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I hear the helpless wail, the shriek of wo;
I see the muddy wave, the dreary shore,
The sluggish streams that slowly creep below,
Which mortals visit and return no more.

Farewell, ye blooming fields! ye cheerful plains!
Enough for me the churchyard's lonely mound,
Where Melancholy with still Silence reigns,

And the rank grass waves o'er the cheerless ground.

There let me wander at the shut of eve,

When sleep sits dewy on the labourer's eyes; The world and all its busy follies leave,

And talk with Wisdom where my Daphnis lies.

There let me sleep forgotten in the clay,

When death shall shut these weary aching eyes; Rest in the hopes of an eternal day,

Till the long night is gone, and the last morn arise

LOGAN.

HYMN.

WHERE high the heavenly temple stands, The house of God not made with hands, A great High Priest our nature wears, The Patron of Mankind appears.

He who for men in mercy stood,
And poured on earth his precious blood,
Pursues in heaven his pian of grace,
The Guardian God of human race.

Though now ascended up on high,
He bends on earth a brother's eye,-
Partaker of the human name,
He knows the frailty of our frame

Our fellow-sufferer yet retains,
A fellow-feeling of our pains;
And still remembers in the skies,
His tears, and agnies, and cries

In every pang that rends the heart,
The Man of Sorrows had a part;
He sympathizes in our grief,
And to the sufferer sends relief.

With boldness, therefore, at the throne, Let us make all our sorrows known, And ask the aids of heavenly power, To help us in the evil hour.

SIR WILLIAM JONES.

AN ODE.

WHAT Constitutes a State?

Not high-raised battlement or laboured mound,
Thick wall or moated gate;

Not cities proud with spires and turrets crowned;
Not bays and broad-armed ports,

Where, laughing at the storm, rich navies ride;
Not starred and spangled courts,

Where low-browed baseness wafts perfume to pride.
No ;-men, high-minded men,

With powers as far above dull brutes endued
In forest, brake, or den,

As beasts excel cold rocks and brambles rude;

Men, who their duties know,

But know their rights, and, knowing, dare maintain,

Prevent the long-aimed blow,

And crush the tyrant while they rend the chain:

These constitute a State,

And sovereign Law, that State's collected will,

O'er thrones and globes elate

Sits Empress, crowning good, repressing ill;
Smit by her sacred frown

The fiend dissension like a vapour sinks,

And e'en th' all dazzling crown

Hides his faint rays, and at her bidding shrinks.
Such was this heaven-loved isle,

Than Lesbos fairer and the Cretan shore!
No more shall Freedom smile?

Shall Britons languish, and be men no more?
Since all must life resign,

Those sweet rewards which decorate the brave, "Tis folly to decline,

And steal inglorious to the silent grave,

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