They touch our country, and their shackles fall.
That's noble, and bespeaks a nation proud
And jealous of the blessing. Spread it then,
And let it circulate through ev'ry vein
Of all your empire: that where Britain's power
Is felt, mankind may feel her mercy too.
The Cuckoo.-LOGAN.
1. HAIL, beauteous stranger of the wood,
Attendant on the spring!
Now heav'n repairs thy rural seat,
And woods thy welcome sing.
2. Soon as the daisy decks the green,
Thy certain voice we hear:
Hast thou a star to guide thy path,
Or mark the rolling year?
3. Delightful visitant! with thee
I hail the time of flow'rs,
When heav'n is fill'd with music sweet
Of birds among the bow'rs.
4. The school-boy wand'ring in the wood,
To pull the flow'rs so gay,
Starts, thy curious voice to hear,
And imitates thy lay.
3. Soon as the pea puts on the bloom,
Thou fly'st the vocal vale,
An annual guest in other lands,
Another spring to hail.
6. Sweet bird, thy bow'r is ever green,
Thy sky is ever clear;
Thou hast no sorrow in thy song,
No winter in thy year!
7. O could I fly, I'd fly with thee;
We'd make, with social wing,
Our annual visit o'er the globe,
Companions of the spring.
The Star of Bethlehem.-J. G. PERCIVAL.
1. BRIGHTER than the rising day,
When the sun of glory shines;
Brighter than the diamond's ray,
Sparkling in Golconda's* mines;
Beaming through the clouds of wo,
Smiles in Mercy's diadem
On the guilty world below,
The star that rose in Bethlehem.
2. When our eyes are dimmed with tears,
This can light them up again,
Sweet as music to our ears,
Faintly warbling o'er the plain.
Never shines a ray so bright
From the purest earthly gem;
O! there is no soothing light
Like the Star of Bethlehem.
3. Grief's dark clouds may o'er us roll,
Every heart may sink in wo,
Gloomy conscience rack the soul,
And sorrow's tears in torrents flow;
Still, through all these clouds and storms,
Shines this purest heavenly gem,
With a ray that kindly warms—
The Star that rose in Bethlehem.
4. When we cross the roaring wave
That rolls on life's remotest shore;
When we look into the grave,
And wander through this world no more;
This, the lamp whose genial ray,
Like some brightly-glowing gem,
Points to man his darkling way—
The Star that rose in Bethlehem.
6. Let the world be sunk in sorrow,
Not an eye be charmed or bless'd;
We can see a fair to-morrow
Smiling in the rosy west;
* A próvince in Hindoostan, now called Hyderabad, formerly celebrated for its diamond mines.
This, her beacon, Hope displays;
For, in Mercy's diadem,
Shines, with Faith's serenest rays,
The Star that rose in Bethlehera.
6. When this gloomy life is o'er,
When we smile in bliss above,
When, on that delightful shore,
We enjoy the heaven of love,-
O! what dazzling light shall shine
Round salvation's purest gem!
O! what rays of love divine
Gild the Star of Bethlehem!
The Last Man.-CAMPBELL.
ALL worldly shapes shall melt in gloom: The sun itself shall die,
Before this mortal shall assume
Its immortality.
2. I saw a vision in my sleep,
That gave my spirit strength to sweep
Adown the gulf of time;
I saw the last of human mould,
That shall creation's death behold,
As Adam saw the prime.
3. The sun's eye had a sickly glare;
The earth with age was wan;
The skeletons of nations were
Around that lonely man.
Some had expir'd in fight: the brands
Still rested in their bony hands;
In plague and famine, some;
Earth's cities had no sound, no tread;
And ships were drifting with their dead,
To shores where all was dumb.
4. Yet, prophet like, the lone one stood,
With dauntless words and high,
That shook the sere leaves from the wood
As if a storm pass'd by,
Saying, we're twins in death, proud sun,
Thy face is cold, thy race is run,
Mere Mercy bids thee go.
For thou, ten thousand thousand years,
Hast seen the tide of human tears,
That shall no longer flow.
5. What, though beneath thee, man put forth His pomp, his pride, his skill;
And arts that made wood, fire, and earth,
The vassals of his will;
Yet mourn I not thy parted sway,
Thou dim, discrowned king of day;
For all those trophied arts
And triumphs that beneath thee sprang,
Heal'd not a passion or a pang
Entail'd on human hearts.
6. Go, let oblivion's curtain fall
Upon the stage of men;
Nor with thy rising beams recall
Life's tragedy again.
Its motley pageants bring not back,
Nor waken flesh, upon the rack
Of pain, anew to writhe:
Stretch'd in disease's shapes abhorr'd,
Or mo .vn in battle by the sword,
Like grass beneath the scythe.
7 E'en I am weary, in yon skies,
To watch thy fading fire;
Test of all suniless agonies,
Behold not me expire.
My lips that speak thy dirge of death;
Their rounded gasp and gurgling breath,
To see thou shalt not boast.
The eclipse of nature spreads my pall,
The majesty of darkness shall
Receive my parting ghost.
8. This spirit shall return to him,
That gave its heavenly spark;
Yet think not, sun, it shall be dim
When thou thyself art dark.
No; it shall live again, and shine
In bliss unknown to beams of thine.
By Him recall'd to breath,
Who captive led captivity;
Who robb'd the grave of victory,
And pluck'd the sting of death.
9. Go sun, while mercy holds me up
On nature's awful waste,
To drink this last, this bitter cup
Of grief that man shall taste;
Go, tell the night that hides thy face,
Thou saw'st the last of Adam's race,
On earth's sepulchral clod,
The dark'ning universe defy
To quench his immortality,
Or shake his trust in God.
LESSON CLXII.
Picture of a Good Man.-YOUNG.
1. SOME angel guide my pencil, while I draw,
What nothing else than angel can exceed,
A man on earth devoted to the skies;
Like ships at sea, while in, above the world.
With aspect mild, and elevated eye,
Behold him seated on a mount serene,
Above the fogs of sense, and passion's storm;
All the black cares, and tumults of this life,
Like harmless thunders, breaking at his feet,
Excite his pity, not impair his peace.
2. Earth's genuine sons, the sceptred, and the slave. A mingled mob! a wand'ring herd! he sees, Bewilder'd in the vale; in all unlike;
His full reverse in all! What higher praise?
What stronger demonstration of the right?
The present all their care; the future his;
When public welfare calls, or private want,
They give to fame; his bounty he conceals.
Their virtues varnish nature; his exalt.
Mankind's esteem they court; and he his own.
3. Theirs the wild chase of false felicities ⚫
His, the composed possession of the true.
Alike throughout is his consistent piece,
All of one color, and an even thread;
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