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I speak but with the people's voice,
I see but with the people's eye."-
Words of imposing pride and strength;
Words that contain, in little span,
The secret of the height and length
Of all the intelligence of man.

Yet, brothers! God has given to few,
Through the long progress of our kind,
To read with eyes undimmed and true
The blotted book of public mind;
To separate from the moment's will
The heart's enduring, real desires;
To tell the steps of coming ill,

And seek the good the time requires.

These are the prophets, these the kings.
And lawgivers of human thought,
Who in our being's deepest springs

The engines of their might have sought; Whose utterance comes, we know not whence, Being no more their own than ours,

With instantaneous evidence

Of titles just and sacred powers.

But bold usurpers may arise

Of this as of another's throne;
Persuasion waits upon the wise,
But waits not on the wise alone:

An echo of your evil self

No better than the voice can be, And appetites of fame or pelf

Grow not in good as in degree.

Then try the speaker, try the cause,
With prudent care, as men who know
The subtle nature of the laws

By which our feelings ebb and flow:
Lest virtue's void and reason's lack

Be hid beneath a specious name,
And on the people's helpless back
Rest all the punishment and shame.

Thomas Hood.

THE DREAM OF EUGENE ARAM.1

WAS in the prime of summer time,

"TWA

An evening calm and cool,

And four-and-twenty happy boys

Came bounding out of school;

There were some that ran and some that leaped,
Like troutlets in a pool.

Away they sped with gamesome minds,

And souls untouched by sin;

To a level mead they came, and there
They drave the wickets in:
Pleasantly shone the setting sun

Over the town of Lynn.

The late Admiral Burney went to school at an establishment where the unhappy Eugene Aram was usher, subsequent to his crime. The admiral stated, that Aram was generally liked by the boys; and that he used to discourse to them about murder, in somewhat of the spirit which is attributed to him in this poem.

Like sportive deer they coursed about,
And shouted as they ran,

Turning to mirth all things of earth,
As only boyhood can;

But the usher sat remote from all,
A melancholy man!

His hat was off, his vest apart,

To catch heaven's blessed breeze;

For a burning thought was in his brow,
And his bosom ill at ease;

So he leaned his head on his hands, and read

The book between his knees!

Leaf after leaf he turned it o'er,

Nor ever glanced aside;

For the peace of his soul he read that book

In the golden eventide:

Much study had made him very lean,

And pale, and leaden-eyed.

At last he shut the ponderous tome;
With a fast and fervent grasp
He strained the dusky covers close,
And fixed the brazen hasp:
"O God, could I so close my mind,
And clasp it with a clasp!"

Then leaping on his feet upright,

Some moody turns he took—

Now up the mead, then down the mead,
And past a shady nook-
And, lo! he saw a little boy

That pored upon a book!

"My gentle lad, what is't

Romance or fairy tale ?

Or is it some historic page,

you

read

Of kings and crowns unstable?"

The young boy gave an upward glance

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"It is The Death of Abel.""

The usher took six hasty strides,
As smit with sudden pain-
Six hasty strides beyond the place,
Then slowly back again;

And down he sat beside the lad,
And talked with him of Cain.

He told how murderers walked the earth,
Beneath the curse of Cain-

With crimson clouds before their eyes,
And flames about their brain:
For blood has left upon their souls

Its everlasting stain!

"And well," quoth he, "I know, for truth,

Their pangs must be extreme

Woe, woe, unutterable woe

Who spill life's sacred stream!

For why? Methought, last night, I wrought A murder in a dream!

"One that had never done me wrong—

A feeble man, and old;

I led him to a lonely field,

The moon shone clear and cold:

'Now here,' said I, 'this man shall die, And I will have his gold!'

"Two sudden blows with a ragged stick, And one with a heavy stone,

One hurried gash with a hasty knife-
And then the deed was done :
There was nothing lying at my foot
But lifeless flesh and bone.

"Nothing but lifeless flesh and bone,
That could not do me ill;

And I feared him all the more, yet

For lying there so still:

There was a manhood in his look,
That murder could not kill!

"And, lo! the universal air
Seemed lit with ghastly flame-
Ten thousand thousand dreadful eyes
Were looking down in blame :

I took the dead man by the hand,

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O God, it made me quake to see
Such sense within the slain !

But when I touched the lifeless clay,

The blood gushed out amain! For every clot, a burning spot

Was scorching in my brain!

"And now from forth the frowning sky, From the heaven's topmost height, I heard a voice-the awful voice

Of the blood-avenging sprite :— "Thou guilty man! take up thy dead And hide it from my sight!'

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