Vs.'- 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 
 i,^*^ 

 
 REDEMPTION; 
 
 THE 
 
 SONG OF THE SPIRIT OF HIRAM; 
 
 AND 
 
 OTHER POEMS. 
 
 BY RICHARD GOOCH, 
 
 OF ST. JOHN'S COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE. 
 
 it ***** * thf liour shall tome 
 " When all ihcsc spkuilours burstiiij; on my sight 
 " Shall sliind uiivfil'd, aii<l to my ravish'd stiise 
 " Unlock the glories «i' the world uultnoHn." 
 
 Anna LjETITIa Aikin. 
 
 LONDON: 
 PUBLISHED BY J. HEARNE, 81, STRAND. 
 
 MDCCCXXXII.
 
 VIZETELI.Y, BRANSTON AND CO., miNTEKS, 
 FLEET STEET, LONDON.
 
 pp. 
 
 Or X\Xy- 
 PREFACE. 
 
 J IIESE Poems are, in all likelihood, the last their author 
 will intriule upon the world. They are published with a 
 considerable degree of diffidence as to their literary pre- 
 tension, though by the advice of a friend, a highly-gifted 
 and successful writer. He has not, however, been without 
 some previous assurance of capability. For when, anxious 
 to ascertain if he possessed any power as a writer of poetry, 
 a portion of them, together with some other pieces, not 
 included in this volume, were submitted to the late 
 eminent Critic, the writer of the Baviad and Mceviad, for 
 his opinion, the encouraging remark was, " Let him go 
 on; there's genius." A similar meed of approbation was, 
 at the same time, awarded him by the late elegant and 
 profound Italian scholar, I'go Foscolo. That he has not be- 
 fore made his dclyut as a writer of poetry, may be attributed 
 to the indifferent degree of patronage of late extended to 
 aspirants in this seductive class of literature. Circum- 
 
 853'?'15
 
 IV PREFACE. 
 
 stances have now, however, induced him to wave all such 
 considerations ; and, if he should not appear " Minerva 
 /)ivifa," lie hopes to be pardoned the vanity of thus pre- 
 suming to raise his voice in praise of his Creator and 
 His handyworks, — may it be to the increase of a love of 
 Religion and Virtue ! The pieces of which this volume 
 consists, may, with truth, be said, rather to be the pro- 
 ductions of a few of his leisure hours, than regularly 
 studied compositions. He is, however, content to have 
 them received as faithful records of his mind and feelinp-s, 
 rather than as idle imaginings, in the production of 
 which the head and heart have had no share. And as 
 such he commits them to the Public, with whom it re- 
 mains to decide upon the merits of all claimants to 
 literary fame. To those friends who have so kindly 
 encouraged his pretensions, he begs, in conclusion, to 
 dedicate tliis volume, with the sincerest respect.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 Redemption— Part the First 1 
 
 Part the Second 37 
 
 Notes to Part the First <)5 
 
 Notes to Part the Second 7.'5 
 
 The Song of the Spirit of Hiram l*-^' 
 
 Notes to 104 
 
 God's Evidence of Himself 1 1 ' 
 
 . Notes to 121 
 
 A Fool's Speech 12fi 
 
 The Lily of the Valley i''- 
 
 Man Breaking Silence 127 
 
 Lines on the Poet Cowpcr 1 2S 
 
 Woman 1--' 
 
 Charity 1'^^' 
 
 The Universal Consent I'^l 
 
 Tlie Progress of Time 'b. 
 
 The Dawn of Day 1>'2 
 
 The Poets' Apotheosis l-'^-^ 
 
 The Atheist Abashed l-*' 
 
 Lament of Catullus o'er His Brother's Grave 136 
 
 ^g «**« il). 
 
 Elegiac Stanzas on the Deatli of Lieutenant Heathcote . . . 137 
 
 The Value of Patience '''9 
 
 Prenez Garde '''•
 
 VI CONTENTS. 
 
 The Welcome 140 
 
 The Sabbath 142 
 
 The Life of Man 144 
 
 The Glory of the Stars 145 
 
 A Matin Song 146 
 
 Tlie Martyrs 147 
 
 The Beneficence of God 148 
 
 Night 149 
 
 Stanzas to » * * * 150 
 
 The Danger of Delay 152 
 
 Would'st Thou be Holy ib. 
 
 To the Shade of Coiunibiis 153 
 
 Contemplation of the Power of God 154 
 
 Echo, an Ode 155 
 
 Remorse 159 
 
 Time not Eternal 160 
 
 A Fragment ib. 
 
 Truth Existent with Eternity 161 
 
 Man's Littleness ib. 
 
 The Raising of the Dead 162 
 
 Autumnal Beauty 168
 
 REDEMPTION. 
 
 'Tis grace, 'tis bounty, and it calls for jjraise." 
 
 COWPER 
 
 PART THE FIRST. 
 
 O ! Thou eternal Spirit, at whose word 
 
 The glorious Heavens and prolific Earth 
 
 Rose in such perfect beauty, that Thou didst. 
 
 Omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent. 
 
 Pronounce them good, and bless them at their birth ; 
 
 Teach me as with a prophet-tongue to speak 
 
 Of such a perfect world, as Thou, at first, 
 
 Design'd to people with a sinless race ; 
 
 That witliout toil or culture should have borne, 
 
 In ev'ry season, with eternal round, 
 
 B
 
 REDEMPTION. 
 
 Such plenteous sustenance of corn and oil, 
 Such aromatic herbs and healing gmns, 
 Such precious fruits and ever-blooming flowers, 
 Breathing their odours on the gentle winds, 
 That Arab sweets pursuing them, anon. 
 Had fallen tasteless on the ravish'd sense ; 
 And all the vegetable world of man, 
 Fruit of his patient toil and pregnant arts, 
 Had seem'd a barren, or a wither 'd scene, 
 Compared to that which was decreed mankind. 
 
 That eiTing man may learn what he had been 
 Had he but walk'd him humbly with his God ; 
 Nor sold himself to sinful servitude. 
 For pride, for pleasure, and for treacherous gain : 
 
 Then had he ne'er been fearfully oppress'd, 
 Nor halt, nor speechless ; nor, more fearful, 
 Doom'd to beg in sightless sorrow, all his days 
 A jirofitless and weary j^ilgrimage : 
 
 Then had he ne'er been visited with death ; 
 Nor witless born ; nor, still more pitiful. 
 Stricken as maniacs, who, with vagrant words, 
 Mock their own sorrows in illusive mirth :
 
 RRDEMPTION. 
 
 But he had travers'd all-surpassing eartli, 
 With form erect; so fair to look upon ; 
 So perfect, holy, just, and wise withal ; 
 That lo ! the princes of this erring world, 
 With their gemm'd royalties and kingly trains 
 Around them raying with a gorgeous pomp, 
 Had bow'd their ermin'd bodies to the dust, 
 Before the majesty of sinless man. 
 
 On these celestial visions let me dwell, 
 Whilst superhuman thoughts pervade my mind ; 
 That I may picture them, in glories clad, 
 As if they trod upon that holy ground 
 Gabriel, thy messenger, unsullied kept ; 
 Who led its fallen tenants weeping forth, 
 And barr'd the portal with a flaming sword. 
 
 There let my poesy in peace go forth ; 
 And commune with the beings of a world 
 Holy and glorious for moral worth ; 
 Perfect in wisdom ; heirs elect of life 
 Eternal ; ever-living with their God : 
 Who had not died, as sinning mortals do. 
 Of pleasure-bought and cankering disease ;
 
 REDEMPTION. 
 
 Breeding such deadly and consuming ills, 
 
 That what the grave receives the earth-worm loathes ; 
 
 But meting out such wond'rous length of days, 
 
 That centuries of years with them had pass'd 
 
 With less observance than we note an hour. 
 
 No bed of sickness, none of vain regrets, 
 
 Or penance to afflict them at the last ; 
 
 But, as the angels did, in Holy Writ, 
 
 They had at once, exalted to the skies, 
 
 As was Elias, prophet of the Lord, 
 
 Upon the wings of an Almighty wind ; 
 
 Or, as the holy ones of Jacob's dream. 
 
 Familiar with the regions of their God, 
 
 Ascending and descending, 'midst the stars. 
 
 Inherited the mansions of the just ; 
 
 The glorious Heavens, where Jehovah reigns, 
 
 Reveal'd in such surpassing beams of light, 
 
 That were this earth a single diamond gem, 
 
 And but one eye its brightness all could scan, 
 
 It were not comparable to a ray 
 
 Of the pure glory which svuTounds His throne ; — 
 
 His mercy. His eternal seat and throne ; 
 
 Which was, and is, and shall for aye remain,
 
 REDEMPTION. 
 
 Though all things else shall perish— earth and sky, 
 
 Sun, moon, and stars, in one vast ruin heap'd — 
 
 His is the changeless, the eternal seat, 
 
 Where angels serve and heed, with holy joy, 
 
 The God of mercy ! Lo ! tlie King of kings ! 
 
 Who had, as Lazarus in His bosom laid, 
 
 Ta'en them at once to His eternal rest, 
 
 And kept them in His omnipresent eye ; 
 
 More tenderly, and with more loving words, 
 
 Than fondest parents, after anxious years 
 
 Of oft-regretted separation past, 
 
 Take their lov'd offspring to their yearning hearts. 
 
 With such a perfect race my spirit joys ; 
 
 And, lo ! I tread the unpolluted bounds 
 
 Of hallow'd Euphrates ; the sacred soil, 
 
 From which the wonder-working hand of God 
 
 Made thee, O Man ! the image of Himself; 
 
 In likeness of His own celestial face ; 
 
 And gave thee all things for thy sustenance ; 
 
 And made thee lord of universal earth. 
 
 Well may we say, with our imperfect tongues, 
 
 That thou art fearful, wonderfully form'd. 
 
 B 3
 
 REDEMPTION. 
 
 But what might we have said and sung of thee, 
 Hadst thou not marr'd, with a presumptuous mind, 
 The heav'n-conceived beauty of thy form ; 
 Barter'd thine innocence for sin and death ; 
 For self-polhiting pleasures, in whose train 
 Is premature deformity, and age ; 
 Satiety ; and loathing appetites ; 
 And, lastly, but as little thought upon, 
 The cold sod -cover 'd flesh-corrupting grave — 
 Pregnant with noisome earth-worms, that shall feast 
 Upon thy fallen, self-degraded form, 
 Till e'en the very bones themselves to dust 
 Shall crumble and commingle with the earth : 
 Nor their existence, eye nor hand shall trace 
 From the unhonour'd soil on which we tread ; 
 Till the Revealed Miracle is wroiight, 
 The mighty raising of the silent dead, 
 When the Almighty fiat shall go forth 
 To summon them to their eternal doom ; 
 When, from the several corners of the earth,''' 
 Each particle invisibly shall come. 
 And, lo ! conjoining in their wonted forms, 
 These shall both flesh and blood, tho' decomposed,
 
 REDEMPTIOK. 
 
 Clothe with a just and marvellous perfection ; 
 
 And man, in his humanity again, 
 
 Shall stand reveal'd before his glorious Judge — 
 
 Christ, the anointed, and belov'd of God ; 
 
 Jesus, the holy sacrificial Lamb ; 
 
 Who shed His sacred and atoning blood. 
 
 In ignominious tortures on the Cross, 
 
 That Sin and Death might not o'er man prevail. 
 
 How wonderful are all the ways of Heav'n — 
 
 Benign, benificent; — but chief in this 
 
 The miracle of miracles, O Man ! 
 
 Which makes thee heir of everlasting life. 
 
 Such was thy mercy, O eternal God ! 
 When Thou didst offer, to a fallen race. 
 Redemption through Thine own begotten Son ; 
 For sins, in-evocable, deadly sins. 
 Against the majesty of Heav'n itself; 
 And made Him judge between Thyself and those •" 
 Who had contemn'd Thee in Thy pow'r and might. 
 
 Who shall declare the measure of Thy grace, 
 Or tell the glorious earthly course of Him 
 Who took upon Him their iniquities ?
 
 REDEMPTION. 
 
 How humble, — how resign'd, — how like the Son 
 
 Of Heav'n He bore Him up against the load 
 
 Of foul rebuke they heap'd upon His head ; 
 
 Ev'n those He came to rescue from the grave. — 
 
 How like a perfect creature He withstood 
 
 The wily tempter in the wilderness ; 
 
 How full of wisdom were His words and ways ; 
 
 How like a lamb He gave himself to death, 
 
 And bore the burthen of the fatal tree, 
 
 Ev'n of that tree to which they nail'd His hands 
 
 And sacred feet with foul impiety ; — 
 
 How, when they mock'd His dying thii'st with gall, 
 
 And basely taunted Him with slanderous words. 
 
 He open'd not His mouth as to upbraid ; 
 
 But, as He yielded up the ghost, He cried, — 
 
 " Father forgive them, for they know me not." 
 
 Glorious perfection ! — How shall tongues recount 
 The marvellous measure of Thy saving grace ? 
 Thou Prince of Peace ! How worthy to be Judge, 
 Whose life had been without a spot or guile. 
 Thou reign'st in glory, with Almighty God, 
 Ev'n in the highest Heav'ns, at His right-hand,
 
 REDEMPTION. 9 
 
 Where Thou shalt sit in judgement on the world : 
 From whence Thy blessings on the innocents, 
 And penitents, and just, made perfect, then. 
 Shall fall like dew upon the parched ground ; 
 Till they shall glow before Thy glorious face, 
 As do the spreading herbs beneath the Sun, 
 When genial showers give them second life. 
 
 Blessed are they, for Heav'n is their reward ; 
 But lo ! the wicked shall not see His face ; — 
 They shall, to purge them with eternal toil, 
 And misery and torture, to the pit — 
 Where the pain'd heart shall never taste of peace ; 
 Nor mind nor senses in oblivion lie, 
 Permitted to expire, for pity's sake ; 
 Even to be as they had never been : — 
 No, they shall rather writhe with keener nerve ; 
 And weep, and wail, and gnash their edging teeth 
 In ceaseless agonies of burning woe. 
 Such as delight the demon-prince of sin 
 To taunt the creatures of his pow'r withal ; 
 Gazing with strained eyes on Heaven, the while, 
 And its surpassing host of spirits, lo !
 
 10 KEDEMPTION. 
 
 And saints and seraphs, — round tlie throne of God, 
 Joying in perfect love before the face 
 Of Him, their sacrifice and saviour, Christ : 
 But none shall succour them, the self-condemn'd, — 
 For Heaven and darkness have a gulph between, 
 Such as the demons tremble to behold : 
 Nor aught shall e'er redeem them from their woe. 
 That men or angel-tongues can sing or say. — 
 One, — only one, — shall move the grace of Heav'n, 
 The mercy of Jehovah, whom they spurned ; — 
 One, — only one, — let all believe and love, 
 And honour and adore, the Christ is He ! 
 His supplications may at length prevail , 
 But, ah ! what bitter woes had these escaped, 
 Had they been first to claim the profFer'd boon, 
 Which God the Father gave by God the Son ; 
 Whom God the Holy Spirit did with grace. 
 And ministering mercy work withal ; 
 The proud redemption of their souls from sin, 
 Thro' the atoning blood of Him who died, 
 And rose again, the Saviour of the world. 
 But now a kingdom never knew of sin, 
 Whose dwelling is a glorious Paradise,
 
 REDEMPTION. 1 1 
 
 Perfect as Eden, and of such a birth, 
 Invite my song : — there let me wander forth, 
 My senses all estranged from grosser things, 
 As if I trod the reabns of holiness ; 
 Where the pure voices of celestial choirs 
 Are chorassing the one eternal praise; 
 And muse with saints and angels, face to face. 
 In goodly converse, upon sacred things. 
 
