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And bade his better feelings wake :
Why does he lift the cruel scourge? Then, sudden as the trodden snake
The restless pilgrimage why urge? On the scared traveller darts his fangs,
"Tis all to quell thy fiercer rage, The prophet's bold rebuke aroused thy keenest "Tis all to sooth thy deep despair, [bear. pangs.
He courts the body's pangs, for thine he cannot And O that look, that soft upbraiding look! See o'er the bleeding corse of her he loved, A thousand cutting, tender things it spoke,
The jealous murderer bends unmoved, The sword so lately drawn was not so keen, Trembling with rage, his livid lips express Which, as the injured Master turn'd him round, His frantic passion's wild and rash excess. In the strange solemn scene,
O God, she's innocent transfixt he stands, And the shrill clarion gave th' appointed sound, Pierced through with shafts from thine avenging Pierced sudden through the reins,
hands; Awakening all thy pains,
Down his pale cheek no tear will flow, And drew a silent shower of bitter tears
Nor can he shun, nor can he bear, his wo. Down Peter's blushing cheek, late pale with coward fears.
'Twas phantoms summon'd by thy power
Round Richard's couch at midnight hour, Cruel Remorse! where Youth and Pleasure That scared the tyrant from unblest repose ; sport,
With frantic haste, "To horse! to horse!” he cries, And thoughtless Folly keeps her court,
While on his crowned brow cold sweat-drops rise, Crouching midst rosy bowers thou lurk'st unseen ; And fancied spears his spear oppose ; Slumbering the festal hours away,
But not the swiftest steed can bear away While Youth disports in that enchanting scene; From thy firm grasp thine agonizing prey, Till on some fated day
Thou wast the fiend, and thou alone, Thon with a tiger-spring dost leap upon thy prey,
That stood'st by Beaufort's mitred head, And tear his helpless breast, o'erwhelm'd, with With upright hair and visage ghastly pale : wild dismay.
Thy terrors shook his dying bed, Mark that poor wretch with clasped hands! Past crimes and blood his sinking heart assail, Pale o'er his parent's grave he stands,
His hands are clasp'd,-hark to that hollow groan! The grave by his ingratitude prepared ;
See how his glazed, dim eye-balls wildly roll, Ah then, where'er he rests his head,
'Tis not dissolving Nature's pains; that pang is of On roses pillow'd or the softest down,
the soul. Though festal wreaths his temples crown, He well might envy Guatimozin's bed,
Where guilty souls are doom'd to dwell,
'Tis thou that makest their fiercest hell, With burning coals and sulphur spread,
The vulture thou that on their liver feeds, And with less agony his torturing hour have
As rise to view their past unhallow'd deeds; shared.
With thee condemn'd to stay,
Till time has rollid away
Long eras of uncounted years,
And every stain is wash'd in soft repentant tears. bedew'd,
Servant of God--but unbeloved-proceed, That o'er his follies yearn'd;
For thou must live and ply thy scorpion scourge : The warnings oft in vain renew'd,
Thy sharp upbraidings urge The looks of anguish and of love,
Against th' unrighteous deed, His stubborn breast that failed to move,
Till thine accursed mother shall expire, When in the scorner's chair he sat, and wholesome And a new world spring forth from renovating fire counsel spurn'd.
0! when the glare of day is filed, Lives there a man whose labouring breast
And calm, beneath the evening star, Is with some dark and guilty secret prest,
Reflection leans her pensive head, Who hides within its inmost fold
And calls the passions to her solemn bar; Strange crimes to mortal ear untold ?
Reviews the censure rash, the hasty word, In vain to sad Chartreuse he flies,
The purposed act too long deferr'd, Midst savage rocks and cloisters dim and drear, Of time the wasted treasures lent, And there to shun thee tries :
And fair occasions lost, and golden hours mispent: In vain untold his crime to mortal ear, Silence and whisper'd sounds but make thy voice When anxious Memory numbers o'er more clear.
Each offer'd prize we failed to seize ;
Or friends laid low, whom now no more Lo, where the cowled monk with frantic rage Our fondest love can serve or please, Lifts high the sounding scourge, his bleeding And thou, dread power! bring'st back, in terrors shoulders smites !
drest, Penance and fasts his anxious thoughts engage, Th' irrevocable past, to sting the careless breast; Weary his days and joyless are his nights, His naked feet the flinty pavement tears,
O! in that hour be mine to know, His knee at every shrine the marble wears ;- While fast the silent sorrows flow,
And wisdom cherishes the wholesome pain,
No heavier guilt, no deeper stain,
DEATH OF THE PRINCESS CHARLOTTE.
The portal opens-hark, a voice!
Again the sounding portals shake,
Along these melancholy walls
Yes, Britain mourns, as with electric touch,
And the wide peopled earth his praise proclaim; Then send it down to hell's deep glooms resounding,
(ing. Through all her caves in dreadful murmurs sound
He rules with wide and absolute command
And all creation hangs beneath his throne
He saw the struggling beams of infant light
And brooded o'er the kindling seeds of life:
The joyful sun sprung up th’ ethereal way, THE WAKE OF THE KING OF SPAIN..
