at breakfast-timo. Well how it may be with others I can't tell; but so it is, that

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