THE ASCENSION.

And arched in squadrons bright, Greet their great Victor in his capitol.

Oh, glory of the heaven!

Oh, sole delight of earth!
To thee all power be given,
God's uncreated birth:

Of mankind lover true,

Endurer of his wrong,

Who dost the world renew,

Still be thou our salvation and our song!

From top of Olivet such notes did rise,
When man's Redeemer did ascend the skies.

*Died 1649.

William Drummond.*

243

Ascended into Heaven.

RISE glorious, Conqueror, rise
Into thy native skies,-

Assume thy right;

And when in many a fold

The clouds are backward rolled

Pass through the gates of gold,

And reign in light!

Victor o'er death and hell!

Cherubic legions swell

The radiant train:

Praises all heaven inspire;
Each angel sweeps his lyre,
And waves his wings of fire,

Thou lamb once slain!

Enter incarnate God!

No feet but thine have trod

The serpent down:

Blow the full trumpets, blow!

Wider your portals throw!
Saviour triumphant—go,

And take thy crown.

From "The Dead Pan."

GOD's bereaved, God's belated,-
With your purples rent asunder!
Gods discrowned and desecrated,
Disinherited of thunder!

Now the goats may climb and crop
The soft grass on Ida's top-

Now Pan is dead.

Calm as eve the bark went onward, When a cry more loud than wind Rose up; deepened and swept seaward, From the piled dark behind:

And the sun shrank and grew pale,

Breathed against by the great wail-
Pan, Pan is dead.

And the rowers from the beaches

Fell,-each shuddering on his face

While departing influences.

Struck a cold back through the place: And the shadow of the ship

Reeled along the passive deep

Pan, Pan is dead.

FROM "THE DEAD PAN." And that dismal cry rose slowly,

And sank slow through the air; Full of spirit's melancholy,

And eternity's despair!

And they heard the words it said—
Pan is dead-Great Pan is dead-
Pan, Pan is dead.

'Twas the hour when One in Sion
Hung for Love's sake on a cross—
When his brow was chill with dying,
And his soul was faint with loss;

When his priestly blood dropped downward;
And his kingly eyes looked throneward

Then Pan was dead.

By the love he stood alone in,

His sole Godhead stood complete;

And the false gods fell down moaning,
Each from off his golden seat-

All the false gods with a cry

Rendered up their deity

Pan, Pan was dead.

*

*

Earth outgrows the mystic fancies
Sung beside her in her youth:

And those debonair romances

Sound but dull beside the truth.

*

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