ON THE DEATH OF C. T. TORREY.

What! shall one monk, scarce known

beyond his cell,

Front Rome's far-reaching bolts, and WOE worth the hour when it is crime

scorn her frown?

Brave Luther answered YES; that thun

der's swell

To plead the poor dumb bondman's

cause,

When all that makes the heart sublime, Rocked Europe, and discharmed the The glorious throbs that conquer time,

triple crown.

Whatever can be known of earth we know,

Sneered Europe's wise men, in their
snail-shells curled;

No! said one man in Genoa, and that
Νο

Out of the dark created this New
World.

Who is it will not dare himself to trust?
Who is it hath not strength to stand
alone?

Who is it thwarts and bilks the inward
MUST?

Are traitors to our cruel laws!

spun,

And now thou givest to thy son
The stranger's charity, a grave.

He and his works, like sand, from Must it be thus forever? No!

earth are blown.

ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF DR. CHANNING.

The poet's clearer eye should see, in all And lives unwithered in its sinewy Earth's seeming woe, the seed of

The prodigal soul from want and sorrow | Thou knowest how much a gentle soul

O Love Divine, that claspest our tired If thou wouldst learn how truly great