 High as the Ileav'ns the Holy One was rear"d. 
 Where never sinful eye could hope to reach ; 
 Where never royal bird had fearless soar'd 
 Through airy space, as with supernal pow'rs, 
 To gaze upon the ever-glorious Sun ; 
 But only spirits, pui-ified of God, 
 Are cherish'd and admissible: for lo! 
 Surpassing what the bounds of furthest space 
 To human understanding can portray. 
 Was the celestial kingdom from the earth. 
 
 How could the wingless ones, the sons of Eve, 
 As some are vain enough to hope and strive, 
 Reach such abode without the aid of Ilcav'n ? 
 'Tis passing human wisdom, human pow'rs.
 
 12 REDEMPTION. 
 
 Sagacious as they are in their conceits, 
 Since Babel in its impious purpose fail'd, 
 To compass Heav'n, unless they would pursue 
 That narrow way the words immortal teach ; 
 The only way which leads direct to Heav'n, 
 Thro' the unerring paths declared of God, 
 Repentance, and a lively faith in Christ. 
 
 For so imperfect are the words and ways, 
 E'en of the best of men, that none shall hope 
 To say, without impiety or sin, 
 " I am the perfect one shall enter here ; 
 " The incorrupt ; the incorruptible ; 
 " The pure appointed tenant from the first." 
 
 All are imperfect,— then let all repent ; 
 And striving to attain the righteous end, 
 Lo ! they shall be sustain'd, whene'er they faint, 
 With living waters from the heart of Him, 
 Whose hand is stretched forth to save the world ; 
 Whose holy countenance shall urge them on. 
 Till " hallelujahs " shall proclaim that they 
 Have overcome the struggles of the flesh : 
 When the broad gates of Heav'n shall be reveal'd, 
 In glory to their long expectant sight ;
 
 K ADEMPTION. 13 
 
 Not closed against them, inhospitable, 
 As if they were intruders by tlie way ; 
 Cut open wide, — as from a tliousand tongues, 
 A thousand welcomes shall be heard at once. 
 
 How did my spirit thirst to reach tlie mount 
 Where was uprais'd, — but, oh ! alas ! how far. 
 How far remote from where I must essay. 
 The glorious confines of a sinless race. 
 The holy City of the Great and Just 
 Crown'd with its awful glory that broad height. 
 Whose mighty bounds were all impassable. 
 Save to the holy ones who bode therein. 
 
 Ev'n as a traveller does at torrid noon, 
 When far remote from kindred and from home ; 
 Whose days are number 'd in the sandy plains 
 Of Africa's inhospitable wilds, 
 Long for the cooling shade and water-brook ; 
 As his parch'd tongue cleaves to his bloodless mouth, 
 That he may lay him down, at length, and die 
 As if reposing on an angel's breast ; 
 Ev'n so my spirit thirsted for the sight 
 Of the pure regions of a sinless world. 
 
 c
 
 14 REDEMPTION. 
 
 The peerless Queen of all created things, 
 Reigning within her halls omnipotent, 
 Sat in the portals of the glorious dome, — 
 Fair Innocence — in beauty passing all. 
 And lo ! on either side, with grace supreme, 
 'A little lower, but as perfect both. 
 Stood the twin spirits, Truth and Chastity : 
 But she alone, the prescient pow'r possess'd, 
 A pow'r from Heav'n was held in sacred trust, 
 To know the hearts of all who would approach 
 The hallow 'd precincts of her peerless throne. 
 And lo ! that none might pass whose souls were taint. 
 Which some might hope and strive, as 'twere by stealth, 
 Staining the threshold with impurity. 
 Justice, a janitor with brow severe, 
 Stood in her presence with uplifted arm, 
 And poised sword, to do her bidding straight, 
 Should any such invade her glorious bounds. 
 
 These were the guardians, these that city's might. 
 Whose pow'r was purity, — whose love was God. 
 
 How had 1 humbled me before her face ; 
 Nay, to idolatry had almost stoop'd,
 
 REDEMPTION. 15 
 
 So woiid'roiis fair, magnificent withal, 
 Lay the bright city far before mine eyes : 
 So like the promis'd one, Jerusalem ; 
 City of Selah, chosen of the Lord ; 
 So like the splendour of that peerless bourne, 
 Where Cherubim and Seraphim are heard, 
 Unceasingly, in presence of their God; 
 Whose glories earth and sky, celestial, fills ; 
 As with His praises the high heav'ns resound j 
 And all the blessed host their voices join. 
 In one eternal, everlasting song: 
 
 Hail, to the God who made us, hail : 
 
 Hallelujah : Hallelujah : 
 Hail, to the Lord and Spirit, hail : 
 Hosanna in the highest : 
 Let the soul bow down to Thee, 
 Three in one, and one in three : 
 God the Father ; 
 
 Hallelujah :
 
 16 REDEMPTION. 
 
 ' God the Son ; 
 
 Hall el uj all : 
 ' God the Sjjirit; 
 
 Hallelujah : 
 ' Three in One ; 
 
 Amen ! Amen ! 
 ' Hail, to the God who made us, hail 
 
 * Hallelujah : Hallelujah : 
 ' Hail, to the Lord and Spirit, hail : 
 ' Hosanna in the highest. 
 
 II. 
 
 * Hail, to the Son, the Saviour, hail : 
 
 ' Hallelujah : Hallelujah : 
 ' Hail, to Jehovah, Spirit, hail : 
 
 ' Hosanna in the highest : 
 ' Let the soul bovir down to Thee, 
 ' Three in one, and one in three : 
 ' God the Father ; 
 
 Hallelujah : 
 ' God the Son ; 
 
 Hallelujah :
 
 REDEMPTION'. , 17 
 
 God the Spirit; 
 
 Ilallelujah: 
 Three in One ; 
 
 Amen ! Amen ! 
 Hail, to the Son, the Saviour, hail : 
 
 Hallelujah : Hallelujah : 
 Hail, to Jehovah, Spirit, hail : 
 
 Hosanna in the higliest. 
 
 III. 
 
 Hail, to the Holy Spirit, hail : 
 
 Hallelujah : Hallelujah : 
 Hail, to our God and Saviour, hail : 
 
 Hosanna in tlie highest : 
 Let the soul bow down to Thee, 
 Three in one, and one in three : 
 God the Father; 
 
 Hallelujah : 
 God the Son ; 
 
 Hallelujah : 
 God the Spirit : 
 
 Hallelujah : 
 c3
 
 18 REDEMPTION. 
 
 ' Three in One ; 
 
 Amen ! Amen I 
 ' Hail, to the Holy Spirit, hail : 
 
 ' Hallelujah : Hallelujah : 
 ' Hail, to our God and Saviour, hail : 
 ' Hosanna in the highest.' 
 
 Such are the choral, the unceasing songs. 
 The tongues of angels all rehearse in Heav'n ; 
 And such celestial melodies are heard. 
 For ever, in that all-enduring world. 
 Where lo ! my spirit panted to abide. 
 
 How could I hope to reach so bright a place ? 
 For all around its base a liideous gulph 
 Lay deep and wide, as 'tis from earth to Heav'n : 
 And far beyond, uprising to the skies. 
 As they had been the rock of separations, (-' 
 Sela-hamalekoth, from whence, O Saul ! 
 Thou wert forbade to persecute the man, 
 E'en he who slew Goliah with a sling ; 
 The man, even David, after God's own heart :
 
 REDEMPTION. 19 
 
 Yes, rising terribly as they had been 
 
 Sela-hamalekotli, the mighty roclcs 
 
 Girded the mount, defying thee, O man ! 
 
 And lo ! the cunning of the evil one, 
 
 Who fain, like thee, would steal his way to Heav'n. 
 
 There, as I stood, — the mighty gulpli between, — 
 The rocks in awful presence hanging i-ound, 
 As they would fall, in judgment, on the heads 
 Of daring sinners, crushing them to death. 
 To death, eternal, in the tempter's pit, 
 Should they essay to pass th' abyss unshriv'd ; 
 Lo ! with oppressive dread my soul was fill'd, 
 As throbb'd my heart with agonizing throes, 
 As big round drops upon my temples stood. 
 Lest I might never enter me therein ; 
 Till glad repentance hurried to mine aid, 
 And I remember'd all the glorious scene, 
 The agony of Jesus, when He took 
 The cup of my salvation to His lips, 
 And drank the bitter draught of sacrifice, 
 And seal'd the proud Redemption of mankind 
 From everlasting perjury and sin.
 
 20 REDEMPTION. 
 
 Then my repentant soul became assured, 
 More confident, as with a lively faith 
 In His atoning blood, I bore me up. 
 And felt that my transgressions were no more ; 
 That all was peace within my troubled breast. 
 Then was my burning spirit so assuaged 
 With hope, with confident sustaining hope, 
 That quiet came upon my troubled breast, 
 Such as the Saviour can alone bestow. 
 
 Then, tow'rds the glorious city, once again, 
 I turn'd mine eyes, admiring without fear ; 
 And as I still was urged with conscious hope, 
 Repentance, re-assur'd, with faith in Christ, 
 With meek and lowly spirit I approach'd 
 The sacred place where Innocence was thron'd. 
 
 For lo ! the gulph I pass'd, released from sin 
 More freely than the hart o'er-leaps the brook : 
 Not, as when sporting in the forest glade. 
 Its heedless humour dreads nor horse nor hound ; 
 But as when both are chasing in full cry, 
 Bounding for life to shun the hunter's toils.
 
 REDEMPTION. 21 
 
 So (lid I strive to shun the evil one ; 
 So did my spirit, free as air, o'er-leap 
 The dread abyss, and scale the lofty i-ocks ; 
 Till lo ! I stood fair Innocence before, 
 A hopeful suppliant of the Promised Grace ; 
 As with approving eye she urged me on, 
 Till I surprised me in tlie glorious throng. 
 Beloved of God, — redeemed of His Son. 
 
 So efficacious had repentance been, 
 According to the promise of the Word, 
 Tliat, with a contrite heart, my soul became 
 One of the just, made perfect in the Lord. 
 
 Oh ! how shall I in mortal words recount 
 The glorious scenes which burst upon my view ? 
 Ear hath not heard, nor earthly vision seen. 
 Similitudes, or likenesses of such 
 Celestial melodies as rose in praise 
 Of highest Heav'n and His eternal reign ; 
 Of such surpassing j)alaces and domes ; 
 Such crystal waters ; such enchanting groves ; 
 Such temples, towering to the sacred height^
 
 22 KEDEMPriON. 
 
 They seem'd as bow'd beneath the weight of Heav'n 
 Or as the foot-stool of th' eternal God, 
 With whose surpassing glory they were fill'd. 
 
 Yet lo ! I trembled not, nor was oppress'd, 
 At the bright presence of such glorious things ; 
 All seem'd habitual to my waken'd sense. 
 As they had been mine own familiar dreams ; 
 The sublimated visions of my mind. 
 When the remembrance of the promis'd grace, 
 Reveal'd of God, in balmy sleep prevail'd. 
 And wheresoe'er I came, ten thousand tongues 
 Burst forth in " Hallelujahs!" as I'd been 
 The messenger of some celestial boon. 
 Whereat I marvell'd; for to me it seem'd. 
 As they did vouch me praise and honour more, 
 Than to the perfect ones who bode therein ; 
 Whose dwelling it had been from mortal prime. 
 Who had not sinn'd, nor fallen from the faith ; 
 But were as spotless as from hands divine 
 Was Adam, when he breath'd the breath of life, 
 And man, at first, became a living soul. 
 But oh ! my wonder ceased at this their praise.
 
 REDEMPTION. 23 
 
 When I rcmembcr'd Clirist himself had said, 
 " There shall be heard in lleav'n more holy joy, 
 " Over one sinner that repenteth him, 
 " Tlian over multitudes who fear the Lord." 
 Such was the price He set upon a soul — 
 Though man, alas ! himself would heedless cast 
 His lot amongst the unredeemed sons 
 Of Satan and his heav'n-rejected crew. 
 
 Here were none such ; for here nor sin nor death, 
 Nor had the tempter ever set his foot ; 
 His pestilential foot ; nor breathed therein 
 The words of 'luring flattery and discord. 
 As he the mother of mankind betray 'd, 
 And wean'd her heart from purity and God. 
 
 Yet all were free, in thought and word and deed. 
 Within the precincts of these realms of bliss, 
 As are the sorrowing sons of Adam's race. 
 For why? their hearts were pure; their deeds were such, 
 As Heav'n would smile on with approving grace ; 
 Tlieir thoughts, too, perfect as their hearts and deeds ; 
 And, therefore, were they never taint with sin. 
 And lo ! whichever way I turn'd my head. 
 Hosts of the blessed beings met my view ;
 
 24 REDEMPTION. 
 
 Whose countenances beam'd as they had been 
 Encircled with a glory, such as none, 
 Save Christ, adorn — as Adam's dreaming sons 
 Have pictur'd the anointed of their Lord. 
 
 Here was a holy, here a perfect world ; 
 Whose ev'ry thought, whose ev'ry deed was just ; 
 Chosen of God, and worthy of his choice ; 
 One of whose race, a venerable man, 
 Whose patriaixhal countenance bespoke, 
 That he had known a wond'rous length of days. 
 Tenant from first of this celestial place, 
 Proffer'd his suit as he would be my guide. 
 And bade me be his guest with welcome words ; 
 As I, indeed, had been that truant son. 
 For whom the father slew the fatted calf. 
 And on he led me to his blessed home. 
 Where lo ! no selfish brother grudged me bread ; 
 But all his household, with profusive care. 
 Gave welcome to me and supplied my wants; 
 Appeased my hunger and assuaged my thirst ; 
 And clothed me in the choicest of their vests. 
 
 And there the messengers of Heav'n the while.
 
 REDEMPTION. 25 
 
 Both went and came, with gratuhitions all, 
 As they, too, were the imnatcs of his home. 
 So all-familiar and belov"d of Heav'n 
 Was he, my host, tlie hoary-headed man, 
 Whose years outnumber'd what we note of time. 
 
 And oh ! how grateful 'twas to witness here, 
 The harmony and love 'mongst all prevail'd : 
 How modest youth bow'd down before the Sage, 
 And drank their words of wisdom to the last. 
 As 'twere the sustenance their lives required. 
 
 t 
 
 For when their Elders did discourse of Heav'n, 
 Or taught the duties of a social world, 
 Although it seem'd as they had nought to learn ; 
 Yet, with a greedy ear they held their peace ; 
 And honour'd those wlio gave them birth and life. 
 As they had been of a celestial race, 
 With such obedient, reverential minds; 
 Such prompt performance, too, of what they will'd, 
 As make the yearning hearts of parents glad ; 
 Whose proudest boast and blessing is a child 
 That looks upon them with a trusting eye, 
 
 D
 
 26 REDEMPTION. 
 
 Belov'd of God, and lauded, too, of man. 
 
 For great shall be the measure of their days, 
 As was the holy Patriarch's of old, 
 Who did not grudge his life at God's command ; 
 But as Jehovah will'd that he should die, 
 Type of the Holy One was slain for sin ; 
 He patient bore the sacrificial pile, 
 And laid him bound thereon, and bared his throat 
 To his, his father's hand, uprais'd to slay. 
 In prompt obedience to the will of Heav'n, 
 Had not an angel's tongue his purpose stay'd. 
 