Strong as a giant, as a bridegroom gay; Array'd in robes of regal state,
And the pale moon diffused her shadowy light But stiff and cold the monarch sate ;
Superior o'er the dusky brow of night;
| Ten thousand glittering lamps the skies adorning, In gorgeous vests, his chair beside, Stood prince and peer, the nation's pride ;
Numerous as dew-drops from the womb of morning And paladin and high-born dame
Earth's blooming face with rising flowers he drest, Their place amid the circle claim:
And spread a verdant mantle o'er her breast ; And wands of office lifted high,
Then from the hollow of his hand ne pours And arms and blazon'd heraldry,–
The circling water round her winding shores, All mute like marble statues stand,
The new-born world in their cool arms embracing, Nor raise the eye, nor move the hand :
And with soft murmurs still her banks caressing.
At length she rose complete in finish'd pride,
Fresh with untarnish'd lustre as she stood, • The kings of Spain for nine days after death are
Her Maker bless'd his work, and call'd it good; placed sitting in robes of state with their attendants around them, and solemnly summoned by the proper
| The morning stars with joyful acclamation officers to their meals and their amusements, as if living. I Exulting sang, and hail'd the new creation.
PIOUS FRIENDSHIP, How blest the sacred tie that binds In union sweet according minds! How swift the heavenly course they run, Whose hearts, whose faith, whose hopes are one!
To each, the soul of each how dear,
Their streaming tears together flow For human guilt and mortal wo; Their ardent prayers together rise, Like mingling flames in sacrifice.
Our dying Master stands!
Receive his last commands.
What tender accents fell!
Became its author well.
Feels all another's pain ;
Was never raised in vain.
A stranger's woes to feel;
He wants the power to heal.
To every child of grief;
And brings unask'd relief. “ To gentle offices of love
His feet are never slow:
A brother in a foe.
My peace to him I give;
His trembling soul shall live.
And mercy from above Descend on those who thus fulfil
The perfect law of love."
Together both they seek the place
Nor shall the glowing flame expire
HYMN VII. “Come unto me all that are weary and heavy laden, and
I will give you rest." I
Ye, by fiercer anguish torn, In remorse for guilt who mourn; Here repose your heavy care, A wounded spirit who can bear!
HYMN V. AWAKE, my soul! lift up thine eyes, See where thy foes against thee rise, In long array, a numerous host; Awake, my soul! or thou art lost. Here giant Danger threatening stands, Mustering his pale terrific bands ; There Pleasure's silken banners spread, And willing souls are captive led. See where rebellious passions rage, And fierce desires and lusts engage; The meanest foe of all the train Has thousands and ten thousands slain. Thou tread'st upon enchanted ground, Perils and snares beset thee round; Beware of all, guard every part, But most, the traitor in thy heart. “Come then, my soul, now learn to wield The weight of thine immortal shield ; ” Put on the armour from above Of heavenly truth and heavenly love. The terror and the charm repel, And powers of earth, and powers of hell; The Man of Calvary triumph'd here; Why should his faithful followers fear?
Sinner, come! for here is found Balm that flows for every wound: Peace, that ever shall endure, Rest eternal, sacred, sure.
HYMN VIII. "The world is not their friend, nur the world's law."
Lo where a crowd of pilgrims toil
Yon craggy steeps among! Strange their attire, and strange their mien,
As wild they press along.
Their eyes with bitter streaming tears
Now bent towards the ground, Now rapt, to heaven their looks they raise,
And bursts of song resound.
« The flowers that spring along the road,
We scarcely stoop to pluck; We walk o'er beds of shining ore
Nor waste one wishful look :
“We tread the path our Master trod,
We bear the cross he bore; And every thorn that wounds our feet,
His temples pierced before :
«Our powers are oft dissolved away
In ecstasies of love; And while our bodies wander here,
Our souls are fix'd above :
“ We purge our mortal dross away,
Refining as we run; But while we die to earth and sense,
Our heaven is begun."
A PASTORAL HYMN. “GENTLE pilgrim, tell me why Dost thou fold thine arms and sigh, And wistful cast thine eyes around ?Whither, pilgrim, art thou bound ?" “The road to Zion's gates I seek; If thou canst inform me, speak." “Keep yon right-hand path with care, Though crags obstruct, and brambles tear; You just discern a narrow track,Enter there and turn not back." “ Say where that pleasant pathway leads, Winding down yon flowery meads? Songs and dance the way beguiles, Every face is drest in smiles." « Shun with care that flowery way; "Twill lead thee, pilgrim, far astray.” “Guide or counsel do I need ?”. “Pilgrim, he who runs may read." " Is the way that I must keep, Cross'd by waters wide and deep?" “ Did it lead through flood and fire, Thou must not stop-thou must not tire. « Till I have my journey past, Tell me will the daylight last? Will the sky be bright and clear Till the evening shades appear ?" “ Though the sun now rides so high, Clouds may veil the evening sky; Fast sinks the sun, fast wears the day, Thou must not stop, thou must not stay: God speed thee, pilgrim, on thy way!"
HYMN IX. Joy to the followers of the Lord ! Thus saith the sure, the eternal word; Not of earth the joy it brings, Temper'd in celestial springs :
"Tis the joy of pardon'd sin, When conscience cries, 'Tis well within ; "Tis the joy that fills the breast When the passions sink to rest :
"Tis the joy that seated deep,