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 No! said one man in Genoa, and that Out of the dark created this New Who is it will not dare himself to trust? Who is it thwarts and bilks the inward Are traitors to our cruel laws! spun, And now thou givest to thy son He and his works, like sand, from Must it be thus forever? No! earth are blown. ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF DR. CHANNING. 105 The poet's clearer eye should see, in all And lives unwithered in its sinewy Earth's seeming woe, the seed of youth, |