 Lo ! such an one, belov'd of God and man, 
 Was he, Josephus, whom his parents rear'd 
 In holy fear of the Almighty name ; 
 Till he became in wisdom, as in years. 
 Comely of stature, and of perfect mind. 
 Their wonder and their blessing and their pride. 
 
 Born to the luxuries of life, they knew 
 Nor want nor misery ; but lo ; their days 
 Were prosperous all, and seem'd as blest by Heav'n ; 
 Till he, their son, was aptly call'd a man ; 
 And they, with added years, were old and grey.
 
 REDEMPTION. 27 
 
 Till then misfortune never cross'd their door, 
 Save when the wants of others bade them come 
 To claim that charity was ne'er denied. 
 
 But suddenl}^, alas ! like those of Job, 
 Bereavement sad upon bereavement came ; 
 Till bread did fail them, and, alas ! till they 
 Had scarce where left to lay their aching heads. 
 
 How did their son demean him in such pliglit — 
 Did he forsake them, too, now helpless quite? 
 Alas ! the heart of him was sorely sear'd, — 
 And oft and oft he comforted their woes, 
 And blessed God, that He had left him strength, 
 That he might earn for them their daily bread. 
 
 For lo ! his hands, were never used to toil, 
 Which morn and eve saw rais'd to gracious Heav'n, 
 In holy supplicating pray'r and praise. 
 Labour 'd unceasingly each live-long day. 
 To nurture those, who else had perish'd both. 
 
 Thus were his parents blessed ev'n in grief: 
 For until then, they ne'er had known the joys. 
 The overflowing, lo ! the heartfelt joys,
 
 28 REDEMPTION. 
 
 Which God had given them in such a son ; 
 Who was to them both raiment, food, and home ; 
 WeaUhj kindred, friends ; their all in all was he. 
 
 At length a kindlier spirit than the rest, — 
 For many look'd upon them with disdain 
 Who once, when plenty smil'd around their board, — 
 Had ate their bread and drunk of their full cups ; 
 A messenger from that ne'er-failing Pow'r, 
 Who suffers not a sparrow, lo ! to fall, 
 But 'tis observ'd by His all-seeing eye, 
 Burn'd with compassion for the aged pair; 
 And look'd with admiration on their son ; 
 And took them to his hearth ; and lo ! their lives, 
 Became all peaceful, as they once had been. 
 
 But still their son would strive to earn his bread- 
 Him to appease his kindly guardian sent, 
 For such he was within the hands of Heav'n, 
 To a far distant land across the seas. 
 And there he reach'd him safe, the southern shores, 
 And gain'd him honour, fame, and riches too ; 
 Till yearning for the sight of those he lov'd, 
 He once again emhurk'J upon the deep;
 
 REDEMPTION. 29 
 
 And there anon retrac'd his devious way, 
 Till he his native land again descried. 
 
 How did his bosom swell with filial love, 
 That he a parent's blessing soon might crave. 
 
 But oh! mysterious pow'r, which will'd it so — 
 That very night he slept, alas ! in death : — 
 For sudden tempest raged around their bark. 
 And winds and waves in dread commotion strove, 
 Till they overwliclm'd it on the stubborn rocks, 
 Where morning saw his corpse with others strewn. 
 But this bereavement never sear'd the hearts 
 Of those fond parents he so dearly lov'd ; 
 For they had journey 'd before him to Ileav'n. 
 
 His kindly friend and benefactor mounfd, 
 Over his manly corpse, with silent grief 
 And agony of heart, as he prepared 
 To pay the last sad offices, that lo ! 
 Humanity demands, at mortal hands, 
 A meetly sepulture in holy ground. 
 
 'Twas on a summer even, calm and still. 
 The village church-bell toli'd at intervals, 
 
 D 2
 
 30 REDEMPTION. 
 
 Whose monitory tones alone were heard, 
 
 In solemn cadence over field and fell, 
 
 That forth the wanderer's remains were borne. 
 
 There was no vain display of earthly pomp ; 
 But just as Christains should be laid in earth. 
 To wait the glorious coming of the Lord, 
 In sables silently they wended forth ; 
 And when, at length, with solemn pace, that lo ! 
 They reach'd the portals of the dome of Heav'n ; 
 He, the ordained to the sacred task. 
 Declared the Resurrection and the Life. 
 Then was the funeral anthem heard, anon. 
 With solemn wail along the dim-lit aisle ; 
 And, dust to dust, the body to the grave 
 Committed to repose its finite space. 
 
 One heart alone was wrung with hopeless grief — 
 'Twas her's, his benefactor's only child ; 
 Who wept, alas ! and tore her beauteous hair, 
 As Rachel wail'd her for her children slain, 
 That he she fondly lov'd was now no more. 
 
 Her hands, that slie might win his grateful thanks, 
 Had planted flow'rs and train'd them o'er the graves
 
 RI.DKMPTION. 31 
 
 Of those fond parents he so dearly prized ; 
 And water'd them with her regretful tears, 
 That her Josephus could not share her woes. 
 Ah ! little did she dream that they should scent 
 The breeze when sighing o'er het lover's grave. 
 
 He was a child belov'd of Heav'n, indeed, — 
 Such as were those of that celestial race, 
 In whose surpassing regions I abode. 
 
 But oh ! ye disobedient ones who are, — 
 For some there are, alas ! who answer such 
 Within this fallen, sublunary world, 
 A very bitterness to those fond hearts 
 And tender breasts sustain'd thine infant years ; 
 A bitter, ay, a bitter blighting woe 
 Will bring their hairs with sorrow to the grave, 
 Ere age has made them colourless or grey — 
 How shall ye answer this before your God, 
 Whose high commandment you have thus contemn'd? 
 
 Oh ! 'tis a barb, a deadly poison'd barb, ^3) 
 Ingratitude from children ! when it lights 
 On a too sensitive, indulgent breast ; 
 Perhaps a parent's tender to a fault,
 
 32 REDEMPTION. 
 
 Whose only crime is loving thee too well ; 
 Have rankled in their deeply wounded liearts, 
 Till they have been oppress'd, alas ! so sad, 
 That they have raving died on maniac straw. 
 
 Perhaps a mother's fond embalming lips, 
 The first which made sweet impress upon thine, 
 Have blanch'd with madness, such as taught her tongue 
 To ban the hour which gave thee to her arms. 
 Which else had been the happiest of her life ! 
 
 Shall this not lie so heavy on thy soul, 
 That lo! thy life shall be like one accursed? 
 Thy days but few ? and all of joyless cast? 
 
 Ponder o'er this, ye disobedient ones ! 
 And learn to temper thine obdurate hearts 
 To reverence such as would become a child, 
 Tow'rds those who'd give their life-blood for thy sakes; 
 Ev'n as the pelican would rend its breast, (■•' 
 And pour its vital current reeking forth. 
 Lest its own offspring should untimely die : 
 
 For know it is a sin so deeply dyed, 
 That he, the impious one betray'd his God, 
 Would scarce say ' Brother, welcome!' to thy face.
 
 REDEMPTION. 33 
 
 And oh ! ye tender Parents ; ye to whom 
 Ciod hath committed it to rear that world, 
 From which is to be ta'en Tlie Elect of Heav'n ! 
 Be to their untaught souls a Book of Grace, 
 Of holy wisdom, and of moral gain. 
 
 So shall they flourish, like the verdant trees 
 Which spread their branches in the forest wide ; 
 And lo ! descending to the soil, take root, 
 And spread again, and lo ! descend, anon. 
 Till they o'er-arch, as twere, the total earth : 
 Or like to those which cast their plenteous seed. 
 Upon the teeming ground, spontaneous forth ; 
 Till they uprise, the wonder of the crowd, 
 A lordly forest on some Alpine height : 
 Or to the hand of man, who sows them wide ; 
 Till they so multiply, that lo ! the land 
 Seem all umbrageous and replete with life. 
 
 So shall thy progeny, belov'd of God, 
 Be great and numberless as is their seed ; 
 And vigorous, too ; and prized as are the plants 
 The cultivator proudly shews the world, 
 And man pronounce most perfect of tluir kind :
 
 34 REDEMPTION. 
 
 So shall they bless the number of thy days ; 
 And weary gracious Heav'n with ceaseless pray'rs, 
 For added years, when thou art old and grey : 
 
 E'en as ^neas bore from reeking Troy '*' 
 The sacred burthen of an aged sire, 
 And made him partner in his safety-flight : 
 
 Ev'n as the stork attends its parent bird,!*^' 
 Sustaining, tenderly, its weight and life, 
 When lo ! its pow'rs of flight no more prevail ; 
 So shall they tend thee with a filial care ; 
 And watch thy safety in the hour of need ; 
 And be thy stay; and nurture thy decline ; 
 Till thou shalt close thine in such sweet death, 
 Thou shalt but la)' thee down and take thy rest, 
 Till Heav'n awakes the universal world. 
 
 END OF TART THE FIRST
 
 PART THE SECOND. 
 
 " Where God or angel guest 
 " With man as with his friend familiar used 
 " To sit ill secret, and with liiin partake 
 " Rural repast, permitting him the while 
 " Venial discourse unblamed." 
 
 JIlI.TON.
 
 REDEMPTION. 
 
 " But view Religion in her native charms, 
 Dispersing blessings with indulgent arms." 
 
 Sill R. Blackmore. 
 
 PART THE SECOND. 
 
 As when the mighty rushing wind was heard, 
 And cloven tongues, as 'twere of sacred fire, 
 Descended on the twelve, till they, at once. 
 Did utter divers and untutor'd speech, 
 In languages estrang'd from them before; 
 That lo ! both Jew and Gentile were astound 
 To hear the truths of Heav'n so breath'd abroad; 
 Oh ! that the Holy Spirit might vouchsafe, 
 In mercy to the darkness of my soul.
 
 38 REDEMPTION. 
 
 To poui' its inspiration o'er my mind ; 
 That I might breathe abroad the wond'rous tale, 
 As 'twere proclaim'd by apostolic tongues ; 
 As if I were the witness of the light, 
 The voice of the Baptizer, as 'twas heard 
 In the waste howling wilderness ; when lo ! 
 The trembling nations, all astonish'd, came 
 To learn the coming of the Christ, the Lord : 
 When the high heav'ns oped their portals wide, 
 And, like a dove, the Holy Spirit lit 
 Upon the head of the Baptized Christ, 
 The sacred witness of his glorious birth ; 
 And Jordan's waters from the Saviour roll'd. 
 And bore abroad the fiat of their God, 
 ' This is my own Beloved Son, in whom, 
 ' Behold ! I am well pleased : hear ye Him !' 
 
 Then had I sung of thee, consoling one, 
 Benign Religion ! Messenger of Peace ! 
 As if I spoke with ministering tongue ; 
 Had told the truths the Gospel Preachers teach 
 As I had been ordain'd to thee alone. 
 
 Then had I sung of that surpassing world,
 
 REDEMPTION. 39 
 
 Whose glorious bounds my spirit had attain'd, 
 
 As would become the sinless ones to hear, 
 
 In whose bright presence Heav'n had vouched me now : 
 
 With whom in guidance, as it was the hour, 
 
 Though all were hours of pray'r and praise to them, 
 
 For celebration of accepted works ; 
 
 The offering of universal love. 
 
 And pure thanksgiving, and celestial song ; 
 
 With humble hearts and meekly reverent steps, 
 
 And silent tongues, communing with the soul, 
 
 We bow'd us at the Altar of our God. 
 
 O what a glorious sight was there re veal 'd ! 
 Spirits of Heav'n and perfect ones of earth 
 In prostrate adoration, all alike 
 Devoutly breathing pray'rs and praise to Him, 
 The just, eternal, ever-living One ; 
 Lo ! Him, the merciful Omnipotent ; 
 Creator, Saviour, Judge of thee, O man ! 
 Thou heedless erring one, behold ! whom God 
 Didst mould and animate for His own use : 
 Nor Heav'n had then a fairer thing than tliou. 
 Than thou at first wert placed in Eden's bow'rs, 
 Sole monarcli of the imiversal earth.
 
 40 REDEMPTION. 
 
 There was not seen within their sacred domes, 
 The vainly proud and self-important man, 
 That foul abomination of the Lord ; 
 Whose presence in a consecrated place 
 Is not for purposes of pray'r and praise, 
 For lo ! his thoughts but seldom soar to Heav'n : 
 His is the vain display of earthly pomp, 
 The self-indulgent show of outward form. 
 For purposes which make it impious there, 
 For him, who has no homage in his soul. 
 To kneel when others give their hearts to God. 
 
 Let him go mortify his thoughts with pray'r, 
 In earnest conflict with his stubborn heart, 
 To works of Christian Charity and Love ; 
 Till he has purged him of the foul abuse, 
 And learn 'd the luxury of doing good. 
 Lest heathen worshippers, anon, exult ''' 
 In attributes peculiarly belong 
 To generations are profess 'd of Christ. 
 * For he who lacketli Charity, doth lack 
 ' The spirit of all other perfect gifts;' 
 Saith the Anointed of Almighty God. .
 
 REDEMPTION. 41 
 
 Let him go tread the haunts of tliosc who he, 
 With gnawing want and wretchedness oppress'd ; 
 The couch of sickness ; lo ! the houseless poor, 
 The sad wayfaring-suppliants for bread ! 
 Dry up the oqihan's tears ; and stay the sighs 
 Of her, the widow, famishing with want, 
 With all her little ones in ceaseless grief; 
 Who had not fared tliem thus, but him, their stay, 
 Was swept away by the remorseless deep. 
 
 But late she sat beside her humble hearth, 
 No Princess happier in her broad domains, 
 With her fair progeny desporting round, 
 In joyous smiles ; that he, her husband, soon, 
 With his trim boat well laden too, perhaps. 
 And tongue and heart for her and her's alone. 
 Would near the rocky turret of his home. 
 
 For since she mark'd the sun had dipt his disk. 
 In blood-red beauty, deeply in the wave ; 
 That ev'ning glory far and wide was spread 
 O'er the broad bosom of the rolling sea, 
 Or lo ! in Heav'n above, sui-passing fair ; 
 That now the striding peak, whose giant-foot 
 
 e3
 
 42 REDEMPTION. 
 
 Seem'd to spurn back the waters with disdain, 
 
 Had hung his sables o'er the fading coast ; 
 
 Tliat autumn-dews were falling fast and chill ; 
 
 She would that him she lov'd, as was his wont, 
 
 Were skimming stealthily along the rocks, 
 
 Where now the sea-bird had beta'en to roost. 
 
 And ever and anon, a prattler's tongue 
 
 Did lisp the father home, with puerile speech ; 
 
 Whilst, too, her anxious eyes did search the deep. 
 
 And ev'ry speck that broke the fearful range, 
 
 She thought, and oh ! she wish'd her husband's bark. 
 
 Alas ! he came not with the setting sun ; 
 Nor with the twilight ; nor with pitchy night : 
 But lo ! a storm with dire commotion rose, 
 And withering lightnings flash'd, and thunders roll'd, 
 And sky and ocean, in a dread embrace, 
 Seem'd as they struggled for the mastery. 
 And there she sat, upon the flinty rocks, 
 Drench'd with the current from the bursting clouds ; 
 As cradled in her breast an infant lay ; 
 As round her knees her wailing children clung : 
 The while the waters like a cauldron boil'd ; 
 And signal peals were heard, of dire portent,
 
 REDEMPTION. 43 
 
 Bounding to shore upon the hrawling waves : 
 But still he came not whom her aching breast 
 And sleepless eyes did long to rest upon — 
 And the broad sun in clouded grandeur rose, 
 And set again amidst contention wild ; 
 Another night, and yet he came not home : 
 The morrow dawn'd, as lonely, but more calm; 
 But still her eyes with burning tears were wet, 
 And her poor children sorrow 'd wildly, too, 
 As hand in hand, with trembling steps and slow, 
 They search'd the rugged beach all woe-begone. 
 
