Imatges de pÓgina

tures, which requires more than mortal efforts to overcome, and the Almighty God has graciously been pleased to impart unto his mortal children, the means of emancipating the soul from this horrid fear.

" Why this astonishment on every face,
* Ye men of Sparta ? does the name of death
“ Create this fear and wonder ? O my friends!
" Why do we labour thro' the arduous paths
« Which lead to virtue? Fruitless were the toil,
“ Above the reach of human feet were plac'd
« The distant summit, if the fear of death
“ Could intercept our passage. But in vain
" His blackest frowns and terrors he assumes
• To shake the firmness of the mind, which knows
“ That, wanting virtue, life is pain and woe';
* That, wanting liberty, ev’n virtue mourns,
" And looks around for happiness in vain.
“ Then speak, O Sparta, and demand my life;
* My heart exulting, answers to thy call,
“ And smiles on glorious fate. To live with fame

The God's allow to many; but to die
• With equal lustre, is a blessing heav'n
“ Selects from all the choicest boons of fate,
“ And with a sparing hand on few bestows."

Who would not think and act with Leonidas ? none but the base-born, low, and groveling sons f men, who wish to continue in the gloom of norance and superstition ; because, like the owl, they cannot bear the light of day, and like the ravening brood of locusts, that sometimes sweep the clouds of destruction over all the plains of Egypt, seek to extract, devour, and consume the small portion of vital good, that yet is able to hold together the bonds of society, and render life desirable.


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"O thou for ages born, yet ever young,
« For ages may thy Bramin's lay be sung!
" And, when thy lory spreads his em' rald wings
“ To waft thee high above the tow'rs of King's,

“Whilst o'er thy throne the moon's pale light
“ Pours her soft radiance thro' the night,
« And to each floating cloud discovers

“ The haunts of blest or joyless lovers, « The mildest influence to thy bard impart, " To warm, but not consume, his heart."

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