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That rose to them in blood, and set in glory.
Here let us meet; and while our motionless lips
Give not a sound, and all around is mute
In the deep sabbath of a heart too full
For words or tears — here let us strew the sod
With the first flowers of spring, and make to them
An offering of the plenty Nature gives,
And they have rendered ours perpetually.
Satan's Address to Beelzebub.-MILTON.
If thou beest he; — but oh! how fallen! how changed
From him who, in the happy realms of light,
Clothed with transcendent brightness, didst outshine
Myriads though bright! If he whom mutual league,
United thoughts and counsels, equal hope,
And hazard in the glorious enterprise,
Joined with me once, now misery hath joined
In equal ruin! Into what pit thou seest
From what height fallen; so much the stronger proved
He with his thunder; and till then who knew
The force of those dire arms ? Yet not for those,
Nor what the potent Victor in his rage
Can else inflict, do I repent or change,
Though changed in outward lustre, that fixed mind,
And high disdain from sense of injured merit,
That with the Mightiest raised me to contend,
And to the fierce contention brought along
Innumerable force of spirits armed,
That durst dislike his reign, and, me preferring,
His utmost power with adverse power opposed
In dubious battle on the plains of heaven,
And shook his throne. What though the field be lost ?
All is not lost: the unconquerable will,
And study of revenge, immortal hate,
And courage never to submit or yield,
And what is else not to be overcome;
That glory never shall his wrath or might
Extort from me. To bow and sue for grace
With suppliant knee, and deify his power,
Who from the terror of this arm so late
Doubted his empire; that were low indeed,
That were an ignominy, and shame beneath
This downfall: since by fate the strength of gods
And this empyreal substance cannot fail ;
Since through experience of this great event
In arms not worse, in foresight much advanced,
may with more successful hope resolve
To wage by force or guile eternal war,
Irreconcilable to our grand foe,
Who now triumphs, and, in the excess of joy
Sole reigning, holds the tyranny of heaven.
The Coliseum by Moonlight.—BYRON.
The stars are forth, the moon above the tops
Of the snow-shining mountains. Beautiful !
I linger yet with Nature, for the night
Hath been to me a more familiar face
Than that of man ; and in her starry shade
Of'dim and solitary loveliness,
I learned the language of another world.
I do remember me, that in my youth,
When I was wandering, - upon such a night
I stood within the Coliseum's wall,
Midst the chief relics of almighty Rome;
The trees which grew along the broken arches
Waved dark in the blue midnight, and the stars
Shone through the rents of ruin; from afar
The watch-dog bayed beyond the Tiber; and
More near from out the Cæsar's palace came
The owl's long cry; and, interruptedly,
Of distant sentinels the fitful song
Began and died upon the gentle wind.
Some cypresses, beyond the time-worn breach,
Appeared to skirt the horizon, yet they stood
Within a bowshot, - where the Cæsars dwelt,
And dwell the tuneless birds of night, amidst
grove which springs through level battlements,
And twines its roots with the imperial hearths ;
Ivy usurps the laurel's place of growth ;
But the Gladiator's bloody Circus stands,
A noble wreck in ruinous perfection !
While Cæsar's chambers, and the Augustan halls,
Grovel on earth in indistinct decay.
And thou didst shine, thou rolling moon, upon
All this, and cast a wide and tender light,
Which softened down the hoar austerity
Of rugged desolation, and filled up,
As 't were anew, the gaps of centuries;
Leaving that beautiful which still was so,
And making that which was not, till the place
Became religion, and the heart ran o'er
With silent worship of the great of old ! —
The dead, but sceptred sovereigns, who still rule
Our spirits from their urns.
'T was such a night! *T is strange that I recall it at this time; But I have found our thoughts take wildest flight Even at the moment when they should array Themselves in pensive order.
Immortality.-R. H. DANA,» SEN.
Is this thy prison-house, thy grave, then, Love ?
And doth Death cancel the great bond that holds
Commingling spirits ? Are thoughts that know no bounds,
But, self-inspired, rise upward, searching out
The Eternal Mind, - the Father of all thought, - 5
Are they become mere tenants of a tomb ? -
Dwellers in darkness, who the illuminate realms
Of uncreated light have visited, and lived ?
Lived in the dreadful splendor of that throne,
Which One, with gentle hand, the veil of flesh
Lifting that hung 'twixt man and it, revealed
In glory ? -- throne, before which, even now,
Our souls, moved by prophetic power, bow down,
Rejoicing, yet at their own tures awed ?
Souls, that Thee know by a mysterious sense,
15 Thou awful, unseen Presence! are they quenched ? Or borne they on, hid from our mortal eyes By that bright day which ends not; as the sun His robe of light flings round the glittering stars ?
And with our frames do perish all our loves ? 20 Do those that took their root, and put forth buds, And their soft leaves unfolded, in the warmth Of mutual hearts, grow up and live in beauty,
Then fade and fall like fair unconscious flowers ? 24
Are thoughus and passions, that to the tongue give speech,
And make it send forth winning harmonies, –
That to the cheek do give its living glow,
And vision in the eye the soul intense
With that for which there is no utterance,
Are these the body's accidents ?- no more ?
30 To live in it, and, when that dies, go out Like the burnt taper's flame?
Oh! listen, man! A voice within us speaks that startling word, “Man, thou shalt never die!” Celestial voices
35 Hymn it unto our souls ; according harps, By angel fingers touched, when the mild stars Of morning sang together, sound forth still The
song of our great immortality : Thick clustering orbs, and this our fair domain, The tall, dark mountains, and the deep-toned seas, Join in the solemn, universal song. Oh! listen, ye, our spirits: drink it in From all the air. 'Tis in the gentle moonlight; 'Tis floating midst Day's setting glories; Night,
45 Wrapped in her sable robe, with silent step Comes to our bed, and breathes it in our ears : Night, and the dawn, bright day, and thoughtful eve, All time, all bounds, the limitless expanse, As one vast mystic instrument, are touched By an unseen, living Hand, and conscious chords Quiver with joy in this great jubilee. The dying hear it; and, as sounds of earth Grow dull and distant, wake their passing souls To mingle in this heavenly harmony.