 There in the crevice of a rifted rock, 
 O melancholy omen of her fears ! 
 A shatter 'd remnant of his bark she spied — 
 Another step, and there his body lay — 
 Cold, stiff, and maim'd, and drench'd, alas ! and dead. 
 
 She never swoon 'd, — she neither wept nor scream'd, — 
 But there she stood, the picture of despair, 
 Till mute, at length, she sunk upon his corpse : 
 Nor had again, perhaps, her eyes unclosed, — 
 But that her little ones, with fearful cries, 
 Call'd back the fleeting spirit to her breast.
 
 44 REDEMPTION, 
 
 To the reft homes of wretchedness like this, 
 There let him go, with Charity's sweet balm, 
 Whose heart is bent npon a kindly task ; 
 And he shall earn him, lo ! the sev'n-fold gift 
 The Lord hath promised for the bounty-loan. 
 For lo ! the Scriptures teach the words divine, 
 ' That hallow'd Charity shall cover o'er 
 ' A number, ay, a multitude of sins!' 
 Then shall he answer, when his Judge demands 
 The witness of his claims to rest in Heav'n — 
 ' Almighty God, according to Thy word, 
 ' So have I dealt me with the sons of man : 
 ' In misery and torture, sooth'd their woes ; 
 ' Have fed the hungry ; clothed the naked ; lo I 
 ' And minister 'd to those in prison bound.' 
 Then Heav'n shall welcome him—* Approach, my son, 
 ' Thou worthy to be number'd with the just.' — 
 - And his redeemed heart shall leap for joy. 
 For very joy at the auspicious words ; 
 As all the host of Heav'n, with one acclaim ; 
 With tongues of gladness, and out-stretched arms; 
 Shall take him to their converse and their rest. 
 Or where the Sable Children of the South
 
 REDEMPTION. 45 
 
 Are goaded to the unredeemed task ; 
 
 For their 's is not the profit of their toil ; 
 
 There let him go ; and rend from their bow'd forms 
 
 The manacles and badges — lo ! the bonds, 
 
 That mercenary craft hath forged for man : 
 
 Or to the prison, where oppression may 
 
 Have cast the poor and unpropitious ones ; 
 
 Grasping the rod of foul inveterate pow'r, 
 
 With such imsparing and avengeful hands, 
 
 That chast'ning woe beseem so dread to bear, 
 
 The Christian's comfort, in a maniac mood, 
 
 Flies the oppressed breast — and he dares rush, 
 
 A self-convicted murderer, to the grave ! 
 
 How blest were he should stay so rash a deed ; 
 Should pour the balm of hope and consolation 
 Into the wounded spirit of the poor ; 
 And bar their breasts against despairing thoughts ; 
 And turn them to their Saviour and their God. 
 
 Thus should he win the favour of the Lord, 
 And find him Grace witinn the sight of Heav'n. 
 Not fast in fashion, for religion's sake ; 
 Or put on sanctity, as if a vest 
 Were all the homage that religion crav'd ;
 
 40 REDEMPTION. 
 
 As 'twere worn loosely and but for a time : 
 
 But wear his reformation in Lis heart, 
 
 And lay the gauds of vanity aside, 
 
 With contrite spirit, and with hope confirm'd ; 
 
 With fear; with trembling; and with Faith renew'd. 
 
 God is not served with supererogation ; 
 With forms of sanctity unknown in Heav'n ; 
 With vain ablutions, and with formal pray'rs, 
 In open contact with the eyes of men, 
 As if you would that they should laud the work ! 
 Witness the Pharisees, whom Christ rebuked — 
 He is well pleased when men remember Him 
 With pure and secret purpose of the soul ; 
 With inward communings of heart and mind ; 
 With longings after Heav'n ; with faith in Christ ; 
 And hands outstretched where the wretched lie. 
 
 Such as was theirs, the sinless ones with whom 
 I bow'd before the Altar of the Lord ; 
 Such should the earthly form of worship be : 
 The holy, pure, and Heav'n-elected form, 
 Which Christ and his Apostles did pursue, 
 In perfecting their mission from above.
 
 REDEMPTION. 
 
 Inherent in theii* hearts, or lo ! inspired 
 By fervour of a soul-convicted Faith, 
 And firm reliance in tli' Almighty pow'r ; 
 And all those attributes which can and do 
 Exalt e'en Heav'n before the sons of man ; 
 Such as the Triune-Spirit would impart, 
 The Holy Ghost, the Comforter from Heav'n, 
 To those who'd seek His all-sufficient Grace ; 
 Such were the perfect pray'rs they breath'd on high. 
 
 The primitive, tlie unpolluted form, 
 Burn'd in their bosoms with a pious joy, 
 Unmix'd with earthly and alkiring pomp; 
 Though fallen men are won with such conceits ; 
 But 'tis a proof, alas ! that they are fallen, 
 From the pui-e worship which their father's knew. 
 
 How many, ev'n of those who wear the garb 
 Of Heav'n-ordained ministry, are wont. 
 Rather to give themselves to earthly lures, 
 Ev'n in the holy place, the house of pray'r, 
 Than their twice-purchased souls to God alone. 
 
 As if the sacred edifice were meant 
 For exhibition of their fantasies. 
 And not for solenui purposes alone ;
 
 48 REDEMPTION. 
 
 Where all the willing may with one accord, 
 In pray'rs and praises give their hearts to God ; 
 And learn the way, from His revealed word, 
 Their souls shall be redeem'd from sin and death ; 
 In language such, though eloquence less pure. 
 As breath'd the tongue divine upon the Mount ; 
 That tongue which taught th' inspired ones to pra}' ; 
 The messengers of His redeeming Grace, 
 Proclaim'd aloud through universal earth. 
 
 Alas ! that man should minister to man. 
 Whose sacred duty is reproof for such. 
 His vanity, his weakness, and self-love, 
 Whose will nor passions lean to things divine ; 
 And make the Altars of their God, as 'twere, 
 A gain to fancy, not the understanding. 
 
 As if the gauds of earth could add to Hcav'n, 
 What from his untaught people is withheld ; 
 As if the frantic ravings of their tongues 
 Could tell the simple Truths the Scriptures teach, 
 With cunning arts of speech unknown before ; 
 Ev'n to the Chosen Ones, who as tliey sat 
 In sacred concord at the festal board,
 
 REDEMPTION. 49 
 
 Received the marv'lous gift of divers tongues ; 
 
 And learn 'd the gladsome words from Christ the Lord. 
 
 Shall any such presume to bless the cup, 
 The sacred chalice, and the Holy Bread, 
 Divinely set apart for God's own use ? 
 
 Shall any such be worthy of that meed 
 Of holy revelation, when he saw, 
 (The martyr Stephen,) ev'n in his death-hour. 
 The Heav'ns unveil'd in glory, lo ! and Christ 
 Standing omnipotent at God's right-hand, 
 With arms out-stretched to receive his soul ? 
 
 Shall they not rather, like the gainless one, 
 Despoil'd of what they have, anon, in trust. 
 Be cast to outer darkness, there to dwell, 
 Where they shall weep and wail and gnash their teeth ? 
 
 Or lo ! accursed, as was the fruitless tree. 
 Wither and perish in the sight of man, 
 Whose tongues shall note them the disown'd of God ? 
 
 But in the glorious City of the Just, 
 The holy ministers of God were such, 
 That Truth came from the consecrated lips, 
 Ev'n as discoursing of celestial things,
 
 50 KEDEMPTION. 
 
 As do the precious metals when assay'd ; 
 The more refin'd the more they pass the fire : 
 The while the people knelt in silence all, 
 Within the fanes of this eternal world — 
 Where Angels, too, were seen in prostrate awe ; 
 Whose purer spirits blest the form of pray'r 
 Was breathed by him, whose holy words of peace, 
 So pure, so simple, lo ! so uuadorn'd ; 
 So apostolical ; so like the Lord's ; 
 Were all acceptable in sight of Heav'n. 
 
 And lo ! when all from pray'r were seen disposed ; 
 The matin-melody, too, breath'd on high 
 As rung the Temple with harmonious praise, 
 Where all their tongues were heard with one acclaim ;- 
 Then rose the Sage, whose duty bade him speak 
 The words of highest Heav'n to Heav'n's elect : 
 
 Here was no ostentation ; vain attempt 
 To win himself the plaudits of the crowd : 
 But as he'd been a Holy Prophet, such 
 As was Isaiah, or the Wailing One, 
 Flow'd the inspir'd oration from his lips ; 
 Breathing tlie truths religion loves to teach, 
 Untainted with the visions of the world.
 
 REDEMPTION. 
 
 And there the while, as it had been their God, 
 So holy, perfect, and belov'd of them 
 Were these, the teachers of a chosen race ; 
 Who spoke of Ileav'n and His eternal throne ; 
 His mercy and His glory and His grace ; 
 His omnipresent and Almighty pow'r ; 
 His universal and unceasing love ; 
 With silent adoration all were mov'd. 
 As if the Holy Spirit in their souls 
 Had work'd with marvellous and converting grace ; 
 And all their countenances beam'd with love, 
 And holy gladness ; such as is alone 
 The perfect witness of a sinless breast ; 
 Of a pure conscience, and a mind at ease, 
 With Heav'n and earth — and lo! within itself! 
 
 When he had ceased, behold ! again with pray'r 
 And holy praises soar'd their voices high ; 
 Then call'd the Sage a blessing from above 
 Upon the heads of all the righteous there, 
 And forth they walk'd to meditate on God. 
 Not in the revelry of earthly pomp, 
 Forgetfvd that the holy day was Heav'n's; 
 Wasting the precious moments of their lives. 
 
 51
 
 52 REDEMPTION. 
 
 In giving soul and body both to sin ; 
 As do the generations of the earth, 
 Regardless of the fiat of their God — 
 * Thou shalt keep holy mine appointed day !' 
 Oh ! knew they but the value of that gift, 
 The fallen earthly ones who walk in sin ; 
 That mercy-teeming and refreshing gift ; 
 The glorious boon of Heav'n, th' appointed Day ; 
 That day of rest to all the mortal race ; 
 But oh ! peculiar blessing of the Poor ! 
 The day He hallow'd as a day of pray'r, 
 And blessed it ; the day He did repose 
 From all the wond'rous works His hands had made, 
 The Sabbatli ! — In that word, that single word, 
 All Heav'n, as 'twere, uprise before mine eyes ; 
 The earth from chaos rolls in goodly form ; 
 The darkness lays upon the troubled deep ; 
 God's holy spirit o'er the waters moves ; 
 The light breaks forth ; the stars begin to shine ; 
 Trees, plants, and flow'rs and verdure clothe the ground ; 
 And man, the lord of all, in Eden's bow'rs, 
 As perfect yet, with his companion dwell, 
 Lo ! Eve, the beauteous mother of mankind.
 
 REDEMPTION. 53 
 
 TIow liad it fared with tliee, thou pow'iless ones, 
 But for this glorious, this Ahiiighty gift? 
 Had not your days been but a ceaseless toil ? 
 One unremitted, lo ! an endless task, 
 Begun with Life and ended with the Grave ? 
 
 Ponder o'er this; and bless Almighty God; 
 And give Ilim glory in Ilis hallow'd fanes, 
 On this. His Sabbath, His own blessed day, 
 With love and adoration, such as none. 
 Not even angels should surpass in Heav'n : 
 And meditate upon His righteous ways, 
 And his Revealed Mercy ! all as free ; 
 All, all unpurchased, too, by thee, O Man ! 
 As was this primal gift of gracious Heav'n. 
 
 Where'er we walk, where'er we turn our eyes, 
 Another and another we behold, 
 A wond'rous cause for our luiceasing praise. 
 Tree, plant, and flow'r, or lo ! (he meanest thing. 
 That soars in air, or crawls upon the earth ; 
 Or lo ! disports within the rolling deep ; 
 Is each a miracle, a marvel wrought 
 By His surpassing and Almighty pow'r. 
 
 f3
 
 54 REDEMPTION. 
 
 Eye hath not seen, nor shall it ever see ; 
 
 Tongue hath not told, nor shall it ever tell ; 
 
 A tithe of Heaven's surpassing handyvrorks ! 
 
 For they are numberless as is the sand ; 
 
 Or as the stars the firmament adorn ; 
 
 And like them fraught with wond'rous glory, too ! 
 
 Give Him, then, ceaseless homage in His fanes, 
 And undefiled love, and purchased praise ; 
 Lest thou shouldst fare, and be, alas ! cut off, '"' 
 As was the dread profaner, with his host. 
 Whose messenger, upon the Sabbath, lo ! 
 Ev'n whilst the people pour'd their praise to Heav'n, 
 Polluted God's own fane with human gore ; 
 The blood of his appointed, Israel's race : 
 Nor age nor sex was spared of Judah's line ; 
 But lo ! he slew, within the sacred dome, 
 The young and hoary ; mothers and their babes ; 
 Till God no longer there, nor morn nor eve, 
 "Welcom'd their praising and thanksgiving tongues. 
 No more with offerings pure of peace and love. 
 Or sacrifices did his altars teem ; 
 For all His faithful were with fear o'ercome. 
 Till he, Matthias, of the priestly race,
 
 REDEMPTION. 5j 
 
 Whom lo ! the heathen would subdue with bribes 
 And promises and proffers of liis wcaltli, 
 Hiirn'd zealous for the laws of injured Heav'n ; 
 Denounced their dread impiety and sin ; 
 Slew the apostate who forsook his faith ; 
 Invoked his children to avenge their God ; 
 And lo ! appealing to the faithful still, 
 For safety, to the deserts and the hills, 
 Betook them to appease the wrath of Heavn. 
 
 For ev'n the I loly Temple of the Lord, 
 And all Jerusalem, and round about. 
 With idols and idolatries were fill'd, 
 Till God was scarce remember 'd by His own. 
 
 Then Eleazer ! then the Holy Dame ! '^' 
 With all her glorious offspring, were cut off, — 
 A proud example of imshrinking faith. 
 
 Then was Judaea, by a heathen tongue, 
 Avow'd the mausoleum of her tribes, 
 Had not their God aveng'd his people's wrongs ; 
 When forth a scion of the priestly race 
 Led them, the chosen remnant of the faith.
 
 56 REDEMPTION. 
 
 From the higli mountain and the desert wild; 
 And mighty in the countenance of God, 
 Host after host, with dread onslaught o'erthrew ; 
 And purified the Temple ; and redeem'd 
 The holy city from his impious pow'r, 
 Who, in his deadly wrath, was hastening forth, 
 With curses on his tongue and vengeful arm. 
 To smite thee, Israel, even to the grave. 
 
 But lo ! the arm of Heav'n his purpose stay'd, 
 With sudden judgments of disease and pain ; 
 And he, the murderer and blasphemer, died, '■" 
 As by the holy prophet was fore-doom'd, 
 Abhorred of Heaven and despised of man. 
 Confessing God alone was Great and Just ! 
 
 But let me sing of that eternal gift ; 
 For lo! there is another yet to come, 
 More glorious still, more merciful than all ; 
 By prophets sung ; by tongue divine proclaim'd ; 
 Wliich man shall earn him with a perfect faith ; 
 And lo ! with a repentance so sincere. 
 That he shall be from sin regenerate,
 
 REDEMPTION. 
 
