'Tis done! obedient to the high decree
Wave parts from wave, and sea rolls back from sea;
Till, sudden check'd as by the wintry hand
Of the stern North, the solid waters stand.
The pillar'd flames, while gathering darkness falls,
Shed passing radiance on the crystal walls;
And now those caves, where dwelt primeval Night,
Drink the warm spirit of the orient light ;
Swift through th' abyss the pure effulgence flies,
And earth's foundations burst on human eyes.
But see! where Egypt comes! with steed and car,
And thousands, panting for the spoils of war;
Bold waves her plume, and proud her banners gleam,
As now they bask'd in Vict'ry's golden beam;
The war-trump speaks, madd'ning she spurns the shores,
And through the yawning surges headlong pours.
But where is Egypt now? Where all her might,
Her steeds, her cars, her thousands arm'd for fight?
Where is the banner'd pride that waved so high?
And where the trump that told of victory?
All, all are past; the chain'd and fetter'd deep,
Loosed from its bonds, at one tremendous sweep
Whelm'd all their hopes, and not a wreck is seen,
To tell to future times that they had been.—
ROLLESTON-Oxford Prize Poem
'Twas night, and the farmer his fire-side near, O'er his pipe quaff'd his ale stout and old;
The hinds were in bed, when a voice shook his ear,
Let me in I beseech you!" just so ran the prayer :-
"Let me in:-I am dying with cold."
To his servant, the farmer cried-" Sue, move thy feet,
Admit the poor wretch from the storm;
For our chimney will not lose a jot of its heat,
Although the night wanderer may there find a seat,
And beside our wood-embers grow warm."
At that instant a gipsey-girl humble in pace
Bent before him his pity to crave:
He starting exclaim'd, "Wicked fiend quit this place,
A parent's curse light on the whole gipsey race!
They have bow'd me almost to the grave."
"Good Sir, as our tribe pass'd the church-yard below,
I just paused the tuft groves to survey;-
I fancied the spot where my mother lies low,
When suddenly came on a thick fall of snow—
And I knew not a step of my way."
"This is craft!” cried the farmer," if I judge aright,
I suspect thy cursed gang may
Thou would'st open the doors to the ruffians at night,
Thy eyes o'er the plunder now rove with delight,
And on me with sly treachery leer!"
With a shriek on the floor the young gipsey-girl fell,
"Help," cried Susan," your child to uprear!
Your long-stolen child!—she remembers you well,
And the terrors and joys in her bosom which swell
Are too mighty for nature to bear!"
An Atheist-he hath never faced an hour,
And not belied the name he bore.
Is darkness from the unbelieving Will
Begot, and oft a parasite to sin
Too dear to be deserted,--for the truth
That unveils Heaven, and her immortal thrones,
Uncovers Hell, and awful duties too!
Meanwhile, I flatter the surpassing fool;
And hear him challenge God to bare his brow,
Unsphere some orb, and show Him all sublime.
He challenge Heaven!—an atom against worlds!
Why, Angels and Archangels, who have sat
Within the shadow of His throne, and felt
The beams of an emitted glory burn
Around them, cannot comprehend His might,
Nor fathom His perfections :- -what is Man!
If Nature fail, then Reason may despair; The universe is stamped with God; who sees Creation, and can no Creator view,To him Philosophy shall preach in vain : A blinded nature, and a blasted mind Are his; Eternity shall teach the rest!Yet, who the summer that bright season-queen, Hath hail'd, beheld the march of midnight worlds, The sun in glory, or his skiey realm, When thunder-demons are abroad again, And riding on the chariot roll of clouds! Who that hath seen the ocean-terrors swell, Or, moonshine rippling o'er the rocking waves In smiles of beauty,all this living might, And motion, grace and majesty of things, Nor caught some impulse that believing hearts Might share, and crown it with a creed sublime? MONTGOMERY'S Satan.
DESCRIPTION OF A THUNDER STORM.
How awfully sublime the lengthened roar
Of the hoarse-throated thunder, when it rolls
Amid a mass of clouds :-the first faint sound
Prophetic of its coming-then the loud,
The deafening peal more near,-hasting along
As if with wrathful speed, or muttering slow,-
Till dying dull away, it leaves behind
A trem'lous echo mocking!
How swiftly fierce it seems to span the sky,
When black with clouds of night;---'tis here,---'tis gone, Swifter than thought, and leaving far behind
Weak, dazzled, aching sight!
There,---there, it shone,--
One vivid gleam stretching from North to South,
As a huge crimson banner floating free!
Fancy might picture there the horrid strife
Of demons warring to regain the state
So long time lost; that then they tore away
Part of the cloudy barrier which conceals
Their ancient Home from view; and through the thin
And misty covering glimmer'd forth awhile
Some tokens of the splendour which for e'er
Reigns in that blissful place.---Again,---again,---
It sudden darts, with strange contorted streak,
As if in fissures Heav'n's foundation broke
To give the vengeance way!
And loudly as the Ocean roars, when o'er
It's heaving breast the strong winds drive along,
Stirring it up to fury ;---harshly grand
The thunder urges past;---now loud,---now faint ;--
Rising and falling on th'attentive ear,
As wave succeeding wave upon the deep.
'Tis hush'd;---the rain with pattering sound
Falls hastily to cheer the parched earth---
A welcome boon to thirsty vegetation!
How singular this scene !---now veiled in gloom,
Too deep for eye to pierce ;---and sudden, then,
As at a secret signal, brilliant lights
Dashing athwart the sky, distinctly show
The vast, unwieldy coursers of the air,
In sombre moodiness slow moving on,
As in a boundless amphitheatre
Acting some mystic pageant silently!
Again th' horizon glows with fiery tints.
Farther removed, and fainter, starting up
With flickering speed, as if some mighty fire
Were slowly dying for the want of fuel.--
Again the thunder roils with undulation,
Speaking in mellowed tones, of its retreat
From hence to other sphere.
HYMN BEFORE SUNRISE IN THE VALE OF
CHAMOUNI.
Hast thou a charm to stay the Morning Star
In his steep course? So long he seems to pause
On thy bald awful head, O sovran BLANC!
The Arve and Arveiron at thy base
Rave ceaselessly; but thou most awful Form!
Risest from forth thy silent Sea of Pines,
How silently! Around thee and above
Deep is the air and dark, substantial, black,
An ebon mass: methinks thou piercest it,
As with a wedge ! But when I look again,
It is thine own calm home, thy crystal shrine,
Thy habitation from eternity!
O dread and silent mount! I gazed upon thee
Till thou still present to the bodily sense
Didst vanish from my thought: entranced in prayer
I worshipp'd the Invisible alone.
Yet like some sweet beguiling melody,
So sweet we know not we are listening to it,
Thou, the meanwhile, wast blending with my Thought,
Yea, with my Life and Life's own secret Joy:
Till the dilating soul, enrapt, transfused,
Into the mighty Vision passing-there
As in her natural form, swell'd vast to Heaven!
Awake my soul! not only passive praise
Thou owest! not alone these swelling tears,
Mute thanks and secret ecstacy! Awake,
Voice of sweet song! Awake, my heart, awake!
Green Vales and icy Cliffs, all join my Hymn.
Thou first and chief, sole Sovran of the Vale!
O struggling with the Darkness all the night,
And visited all night by troops of stars,
Or when they climb the sky or when they sink;
Companion of the Morning-Star at dawn,
Thyself Earth's RosY STAR, and of the dawn
Co-herald wake, O wake, and utter praise !
Who sank thy sunless pillars deep in earth?
Who fill'd thy countenance with rosy light?
Who made thee parent of perpetual streams?
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