 Through the Atoning Mercy of the Lord ; 
 The kingdom of the righteous ; lo ! tlie world, 
 The sinless world, the purcliased world of Christ; 
 Him the rejected and despised of man ! 
 How shall I sing the glory of that place ? 
 So all excelling, that this lordly earth, 
 With its broad waters, pathless sea and land, 
 Cities and multitudes, and kings, and tlrrones; ' 
 Is as a lonely and a herbless waste. 
 To that surpassing world, bclov'd of Ilcav'n ; 
 Whose mansions were upraised, by hands divine, 
 Prepared from all eternity beneath 
 Tlie holy shadow of Jehovah's throne. 
 
 O I thou, the cradle of the swarming earth, ^'^ 
 Persepolis ! beloved of Iran's race ; 
 Whose hills look down upon the beauteous plains. 
 Where, lo ! the throne of Jemshid was uprais'd ; 
 Shall it be thine to strike the poised beam, 
 When weigh'd against the kingdom of the just ? 
 Thou wert a glorious city once, indeed. 
 Of palaces and temples, peerless both ; 
 Ev'n in their ruin dazzling to the sight :
 
 58 REDEMPTION. 
 
 Where now, within thy domes of i-oyal rest, 
 Roams the rapacious world in thirst of prey, 
 Or herds secure from their destroyer, man ; 
 Or there the vulture and the serpent roost ; 
 Or trailing reptile leaves his slimy track, 
 Upon the polish'd floors, where erst thy kings, 
 In festal glory, quaff'd the gracious cup ; 
 Ev'n where the Conqueror, in his dooming glee. 
 At Siren's banter gave thee to the flames. 
 
 Or wilt thou, Babylon, despoiled one, '"> 
 Whose glory long hath passed from the earth ? 
 Thou city of a hundred brazen gates. 
 And countless tow'rs, and heav'n-scaling walls ? 
 Thou that didst dare the God of Israel, lo ! 
 And set up senseless idols to adore, 
 In proud defiance of His mighty pow'r. 
 
 Or wilt thou, chosen of Almighty God, '"' 
 Whose mem'ry the dread curse of murder stains ; 
 Of impious murder, ev'n of God's own Son ; 
 Him, thy rejected monarch, Christ, the Lord, 
 Was slain at Calvary, and buried, lo ! 
 And rose again the Saviour of the world. 
 Thou, in whose trust the Holy symbols lay ;
 
 REDEMPTION. O'J 
 
 Whose beauty, too, the Lord's own temple grac'd ; 
 Till the dread heathen razed thee to the ground, '»' 
 And led thy people captive through the world ; 
 Where yet they wander, as without a home, 
 A fearful witness of his will and pow'r. 
 
 Or thou that bear'st the dread blasphemer's name, '5' 
 More honour'd in the primal church of Christ 
 And patriarchs and preachers far than he ? 
 
 O, wilt thou, Nmevah? or Tyrus, thou? ''"' 
 
 Or thou, the throne of infidels, where still 
 The crescent rides triumphant o'er the Cross? 
 
 Or Tadmor, thou, the city of the palms, '") 
 Rear'd in the desert, proiully and alone ? 
 Whose ruin'd glories were so long immur'd. 
 As if for aye they'd pass'd them from the earth ; 
 Till they, the trav'ler's vision struck with awe. 
 With sudden and surprised ecstasy, 
 As they had been some bright Arabian scene. 
 Raised by the pow'r of sorcery, to mock 
 The houseless wanderer in his lonehness : 
 Thou, who didst cradle the sublime of thought. 
 Whom lo ! an ingrate Queen to death consign'd. 
 To appease her conqueror in his vengeful mood ?
 
 60 REDEMPTION. 
 
 Or thou, the boasted seat of sculptur'd lore, ^'-> 
 Philosophy, and poesy, and arms ? 
 
 Or thou, imperial and pontifie Rome, ''^> 
 Wilt thou be weigh'd against the perfect one 1 
 
 Shall all the cities of the world conjoin'd, 
 With those that now have pass'd from earth for aye, 
 Weigh with the splendour of that glorious one. 
 The sinless city of a chosen race ? 
 
 Lo ! they but dimly shine, compared with thee, 
 Thou spotless region, — as a taper's rays 
 Before the splendour of the glorious sun, — 
 Lost in its broad immensity of light. 
 
 Such is the holy place, so wond'rous fair. 
 Which Heav'n has rear'd him for himself and thee. 
 Ye that shall be accepted of the Lord : 
 Within whose regions dwell a glorious throng 
 Of Saints and Prophets, Patriarchs, and lo ! 
 Martyrs who died unshrinking for the faith, 
 In holiest concord round the throne of God, 
 Forever, where unceasingly they sing : —
 
 REDEMPTION. 61 
 
 Hear, O ! ye Heav'ns, and give car, O ! earth, 
 Ye beauteous stars that mark'd tlie Saviour's birth, 
 Eternal praise to God above, 
 Whose Laws are Mercy, Trutli, and Love. 
 
 His is that wondrous, omnipresent pow'r, 
 Which men and angels shall bow down before ; 
 
 His is that omnipresent eye, 
 
 From which nor lieav'n nor earth shall fly. 
 
 His is that omnipresent Providence, 
 
 Which succours all things, — tho' they know not whence, 
 
 Or where, or how it comes, — but feel 
 
 That it has pow'r to Save and Heal. 
 
 Where'er they kneel, wherever they adore. 
 His Universal Spirit there shall pour 
 
 Its holy influence o'er the place. 
 
 And sanctify it with His Grace. 
 
 None shall be heard in vain, in vain shall cry 
 For mercy of their God, who's ever nigh. 
 
 With hands out-stretched to receive 
 
 All who repent them and believe. 
 
 G
 
 62 REDEMPTION. 
 
 Almighty and supreme, in Heav'n and earth, 
 Pure and eternal, without form or birth. 
 Who shall declare Thy hiding place. 
 Whose glory owns nor shape nor space ? 
 
 E'en as an eagle hovers o'er her nest. 
 
 He watches all things from His glorious rest : 
 
 Nor man, nor living thing shall fall. 
 
 But He is near to note it all. 
 
 His Heav'n-distilled dews descend from high ; 
 His rains are pour'd nutritious from the sky ; 
 
 And corn and oil, and flowers abound ; 
 
 And trees and verdure clothe the ground. 
 
 How wond'rous do the ocean-waters roll ; 
 
 How wond'rous blow the winds from pole to pole ; 
 How wond'rous rise and set the sun. 
 And moon and stars, Almighty One — 
 
 Thine be the glory, Thine th' eternal praise. 
 Who gave to man his life, with length of days ; 
 Who wouldst not leave his soul in hell. 
 But died to save him when he fell.
 
 REDEMPTION. 63 
 
 E'en as the stork leads forth, with anxious sight, 
 Her tender young to teach them early fliglit ; 
 So led'st Thou forth, with anxious hand, 
 Thy people tow'rds the Promised Land, 
 
 And, lo ! when thirst and hunger did oppress 
 
 Their fainting bodies in the wilderness, 
 
 Dry rocks the gushing stream pour'd forth, 
 And bread from Heav'n was rain'd on earth. 
 
 Yet for all this, Thy Mercy, Love, and Grace, 
 They turn'd them, heedless, from their Maker's face ; 
 
 And worshipp'd, with their songs and praise, 
 
 A molten calf, with idle gaze. 
 
 Till He was wrath who'd loosed them from their bands, 
 And cast the Cov'nant Tablets from His hands ; 
 
 And broke their god, and slew them, lo ! 
 
 Who'd sinn'd against Jehovah so. 
 
 "to" 
 
 Thus shall they perish who reject the Lord, 
 And His redeeming Mercy, Love, and Word ; 
 Who else had seen that promised place, 
 Where Heav'n reveals His glorious face.
 
 64 REDEMPTION. 
 
 His is the kingdom, His the world to come ; 
 
 His is the sinless, the eternal home ; 
 
 The glorious kingdom, lo ! the shore 
 Where the dark reign of sin is o'er. 
 
 Hear O ! ye Heavens, and give ear, O ! earth. 
 Ye beauteous stars that mark'd the Saviour's birth ! 
 Eternal praise to God above, 
 Whose laws are Mercy, Truth, and Love. 
 
 END.
 
 REDEMPTION. 
 
 NOTES TO PART THE FIRST. 
 
 Note 1 , Line 20, Page G. 
 
 " When, from tlie several corners of the earth 
 " Each particle invisibly shall cjme, 
 
 * «- * * * * * 
 
 " Man, in his humanity again, 
 
 " Sliall stand reveal'd before his glorious judge" — 
 
 Since it behoves every one " to give a reason for tlie faitli that is 
 in him," if the author were asked wliether lie believes that, at the 
 Great Day of Judgment, man will be raised up from the tomb 
 with all his fleshly imperfection, as at the moment of his dissolution 
 they disfigured his body, he should truly answer, ' Yes' ! — though, 
 no doubt, those who shall pass into a state of Eternal Glory, will 
 then " put on" a pure, perfect, and immortal nature. And lie 
 grounds his belief upon this circumstance especially, that Christ so 
 rose from the dead. For when the Apostle Thomas questioned 
 the identity of his Divine Master, " Reach hither thy finger, and 
 behold my hands ; and reach hither thy hand, and thrust it into my 
 
 g2
 
 £JQ NOTES TO 
 
 side,'' were the Saviour's words ; thereby shewing beyond the 
 possibility of doubt, that he it was who suffered ; and that, al- 
 though he had been raised up into everlasting life, being the first 
 fruits of Redemption, yet that He still carried about Hiin the 
 imperfections of the flesh, the witnesses of His sufferings upon the 
 Cross, that " seeing they might believe." And these fleshly im- 
 perfections of the body, the author is fain to believe, will be a part, 
 and a positive part, of the evidence upon which man's guilt shall be 
 " made manifest" before God. In some, such as the Martyrs and 
 the like, they shall be " imputed unto them for righteousness ;" in 
 others, as " a sin unto death." To those who may ask, how this 
 miraculous re-organization of matter is to be accomplished, being 
 himself satisfied that there is an Omnipotent Power " from whom 
 no secrets are hid," he is content to answer in the words of the 
 Apostle, " With God all things are possible." 
 
 Note 2, Line 16, Page IS. 
 " Sela-Hamalekoth." 
 
 The mountainous and rocky country where David with his 
 followers had taken refuge from the fury of Saul, and from 
 whence that Monarch was called off from pursuing him to oppose 
 the progress of the army of the Philistines, was called Sela- 
 hamalekoth, or the Rock of Separations.— (I. Sam. xxiii. 28.) 
 
 NotelJ, Line 19, Page 3 L 
 
 " Oh ! 'tis a batb, a deadly poison'd bard, 
 " Ingratitude from children !" 
 
 The following melancholy, but true story, the principal " out- 
 cast" actor in which the author believes to be still living, will too
 
 redemption;. q'j 
 
 amply bear him out in the terms in which he has reflected upon 
 the dreadful results consequent upon the disobedience and in- 
 gratitude of children towards their parents: — 
 
 " I was my father's son, tender and only beloved in the 
 " sight of my mother." 
 
 PllOVEKBS, iv. 3. 
 
 Arthur Kensington was the only son, indeed the only child, of a 
 man of family and fortune, formerly resident near the British 
 metropolis. He was bred up liy his amiable parents with the 
 utmost tenderness and anxiety ; and being possessed of what 
 is termed " quick parts," before he arrived at the age of man- 
 hood, he was master of several languages, and excelled in all 
 those polite accomplishments considered necessary to form the 
 character of a gentleman, and to qualify him to move in that 
 sphere of life in which both his birth and prospects entitled him to 
 rank. Being, however, inclined to prodigality, and his fond 
 parents too readily supplying him with the means of indulging in 
 so dangerous a propensity, he gradually launched into a run of 
 expensive habits, which ended in the most disastrous consequences 
 both to himself and friends. He found, alas! no difficulty in cul- 
 tivating the acquaintance of boon companions, who having ex- 
 hausted their own means by a similar course of living, were too 
 ready to help him on in the work of destruction, lie soon became* 
 under their schooling, a confirmed " man of ton," and early 
 suffered himself to be ridiculed into an abandonment of his 
 paternal home. A separate establishment nmst be had and sup- 
 ported in the most expensive style. Horses, carriages, dress, 
 banquetting, all of the most profuse and extravagant description, 
 followed. None but the most choice and expensive wines could 
 be suffered at his table, till he became, and avowed himself, — so 
 shameless are men in pursuits of fashionable vices, as they are 
 denominated,— a rake and a gamester. His parents, at length.
 
 68 NOTES TO 
 
 ventured to chide ; but, alas ! they were now only laughed at as 
 " plebeian and old-fashioned ;" and their extreme love and 
 tenderness for an only child would not permit them to refuse him 
 money. Falling, at length, into the hands of sharpers, to whom 
 his recklessness and inexperience made him an easy prey, he was 
 the repeated loser of thousands. Money must be had ; — his 
 parents now wept and entreated, but in vain ; — the paternal estate 
 was first mortgaged and then sold, to support his extravagance and 
 pay his losses at play. This sufficed but for a brief space to meet 
 his engagements. The same reckless course was pursued ; — more 
 money must be had, and at any sacrifice. The only remaining 
 trifle, for such it really was, in his hands — his poor fond mother's 
 jointure, which realised some thousands, was soon dissipated in 
 the society of the sharper and the courtesan. Pennyless, and 
 abandoned by an ungrateful child, the father survived his ruin 
 but for a brief space, and lingered out the lamp of his earthly 
 existence in a madhouse. His mother, but a little removed from 
 the same bereaved state of mind, found an asylum with a relation ; 
 but soon followed her partner in misery, where sorrow no longer 
 prevails. The son, in the meantime, pursued the same reckless 
 career, till he, at length, became the inmate of a prison for debts 
 he was totally unable to liquidate. Nothing, however, now 
 affected his demoralized heart ; for having obtained his liberty, he 
 launched into his old habits, and attempted to supply himself 
 with funds by the aid of forgery. He was detected in his first 
 attempt ; and with the aid of one who had known him in his purer 
 days, almost miraculously escaped an ignominious death, by flying 
 to a foreign land, where he now lingers out the remnant of his 
 wretched existence, a prey to unavailing regret and heart-burning 
 remorse, an alien and an outcast! — without an eye to weep for, a 
 hand to succour, or a tongue to cry " God bless him!"
 
 REDEMPTION. Qy 
 
 Note 4, Line 17, Page 32. 
 
 " Ev'n as the Pelican would rend its breast." 
 
 The Pelican, tlie great white species of whicli is said to live a 
 hundred years, is remarkable for its peculiar care and tenderness of 
 its young ; and it has been asserted, by some writers, that, in an 
 extremity, when their necessary foods fails them, they feed them 
 with the blood from their own breasts, which they rend open with 
 their bills for that purpose. But however desirable it might be, it 
 is observed, to invest any part of the creation with such a charm, — 
 such a tragical instance of parental devotedness, — there is now no 
 doubt but it was a mistaken idea, which arose from some not very 
 intelligent travellers seeing the parent-bird feed its offspring from 
 the contents of its red pouch, or water-bag, which it does by 
 pressing it against its breast. And, indeed, an indifferent observer 
 might easily come to such a conclusion. It has also been said of 
 them, that in case their nests should take fire, they flap their wings 
 over them for the purpose of extinguishing the flames, and will 
 rather perish thereon than forsake them. The Jews are forbade 
 to eat the flesh of the Pelican, (Levit. x. 18), whose chief sus- 
 tenance is fish, which they take by hovering over the water, and 
 suddenly darting down on their prey, which they very seldom 
 miss securing, from the enormous size of their gape. After 
 having taken as many as they can conveniently carry, they retire 
 to some solitary rock, where they swallow them at their leisure. 
 When two or more, in quest of food, happen to meet together, in 
 company with Corvorants, the Pelicans spread their wings in a 
 circle some little distance from the land, flapping them whilst the 
 latter dive, and thereby driving their prey into a smaller compass, 
 they take them with less difficulty. The Chinese are said, on 
 account of this sagacity of both birds, to use them for domestic 
 fishing. The Pelican is observed to make its nest in the deserts, 
 very far remote both from the habitations of man and from the
 
 ^0 NOTES TO 
 
 waters. Hence the simile of the prophet David, in his distresses, 
 I am like a Pelican in the wilderness, (Psahin cii. 6.) Why it re- 
 tires so far from that element whence its entire sustenance must 
 be derived, Providence alone can suggest, since it thereby entails 
 upon itself the labour of bringing water as well as food to its 
 young an immense distance in its pouch. Hence it has been 
 called, by the Persians, Kick \Tacah, or Water-carrier. Camels 
 and other beasts are said to take advantage of their abode in the 
 wilderness, and frequently to resort to their nests in order to 
 quench their thirst ; and as if grateful for, and sensible of, the ad- 
 vantage derived from such a supply, never injure or disturb their 
 young. 
 
 Note 5, Line 4, Page 34. 
 
 " Ev'n as ^neas bore from reeking Troy 
 " The sacred burthen of an aged sire." 
 
 Anchises, the father of iEneas, was a Trojan Prince, of the 
 family of the reigning King Priam. When the Greeks surprised, 
 sacked, and burnt Troy, he was so extremely helpless from old 
 age, as to be unable to fly from the surrounding dangers. But 
 the first care of his son, " the pious jEneas," as he has been 
 called, was the preservation of his aged father's life ; and, taking 
 him on his shoulders, bearing his household deities, and leading 
 his youthful son, Ascanius, by the hand, he fled with his sacred 
 burthen towards the Trojan vessel, followed by his wife, the 
 Princess Creusa, who was a daughter of the unfortunate King 
 Priam. The fugitives all reached their destination, and embarked 
 in safety, except the Princess ; who, losing herself in the mazes 
 of the city, perished by the way. jEneas set sail with his fleet, 
 and after many hardships, touched at Sicily ; where his father 
 dying, he buried him with great honour, and raised a magnificent 
 mausoleum over his remains. — Vikgil's JEneid.
 
 REDEMPTION. • >7 1 
 
 Note 6, Line 7, Page 34. 
 " Ev'n as the Stork watch o'er its parent bird." 
 
 The Stork lives to a very considerable age, and it has been related 
 of them, that such is their attachment for their parent-birds, that 
 when from age, or any other cause, they become too feeble to fly 
 themselves, their offspring take them on their backs, and convey 
 them to places of safety, and otherwise protect and sustain them. 
 Their excessive affection for their young is notorious, of which the 
 female Stork that perished at the conflagration in Delft is a sur- 
 prising instance. After having made various unsuccessful attempts 
 to carry off her unfledged progeny, she chose rather to die with 
 them, than leave them to their fate ; and, betaking herself to her 
 nest, actually perished thereon with her ofTspring. " A Suttee," 
 as Mr. Murray justly observes, in his Researches into Natural 
 History, "worthy of record!" "Nor is this," he adds, "an 
 insulated luminous spot in their remarkable lives." There are 
 many other incontestible proofs of similar affection and devotion 
 recorded. The parent-birds are a model of excessive attachment 
 to their offspring : as soon as they are capable of exercising their 
 pinions, they bear them on their own wings, and then lead them 
 gently in circles round their nest. Hence the beautiful image in 
 the Scriptures, " He shall bear them up as on an Eagle's tvings," is 
 literally true of the Stork — personified emblem of what is " lovely 
 and of good report." They have ever been regarded with kindly 
 and welcome feelings in countries where they abound ; and the 
 trust they repose in man, whilst it merits his protection, seems not 
 to be misplaced. Thus the Stork may be seen at noon-day, in 
 some towns in Holland, walking at its ease, and undismayed at 
 the presence of man, in the thronged and busy streets, and pro- 
 curing his food unmolested upon the verges of rivers, canals, fens, 
 &c. ; and they are themselves not only passively harmless, but 
 positively useful, devouring greedily all sorts of noxious and
 
 72 
 
 NOTES TO REDEMPTION. 
 
 dangerous reptiles, such as abound in marshy countries. In 
 ancient Egypt, the Stork was esteemed sacred, second only to the 
 Ibis, and was enshrined amongst the divinities of that land of 
 gods. In some places, indeed, laws have been enacted for its 
 preservation and protection ; and wherever it has become a resi- 
 dent, whether in the East, in Africa, in Switzerland, or in Holland, 
 kindly feelings have always been generated in its favour. In the 
 latter place, it either builds its nest on the house-tops amidst the 
 din and bustle of population, or else selects the summits of the 
 loftiest trees for that purpose. Verifying the words of the royal 
 Psalmist, " The trees of the Lord are full of sap : the Cedars of 
 Lebanon ; which he hath planted where the birds make their 
 nests : as for the Stork, the fir-trees are her house." In Holland, 
 their house-top nests frequently remain undisturbed for many 
 years ; the builders of them returning regularly to the cherished 
 spot in their " appointed time." The joy manifested on these 
 occasions, expressive of their attachment to their patron host, is 
 truly an anthem of thankfulness and gratitude for their protection. 
 
 END OF NOTES TO PART THE FIRST.
 
 REDEMPTION. 
 
 NOTES TO PART THE SECOND. 
 
 Note 1, Line 17, Page 40, 
 " Lest Heathen worshippers, anon, exult." 
 
 It is said of The Persees, an amiable, though a heatlien race, 
 in Heron's translation of Niebuhr's Travels in the East, that they 
 make " common contributions for the aid of their poor, and suffer 
 none of their number to ask alms from the people of a different 
 religion ;" and, it is added, they " are equally ready to employ 
 their money and credit to save a brother of the fraternity from the 
 abuses of justice." 
 
 Note 2, Line 9, Page 54. 
 
 " Lest thou should'st fare, and be, alas ! cut off, 
 *' As was the dread Profaner with his host !" 
 
 Antiochus Epiphanes.— See the Tenth Volume of Rollin s 
 Ancient History, and the subsequent Note 4. 
 
 H
 
 74 NOTES TO 
 
 Note 3, Line 14, Page 55. 
 
 " Then Eleazar ! Then the holy Dame ! 
 
 " With all her glorious otFspring were cut off." 
 
 One of the most illustrious amongst those who resisted the ter- 
 rible persecution of Antiochus Epiphanes, who refused either to 
 fail away from his observations of the law, or the worship of the 
 true God, was Eleazar, a Doctor of the Law, and a venerable old 
 man, ninety years of age, whose long life had been one continual 
 series of spotless innocence. Preferring a glorious death to a 
 criminal existence, when commanded to eat swine's flesh, resisting 
 the endeavours made to open his mouth that they might force 
 him to swallow it, he went voluntarily to execution, perseveringly 
 resolute not to infringe the law to save his life. Some friends 
 present, moved with an unjust compassion, took him aside, and 
 earnestly besought him to permit them to bring him such meats 
 as the law allowed him to eat, in order that it might be imagined, 
 that he had eaten of the meats of the sacrifice, pursuant to the 
 king's command, and thereby save his life. But Eleazar, con- 
 sidering only what his great age, the noble and generous senti- 
 ments he was born with, and the life of purity and innocence 
 which he had led from his infancy, required of him, answered 
 them, pursuant to the Ordinances of the Holy Law of God, that 
 he would prefer death to such a course, '• It would be shameful," 
 was his reply, " for me, at this age, to use such an artifice, which 
 would occasion many young men, upon the supposition that 
 Eleazar, at fourscore and ten years of age, had embraced the 
 principles of the heathens, to be imposed upon by the deceit 
 which I should have employed to preserve the short remains of a 
 corruptible life ; and thereby I should dishonour my old age, and 
 expose it to the curses of all men. Besides, supposing I should, by 
 that means, for the present, avoid the punishment of men, I could 
 never fly from the hand of the Almighty, neither in this world, nor
 
 REDEMPTION. 
 
 75 
 
 in tliat which is to come. For this reason, if I lay down my life 
 courageously, I shall appear worthy of my old age ; and shall 
 leave behind me, for the imitation of young people, an example 
 of constancy and resolution, by suffering patiently an honourable 
 death, for the sake of our venerable and holy laws." No sooner 
 had Eleazar ended this speech, than he was dragged to execution, 
 the officers who had hitherto looked upon him with humanity, 
 now becoming furious at what they termed his pride. When the 
 torments which he suffered had made him ready to breathe his 
 last, he vented a deep sigh, and said, " O Lord ! Thou who art 
 possessed of the holy knowledge, thou seest that I, who could 
 have delivered myself from death, do yet suffer ciuel agonies in 
 my body ; but in ray soul, find joy in my sufferings, because I 
 fear Thee." Thus died this holy man, leaving, by his death, not 
 only to the young men, but to the whole nation, a glorious 
 example of virtue and resolution worthy of imitation. 
 
 But the most remarkable instance of constancy and self- 
 devotion to the true God, and His Law and Ordinances, was the 
 Mother and her Seven Sons. — See Rollin's Ancient Hist. 
 vol. 10. 
 
 Note 4, Line 11, Page 56. 
 
 " And he, the murderer and blasphemer, died, 
 " Confessing God alone was great and just !" 
 
 King Antiociius, adds Rollin, hearing that his most powerful 
 armies were overthrown by the remnant of the persecuted 
 Israelites, under Judas Maccabeus, in his unbridled rage and 
 fury, vowed to make Jerusalem the burying-place of the whole 
 Jewish nation, and not to leave a single inhabitant therein. He 
 ordered his charioteer to drive the faster, that he might the sooner 
 satisfy his vengeance ; but had scarce uttered the blasphemous 
 expressions, when he was himself struck by the hand of God:
 
 76 
 
 NOTES TO 
 
 being seized with incredible pains in his bowels, and excessive 
 pangs of the cholic. But still his pride was not abated even by 
 this shock ; so far from it, that, suffering himself to be hurried 
 away by the wild transports of his fury, and breathing nothing 
 but vengeance against the Jews, he gave additional orders for pro- 
 ceeding with all possible speed in the journey. As his horses 
 were running impetuously forward, he fell from his chariot, and 
 was thereby grievously injured in every part of his body. His 
 attendants were forced, in consequence, to put him into a litter, 
 where he suffered inexpressible torments. Worms crawled from 
 every part of him ; his flesh fell away piecemeal ; and the stench 
 was so great, that it became intolerable to the whole army. Being 
 himself unable to bear it, " It is meet," said he, " to be subject 
 unto God; and man, who is mortal, should not think himself as 
 if he were a God." 
 
 Note 5, Line 14, Page 57. 
 
 " Oh ! thou, the cradle of the swarming earth." 
 
 The erudite Sir William Jones asserts in his writings, that the 
 Persian monarchy is the oldest in the world. If such be the 
 jase, it is but natural to suppose that Persia, or Iran, was the 
 original seat of the human race, from whence colonies were either 
 sent forth, or emigrated of themselves, to people the rest of the 
 habitable parts of the globe. Indeed, it is a supposition he actually 
 makes out, and strongly confirms by his remarks on the most 
 ancient language of Persia, which he shews to have been the 
 parent of the Sanscrit, as well as of the Greek, Latin, and Gothic. 
 He holds it to be a proposition firmly established, " that Iran, or 
 Persia, in its largest sense, was the true centre of Population, of 
 Knowledge, of Language, and of Jrts. Which, instead of travelling 
 westward only, as has been fancifully supposed, or eastward, as 
 with equal reason might have been asserted, were expanded in ali
 
 REDEMPTION. 
 
 77 
 
 directions to all regions of the world." He thinks it is from good 
 authority, also, that the Saxon Chronicle brings the first in- 
 habitants of Britain from Armenia ; that the Goths have been 
 concluded to come from Persia ; and tliat both the Irish and the 
 Old Britons have been supposed to come from the borders of the 
 Caspian. For all these places, it is observed, were included in the 
 ancient Iriln. 
 
 The original splendour of this celebrated city, with its superb 
 ruins, are luminously described in the writings of the distin- 
 guished Danish traveller, Niebuhr. 
 
 Of the Royal Palace of Persepolis, 
 
 the former residence of the Kings of Persia, it is said, that it was 
 of such rare beauty as, perhaps, has never been excelled since 
 the Creation of the World. It stood on a rocky hill, and occupied 
 about fifty acres of ground ; being surrounded, according to 
 Diodorus Siculus, with a triple wall, the first of which was sixteen 
 cubits high, the second double that height, and the innermost was 
 sixty cubits high, all of marble. The palace itself was of a square 
 form, and had brazen gates on each side. The halls and apart- 
 ments were exceedingly spacious and lofty, and the walls of them 
 adorned with noble sculptures, some of which still remain to 
 testify its splendour. The cedar roofs shone with gold, silver, 
 ivory, and other precious materials. The throne was of pure 
 gold, embellished with pearls and precious stones ; whilst the fur- 
 niture of the chambers was rich beyond description ; the bed- 
 steads being of solid gold, inlaid with gems. This palace, 
 together with the surrounding city, was given to the flames by 
 Alexander the Great, at the instance of Thais, the Athenian 
 courtesan. 
 
 h2
 
 78 NOTES TO 
 
 Note 6, Line 10, Page 58. 
 
 " Or wilt thou, Babylon, despoiled one ; 
 
 " Thou city of a hundred brazen gates, 
 
 " And countless towers, and heav'n-scaling walls .'" 
 
 The city of Babylon, the capital of Chaldea, was one of the most 
 superb that ever existed. Its form was an exact square, four hun- 
 dred and eighty furlongs, or sixty miles, in circumference ; fifteen 
 on each side ; built in a large plain. The walls were eighty-seven 
 feet in thickness, and three hundred and fifty in heiglit ; on which 
 were built three hundred and sixteen towers ; or, according to 
 others, two hundred and fifty, three between each gate, and seven 
 at each corner. These walls and towers were constructed of large 
 bricks, cemented together with bitumen, a glutinous slime which, 
 in that country, issues out of the earth, and, in a short time, grows 
 harder than the very bricks or stones which it cements. Without 
 the wall, the city was surrounded by a ditch, filled with water, 
 and lined with bricks on both sides. This ditch must have been 
 extremely deep and large, as the whole earth of which the bricks 
 for building the walls was formed, was dug out of it. The gates 
 were an hundred in all, twenty-five on each side; and all of them 
 of solid brass. From these ran twenty-five streets, crossing each 
 other at right angles, each one hundred and fifty feet wide, and 
 fifteen miles in length. A row of houses faced the wall on every 
 side, with a street of two hundred feet wide between them and 
 it. Thus the whole city was divided into six hundred and seventy- 
 six squares, eacli whereof was four furlongs and a half on every 
 side. All around these squares stood the houses fronting the 
 streets, and the empty spaces within served for gardens, and other 
 purposes. It does not appear, however, whether all these 
 squares were wholly built or inhabited. From Curtius's account 
 of it, when Alexander was there, it cannot safely be inferred 
 what part might be inhabited in its meridian lustre, before Cyrus
 
 REDEMPTION. 
 
 79 
 
 took it. Nimrod, the first king of Babylon, and, perhaps, in the 
 world, is generally allowed to have been the founder of this city. 
 Belus, who with some is made contemporary with Shamzar, Judge 
 of Israel, and Queen Seniiramis, are said to have further enlarged 
 and adorned it. But Nebuchadnezzar, or he and Nitocris, his 
 daughter-in-law, finished it and made it one of the wonders of 
 the world. The ihhabitants of Babylon, and places adjacent, were 
 excessively credulous, superstitious, and debauched. Tlie idols 
 of the Babylonians were Bel, Nebo, Sheshach, Nergal, Merodach, 
 their goddess Succoth-benoth, and Fire. The Babylonians pre- 
 tended to great skill in astrology, soothsaying, and magic, (Dan. 
 ii. 2; iv. 7; v. 7; Lsa. xlvii. 12,) and from hence these pretended 
 sciences spread into Canaan, (lsa. ii. 6,) if not into Egypt. 
 Indeed, idolatry, afterwards so prevalent, is supposed to have had 
 its origin here. 
 
 Note 7, Line 17, Page 58. 
 
 " Or wilt thou, chosen of Almighty God ?" 
 
 Jerusalem.— See Brown and Calmet's Dictionaries of the Bible ; 
 and Robinson's Theological Dictionary. 
 
 Note 8, Line 2, Page 59. 
 
 " Till the dread Heathen razed thee to the ground, 
 " And led thy people captive thro' the world, 
 " Where yet they wander, as without a home, 
 " A fearful witness of his will and pow'r !" 
 
 The present state of the Jewish nation is a subject replete with 
 a most wonderful confirmation both of the past and present, with 
 a shadowy splendour of the future, which none but the true be- 
 liever in the Divine Revelation of Christianity can really feel, or
 
 30 NOTES TO 
 
 duly appreciate. If, indeed, there had ever been a plausible 
 reason for man to doubt the truth of the Divine Predictions con- 
 tained in the Holy Scriptures, the merciful and miraculous per- 
 fecting of which have wrought the Redemption of Mankind, the 
 present state of the Jewish nation must be received as a surprising 
 confirmation of them. And it would be just as possible for any 
 single disbeliever of Divine Revelations to bring together the 
 remnant of the Jewish people, scattered as they are over the 
 whole face of the habitable globe, and of his own will and pleasure 
 to form them into one simple and compact body, and to give them 
 laws and institutions distinct from all other nations of the earth, 
 such as was decreed them aforetime, as for him to shew any single 
 instance, upon any plausible ground, in which their present state 
 does not, with a just and a surprising exactness, bear out the re- 
 markable prophecies contained in the Sacred Writings, concerning 
 this no less remarkable people. 
 
 Note 9, Line 6, Page 59. 
 
 " Or thou, that bear'st the dread Blasphemer's name." 
 
 Antioch, the capital of Syria, now Anthakia, is thought to 
 be the same with Riblath, in the land of Hamath, where Nebu- 
 chadnezzar spent his time during part of the siege of Jerusalem, 
 slew Zedekiah's children, put out his eyes, and put to death some 
 other chief men of Judah. It stood on both sides of the river 
 Orontes, now Assi, about twelve miles from the Mediterranean 
 Sea; and near it was the famous temple of Daphne. It was about 
 ten miles in circuit; was the residence of Alexander's Syro- 
 Grecian successors; and one of the riciiest and most flourishing 
 cities in the world. Here the Jews held equal rights with the 
 Greeks ; and it was loaded with additional honours and privileges 
 by the Roman Emperors, Vespasian and Titus, as well as others.
 
 REDEMPTION. 
 
 81 
 
 Here Paul and Barnabas preached a considerable time ; here it 
 was that Peter dissembled in refusing to eat with the Gentiles, 
 and here the followers of Jesus v/ere first called Christians, a few 
 years after His Ascension, from which circumstance it has probably 
 been asserted, that the first Christian church was founded there. 
 (Acts ix. 19—27 ; xiv. 2G ; xv. 35 ; Gal. ii. 11.) 
 
 Note 10, Line 9, Page 59. 
 
 " Or wilt thou, Nineveh ? or Tyrus, thou ? 
 
 " Or thou, the throne of Intidels, where still 
 
 " Tlie Crescent rides triumphant o'er the Cross .'" 
 
 These three cities have all been celebrated both for good and 
 evil report. The first, Nineveh, was the capital of Assyria, and 
 was built by Ashur, the son of Shem, from whom this ancient 
 kingdom derived its name. He, being offended with the tyran- 
 nical usurpation of Nimrod, at Babel, renjoved to the north- 
 east, where he built Xineveh, and several other cities. (Gen. x. 1 1.) 
 There seems no doubt but that it stood on the banks of the Tigris, 
 but whether on the eastern or the western side, is not agreed. 
 Probably on the eastern, almost opposite the present Mosul. It 
 was, in its glory, one of the largest and most superb cities in the 
 world, and required three days for the prophet Jonah to go 
 through it, proclaiming its overthrow. (Jonah iii. 3.) 
 
 Tyre 
 
 was a celebrated city of Phoenicia, on the borders of the Mediter- 
 ranean Sea; now scarcely to be traced by its ruins, though, in its 
 glory, it commandeil almost all the trade of the known world. 
 Its merchants were princes; and its warriors, mariners, and pilots, 
 the chosen men and sages of itself and the surrounding cities and 
 nations. — See the Prophet Ezekiel.
 
 f^O NOTES TO 
 
 Constantinople 
 
 may fairly be said to be the city where " the Crescent rides trium- 
 phant o'er the Cross," from the very few privileges Christians 
 possess therein. This, the ancient Byzantium, is undoubtedly 
 one of the most celebrated cities in Europe, though sadly depre- 
 ciated since it became the capital of the Ottoman empire. Con- 
 stantine the Great cliose it for his abode, and rebuilt it after the 
 model of Rome. It is most delightfully and most desirably 
 situated, between the Black Sea and the Archipelago ; from 
 whence it is readily supplied with all necessaries. The harbour 
 is said to be spacious enough to hold twelve thousand ships. 
 Notwithstanding the barbarous hands in which this superb city 
 has been for now nearly four hundred years, there are a great num- 
 ber of ancient monuments still remaining entire ; particularly the 
 superb temple of St. Sophia, (which has been turned into a mosque,) 
 far surpassing all the rest, as a witness of its " faded glories." At 
 the present time, the houses are but mean, especially on the out- 
 side, where there are few or no windows; and where the tho- 
 roughfares being very narrow, they give them a melancholy look. 
 The streets are seldom or never clean, and the people are unfor- 
 tunately infested with the plague almost annually. They are 
 half Turks ; two-thirds of the other part Christians, and the rest 
 Jews. The city is built in the form of a triangle, and being on a 
 gradually rising ground, there is a grand panoramic view of the 
 whole from the sea. It was taken by the Turks, A.D. 1453, and 
 may certainly now be considered as held by them, by the suffer- 
 ance of the Christian monarchs of Europe. 
 
 Note 11, Line 12, Page 59. 
 
 " Or Tadmor, thou, the city of the palms." 
 
 Tadmor, or Palmyra, whose name, both in the Latin and in the 
 Syriac, denotes a multitude of palms, stands about two hundred
 
 REDEMPTION. §3 
 
 miles south-east of Aleppo, and was formerly a royal and magni- 
 ficent city in Asia, situated amidst the deserts of Arabia. It is 
 said to have been originally built by Solomon, (2 Chron. viii. 4,) 
 and is celebrated as the birth-place and residence of Longinus, 
 chief minister to Zenobia, the last Queen, who shamefully sacri- 
 ficed him to the pique of the Romans. After her city was sub- 
 dued, she was herself made captive by the Emperor Aurelius, and 
 led in triumph through the streets of his capital. The magnificent 
 remains of this renowned city were accidentally discovered, by 
 some English travellers, from Aleppo, somewhat more than a 
 century ago, after having, for many hundred years, lain hid in the 
 vast expanse of the sandy plains of Arabia. They were subse- 
 quently visited by Messieurs Uawkins and Wood, in 1754; and 
 the latter published a splendid description of tlieni, illustrated 
 with beautiful engravings, in the following year. The inhabitants 
 now consist of about thirty or forty fugitive families, living in mud 
 cottages, which they have reared within the spacious court of the 
 magnificent Temple of the Sun, the most superb of its sinking 
 edifices. The ruins of this still splendid city, as they now exist, 
 consist of the proud remains of palaces, temples, and porticos of 
 Grecian architecture, scattered over an extent of several miles. 
 The most remarkable is the Temple of the Sun, the ruins of which 
 are truly magnificent, and are spread over a square of two hundred 
 and twenty yards. It was encompassed by a stately wall, built of 
 large square stones, and adorned with pilasters, both within and 
 without, to the number of sixty-two on a side. Within the court, 
 are two rows of very noble marble pillars, thirty-seven feet high, 
 with their capitals of most exquisite workmanship. Of these, only 
 fifty-eight remain entire ; but there must have been many more, 
 for they appear to have gone round the whole court, and to have 
 supported a double piazza. The walks on the side of the piazza, 
 which is opposite to the front of the castle, seem to have been the 
 most spacious and beautiful. At each end of this line, are two 
 niches for statues, with their pedestals, borders, supporters, and
 
 34 NOTES TO 
 
 canopies, carved with the utmost propriety and elegance. The 
 space within tliis enclosure, which is now filled with the dirty huts 
 of the inhabitants, seems to have been an open court, in the 
 middle of which stood the Temple, encompassed with a row of 
 pillars of a different order and much taller, being fifty feet in 
 height ; but of these, only sixteen remain. The whole space 
 contained within these pillars is fifty-nine yards in length, and 
 nearly twenty-eight in breadth. The Temple itself is no more 
 than thirty- three yards in length, and about fourteen in breadth. 
 It points north and south; and exactly in the middle of the build- 
 ing, on the west side, is a most magnificent entry, on the remains 
 of which are some vines and clusters of grapes, carved in the 
 most bold and masterly imitation of nature that can be conceived. 
 Just over the door are observed a pair of wings, which extend its 
 whole breadth ; the body to which they belong is totally destroyed; 
 and it cannot now be ascertained whether it was that of an eagle 
 or a cherub, several representations of both being visible on other 
 fragments of the building. 
 
 It was visited by Bruce, before his journey into Abyssinia, 
 who informs us, that before he came in sight of its magnificent 
 ruins, he ascended a hill of white gritty stone, in a very narrow 
 winding road, called a pass ; but on reaching the top of the hill, 
 his eyes were struck with the most stupendous sight which he 
 believes mortal ever saw. The whole plain below, which is very 
 extensive, was so covered with magnificent buildings, that they 
 seemed to touch one another. All of them finely proportioned, 
 agreeably shaped, and composed of white stone ; which, at a dis- 
 tance, appeared like marble. He took draughts of them, dividing 
 them into several views ; which drawings, on his arrival in Eng- 
 land, he presented to his late Majesty, George the Fourth; as 
 superb an offering, it is observed, as, perhaps, any subject could 
 make his prince.
 
 REDEMPTION. gg 
 
 Note 12, Line 1, Page 60. 
 
 " Or thou, the boasted seat of sculptur'd lore, 
 " Philosophy, oiid Poesy, and Arms." 
 
 Athens is a word whicli overwhelms the iiiiiul with a multitude 
 of glowing thoughts and images, such as no other subject con- 
 nected with earthly grandeur, not even Ronio herself, vast as was 
 her dominion and fame and splendour, can call forth. Where 
 shall be found such a galaxy of names, as array themselves imder 
 the broad shadow of Athenian Glory, both as philosophers, orators, 
 legislators, poets, historians, sculptors, mathematicians, painters, 
 heroes, patriots, or warriors? Let Aristotle and I'lato — Demos- 
 thenes and Pericles— Solon and Lycurgus— Homer and Euripides 
 — Xenophon and Herodotus — Phidias and Praxiteles — Euclid and 
 Archimedes — Apelles and Parrhasius — Leonidas and his three 
 hundred— Cimon and Aristides — Miltiades and Theniistocles— the 
 conquerors at Plataea, Salamis, and Marathon, witii thousands of 
 others, no less illustrious in the annals of Greece, answer the 
 question! Yet how lamentably sunk in the scale of nations is 
 Athens, the cradle of so much that is great and wonderful, once 
 the proud capital of the kingdom of Attica. Iti early times, that 
 which was afterwards called the Citadel, was the whole city, and 
 was known by the name of Cecropia, from its founder, Cecrops, 
 whom the Athenians affirm to have been the first builder of cities, 
 and called it, by way of eminence. Polls, that is. City. It, how- 
 ever, lost the name o{ Cecropia, and acquired that oi Athens, in 
 the reign of Erichtlionius ; on what account is not ascertained. 
 Hut it was probably in honour of Minerva, the goddess of wisdom, 
 arts, and arms, whom the Greeks called Athene, and esteemed 
 its protectress. The old city was situated on the top of a rock, 
 in the midst of a large and pleasant plain, which as the number 
 of inhabitants increased became overspread with buildings and 
 habitations for men and beasts, from which arose the distinc- 
 
 I
 
 86 NOTES TO 
 
 tion of Aero and Catapolis, or Upper and Lower City. The ex- 
 tent of the Citadel was sixty stadia, and was surrounded with 
 olive groves ; and, as some assert, fortified with strong palisades. 
 In succeeding times it was encompassed with a strong wall, in 
 which there were nine gates. One very large, the rest small. 
 The inside of the Citadel was adorned with innumerable edifices, 
 the most remarkable of which was the magnificent Temple of 
 Minerva, styled the Partlienion, because that goddess was a virgin. 
 The Persians destroyed it ; but it was rebuilt, with much greater 
 splendour, by the celebrated Pericles ; who had it constructed of 
 the finest marble, and with such skill and strength, that in spite 
 of the ravages of time and the barbarous nations to whom Athens 
 has been subject, it still remains, perhaps, the first monument of 
 antiquity in the world ; and stands a proud witness of the truth 
 of what ancient writers have recorded of the prodigious magni- 
 ficence and splendour and architectural beauty of Athens in her 
 glory. The second in rank was a temple dedicated to the same 
 goddess, and to Neptune ; being divided into two parts, in one of 
 which was the salt fountain, sacred to the god, and said to have 
 been produced by a stroke of his trident; the other part was 
 consecrated to the goddess, protectress of Athens, wherein was the 
 sacred olive, which she produced ; and her image, which is said 
 to have fallen down from heaven in the reign of Erichthonius. 
 The principal edifices which adorned the lower city, were the 
 Temple of Theseus, erected by Conon ; and the Olympian Temple 
 erected in honour of Jupiter, all Athens, and all Greece. The 
 foundation was laid by Pisistratus; but it was seven hundred 
 years before it was completed, whicli happened in the reign of 
 Adrian, who was a great patron of Athens. This was the first 
 building in which the Athenians beheld pillars. The next in rank 
 was the Pantheon, a most superb structure, and, like that of Rome, 
 dedicated to all the gods. It is supported by one hundred and 
 twenty marble pillars, and has over its great gate two horses 
 carved by Praxiteles. This Temple is still standing. In several
 
 REDEMPTION. 
 
 87 
 
 parts of it were stavi, or porticos, under which people walked in 
 rainy weather, and from whence a sect of philosophers were de- 
 signated Stoics, because Zeno taught therein. There was also at 
 Athens, two places called Ceramictis, from Ceramus, son of Bac- 
 chus and Ariadne: one within the city, containing a multitude 
 of buildings of all sorts ; the other in the suburbs, in which was 
 included the Academy and other edifices. The Gymnasia of 
 Athens were many ; but the most remarkable were the Lyceum, 
 Acadeinia, and Cynosarges. The first stood on the banks of the 
 Ilissus, and was built, as some afiSrm, by Pisistratus, whilst others 
 give it to Pericles, or Lycurgus. Here it was that Aristotle taught 
 philosophy, instructing such as came to him as they walked; and 
 hence his disciples are supposed to have received the name of 
 Peripatetics. The name of the Academy is said, by some, to 
 have been derived from Academus, an ancient hero, who, when 
 Helen was stolen by Theseus, discovered the place where she 
 lay hid to Castor and Pollux ; others say, that they had two 
 Ascalians in their army, by name Academus and Marathus, and 
 that the first gave the name to the Academy, and the other to 
 Marathon. 
 
 The city is now called Athini and Sentines, and in its present 
 state presents to the eye a deplorable picture of its former great- 
 ness ; not containing ten thousand inhabitants, of whom three 
 parts are Christians of the Greek Church. Enough, however, 
 remains to shew, that fame can scarcely do justice to the memory 
 ofaraceof men who carried every thing they attempted to the 
 pinnacle of earthly perfection. " The Acropolis," says the erudite 
 traveller, Dr. Chandler, " was filled with monuments of Athenian 
 glory, and exhibited an amazing display of beauty, of opulence, 
 and of art, each contending, as it were, for superiority. It ap- 
 peared as one entire offering to the Deity, surpassing in excel- 
 lence, and astonishing in richness. Heliodorus, named Perie- 
 getes, the guide, had employed on it fifteen books. The curiosities 
 of various kinds, with the pictures, statues, and pieces of sculp-
 
 gg NOTES TO 
 
 ture, were so many and so remarkable, as to supply Poleno 
 Periegetes, with matter for four volumes ; and Strabo affirms, that 
 as many would be required in treating of other portions of Athens 
 and Attica. The number of statues, in particular, was prodigious. 
 Tiberius Nero, who was fond of images, plundered the Acropolis, 
 as well as Delphi and Olympia ; yet Athens, and each of these 
 places, had not less than three thousand remaining in them in the 
 time of Pliny. The chief ornament of the Acropolis was the 
 Parthenon, or Great Temple of Minerva ; a most superb and mag- 
 nificent fabric. The Persians had burnt that which before occu- 
 pied the site, which had been called Hecatompedun, from its being 
 one hundred feet square. The zeal of Pericles, however, and of 
 the Athenians, was exerted in providing a far more glorious resi- 
 dence for their favourite goddess ; the architects of which were 
 Callicrates and Ictinus ; and a treatise on the building was written 
 by the latter and Carpion. It was constructed of white marble, 
 of the Doric order, the columns fluted and without bases, the 
 pillars in front eight, and adorned with admirable sculpture. The 
 story of the birth of Minerva was carved on the front pediment, 
 and in the back her contest with Neptune for the country. The 
 beasts of burthen which had conveyed up the materials were re- 
 garded as sacred, and recompensed with pastures ; and one, that 
 had voluntarily headed the train, was maintained, during life, 
 without labour, at the public expense. The statue of Minerva, 
 made for this Temple by Phidias, was of ivory, twenty-six cubits, 
 or thirty-nine feet in height. It was decked with pure gold 
 to the amount of forty-four talents, so disposed, by the advice 
 of Pericles, as to be taken off and weighed, if required. The 
 goddess was represented standing, with her vestments reaching to 
 her feet. Her helmet had a sphinx for the crest, and on the sides 
 were griffins. The head of Medusa was on her breast-plate. In 
 one hand she held her spear, and in the other supported an image 
 of victory about four cubits high. The battle of the Centaurs and 
 the Lapithae was carved on her sandals ; and on her shield, whicl*
 
 REDEMPTION. 
 
 89 
 
 laid at her feet, the wars of the gods and the giants and the battle 
 of the Athenians and Amazons. By her spear was a serpent, in 
 allusion to the story of Erichthonius, and on the pedestal the 
 birth of Pandora. The Sphinx, the Victory, and the Serpent, were 
 accounted eminently wonderful. This image was placed in the 
 Temple in the fourth year of the eighty-seventh Olympiad ; when 
 the Peloponnesian war began. The gold was stripped oft' by tlie 
 tyrant Lychares, when Demetrius Poliorcetes obliged him to fly. 
 The same plunderer plucked down the golden shields in the Acro- 
 polis, and carried away the golden victories, with the precious 
 vessels and ornaments provided for the Panathencpan festival." 
 The Pantheon, it is recorded, remained entire for many ages after 
 it was deprived of the goddess. The Christians converted it into 
 a church, and the Mahometans afterwards into a mosque, which 
 Wheeler and Spon, in 1676, assert to have been the finest in the 
 world. When the Venetians under Koningsmark, in 1687, be- 
 sieged the Acropolis, they threw a bomb which demolished the 
 roof, setting fire to some powder which greatly injured the fabric, 
 and was the sad forerunner of other destructive proceedings; for 
 the Turks broke up the stones and applied them to other build- 
 ings. The floor still exhibits the indenture where this missile 
 fell. There are many other magnificent remains ; amongst the 
 rest, that of the Temple of Jupiter Olympius consists of prodi- 
 gious columns, tall and beautiful, of the Corinthian order, fluted ; 
 some single, more supporting the architraves, with a few massive 
 marbles beneath. The colunms are of extraordinary dimensions, 
 being about six feet in diameter and sixty in height. The num- 
 ber without the cell was one hundred and sixteen, or one hundred 
 and twenty, of which seventeen were standing in 1676.
 
 g(y . NOTES TO 
 
 Note 13, Line 3, Page 60. 
 " Or thou, imperial and pontitic Kome." 
 
 To describe fully the magnificent remains of this once mighty 
 mistress of the known world, and the marvellous deeds associated 
 with its name and history, would be the occupation of the life of 
 man, however prolonged, or however sedulously employed. Her 
 palaces, her capitol, her forum, her amphitheatres, her temples, 
 and her aqueducts ; her senators, her orators, her poets, and her 
 historians ; her warriors, her princes, her glory, and her de- 
 clension, singuli si7)gulis, would each form a subject for a separate 
 work, replete with characteristics of all that is great and wonderful 
 of its kind. What a subject, even now, for a reflective mind to 
 dwell upon ! When Romulus either raised or enlarged it, after 
 the Etrurians, in the year of the world, as some suppose, 3254, it 
 contained but about three thousand people, and those a sort of 
 banditti. In the Emperor Trajan's days, so vast had been its 
 growth, that its walls were fifty miles in circumference, and its 
 inhabitants amounted to near seve7i millioii.t. In the present day, 
 under the Pontificate, they scarcely amount to two hundred 
 thousand, and its circuit is but about ten Italian miles. At its 
 foundation it gradually increased, till it extended over seven hills ; 
 and, at last, it is said, that it occupied thirteen. It now exhibits a 
 curious mixture of magnificent, interesting, and of common and 
 beggarly objects. The former consisting of palaces, churches, 
 fountains, and other the remains of antiquity ; the latter compre- 
 hending all the rest of the city — a living example of the saying. 
 From the sublime to the ridiculous there is but one step. The most 
 noted objects of modern Rome are St. Peter's Church, which was 
 one hundred years in building ; and the Vatican, or Winter-palace 
 of the Pope, which comprehends within ils interior space, about 
 twelve thousand five hundred chambers, halls, and other apart- 
 ments and offices. Here is deposited, perhaps, the most valuable
 
 REDEMPTION. QJ 
 
 of earth's treasures — the choicest and richest library, consisting of 
 books and manuscripts probably not to be ciiualled by the whole 
 world. The Vatican is also admired for its paintings, its grand 
 staircase, and a garden called, by way of eminence, Belvedere, 
 containing the finest collection of exotics in the world. Some have 
 imagined that St. Peter's Church, the work of the master-minds of 
 Michael Angelo, and others, adorned, as it has been, by the 
 creative pencil of a Raphael, surpasses in size and magnificence 
 the finest monuments of ancient architecture. It is incrusted with 
 marble; its length about seven hundred and thirty feet, and 
 breadth five hundred and twenty; its height from the basement 
 to the cross which crowns the cupola, is about four hundred and 
 fifty feet; its statues, basso-relievos, columns, and innumerable 
 other ornaments, are marvellous for their splendour. Of the 
 remains of ancient Rome, the Pantheon is the most perfect of her 
 temples still extant ; and is a beautiful specimen of Roman taste, 
 notwithstanding the shocks and depredations it has sustained from 
 Goths, Vandals, and under the authority and countenance of the 
 Popes. The pavilion of the great altar, which stands under the 
 cupola of St. Peter's, and the four wreathed pillars of Corinthian 
 brass which support it, were formed out of the spoils of the 
 Pantheon ; which, after one thousand eight hundred years, has 
 still a probability of out-living its more capacious and proudly 
 lifted-up rival. Its circular form has obtained for it the name of 
 the Rotunda. It is about one hundred and fifty feet in height; 
 is nearly the same in breadth; and is without windows, the doors 
 admitting a sufficiency of light. This temple, which the Romans 
 originally erected to the honour of all their gods, as its original 
 name indicates, has been converted into a Christian Church, and 
 is dedicated to the virgin, and all the martyrs and saints of the 
 Roman Catholic Church. The other monuments of ancient 
 Rome are too numerous to be described here ; suflitce it to say, 
 that as the Pantheon is the most perfect, the Amphitheatre of the 
 Emperor Vespasian is tiic most stupendous monument of an-
 
 92 
 
 NOTES TO 
 
 tiquity. And although but one half of its external circuit still 
 remains, there is sufficient to form a pretty correct idea of the 
 extent and magnificence of this structure as a whole. 
 
 The author will, perhaps, be pardoned the vanity of subjoining 
 the following Sonnet to this brief notice, which has already been 
 before the public under the title of 
 
 THE TEARS OF VIRGIL. 
 
 " Un beau fantome, au visage vermeil, 
 " Sur un rayon detache du soleil — " 
 
 La Pucellb. 
 
 As if the Heavens had reveal'd the sight, 
 Robed in the majesty of other years, 
 A spirit-form, whose eyes were dim with tears, 
 Stood on the capitol's revered height 
 Surveying Rome — imperial, fallen Rome ! 
 For century on century had pass'd 
 Since he had gaz'd on Caesar's palace last. 
 And laid him low in his neglected tomb ! * 
 I knew the Seer — 'twas Maro — he who sung 
 In honied accents her ennobled birth ; 
 Nor little dream'd that, least upon the earth. 
 Pitied and powerless, and prone among 
 
 The kingdoms of the world, a Ctesar's throne 
 Should live, in after days, by fame alone ! 
 
 * " The tomb of Virgil," says the author of Italy as it Is, " is a 
 little above the entrance of the grotto (Posilippo) on one side of it. It 
 is a little round building, containing pigeon-holes for sepulchral vases ; 
 the laurel has withered, unwilling any longer to bear testimony to the
 
 REDEMPTION. 
 
 93 
 
 deceits practised and believed In its nciglibourhood. Wliere, then, was 
 Virgil's tomb I If here, which niche of them all held his ashes ? For 
 there is nothing now in any of them, A pleasing illusion is dissipated ; 
 but ' Le sage n'est jamais heureux.' " And "The reader will learn with 
 regret," says Eustace, " that Virgil's tomb, consecrated, as it ought to 
 be, to genius and meditation, is sometimes converted into the retreat of 
 assassins, or the lurking-place of Sbirri. Such it was, at least, the last 
 time we visited it, when wandering that way about sun-set, we found it 
 tilled with armed men. We were surprised on both sides, and on ours 
 not very agreeably at the rencontre, so lonely the place and so threaten- 
 ing the aspect of these strangers. Their manners, however, were 
 courteous; and on inquiry we were informed that they were S/zirri 
 laying in wait for a murderer, who was supposed to make that spot his 
 nightly asylum. Few places are in themselves more picturesque, and 
 from the recollections inseparably interwoven with it, no spot is more 
 interesting than the tomb of Virgil. The hill, or mountain of Posilipo, 
 on which the sepulchre stands, is beautiful in the extreme, and is justly 
 lionoured with its appellation, for no scene is better calculated to 
 banish melancholy and exhilarate the spirits."
 
 THE SONG 
 OF THE SPIRIT OF HIRAM. 
 
 «•**•* Tu pensl 
 
 Forse a questa ruina " — Dante. 
 
 Alone, with desolate vastness around, 
 The Spirit of Hiram in majesty stood, 
 In tlie gloom of decay, by the Tyrian flood, 
 
 But where were his princes and palaces found ? 
 
 The tenantless region his eye could not scan ; 
 
 The ocean roU'd over where monarchs had frown'd ; 
 When Tyre was the pride and the glory of man, 
 
 And man, in his foolishness, God would he crown'd ! ''' 
 
 Now stood he, his purple the sport of the air, '^' 
 With none to bow down to his glorified brow; 
 
 A trembler — and sung, in the depth of despair, 
 Of Hiram and Tyre in their glory and woe : —
 
 96 THE SONG OF 
 
 SONG. 
 
 ■ 
 I. 
 
 ' Queen of tlie Ocean, now no more, f^' 
 ' Arise ! I'd see thee as of yore, 
 ' When Hiram, in imperial state, 
 ' Amidst his tliousaiid Princes sate ; 
 ' And Tyre, as from a charmed birth, 
 ' The fairest city of the earth, 
 ' Rose from the bosom of that deep, 
 ' Does o'er her now so reckless sweep. 
 
 IL 
 
 ' I love to swell the glorious theme, 
 
 * As poets of the mighty dream ; 
 
 ' To chronicle in bm'ning song 
 
 ' The past as witli a prophet-tongue : 
 
 ' Yes, 1 could dwell upon the strain 
 
 ' Till Tyre and Hiram were again, 
 
 ' Great as when first from greatness liurl'd 
 
 ' The king and mistress of tlie world ; —
 
 THE SPIRIT OF HIRAM. 97 
 
 III. 
 
 ' Till all the well-remember'd scene 
 
 ' Again were fair as it has been, 
 
 ' Which like an Arab vision shone 
 
 ' Around a universal throne/ 
 
 ' When Hiram's was the princely dow'r 
 
 • Of beauty, valour, wealth, and power, 
 ' Such as the Tyrians own'd of yore, 
 
 ' Such as the Tyrians know no more : 
 
 IV. 
 
 * Such as upon an ocean-throne, 
 
 ' As if they'd have all others prone, 
 
 ' Proudly thy builders bade thee rise 
 
 ' Before the world's adoring eyes : 
 
 ' Such as when Macedonia's lord 
 
 ' Assail'd thee with his conquering sword ; 
 
 ' And Arvad's warriors were thy shield, 
 
 ' And Persia's host was in thy field. 
 
 V. 
 
 ' I see my palaces arise, 
 
 ' And proudly towering to the skies ; 
 
 K
 
 98 THE SONG OF 
 
 ' My princes thronging in my halls ; 
 ' My cities girt with mighty walls ; 
 ' My ships along the busy strand, 
 • As countless as the drifting sand, 
 ' Laden with goodly treasures meet 
 ' To lay, O ! Tyrus, at thy feet. 
 
 VI. 
 
 ' And lo ! a world of vessels ride 
 
 ' Careering o'er the subject tide ; 
 
 ' Spreading, to catch the subject gale, 
 
 ' The gold and purple broider'd sail ; 
 
 ' Their rowers all a princely band 
 
 ' From Sidon and the Arduan land ; 
 
 ' Their pilots are the Tyrian seers; 
 
 ' Their freights the world's most precious wares. 
 
 VII. 
 
 ' And priceless gems in Hiram's halls, 
 ' From ermin'd robes and garnish'd walls, 
 ' From couch of gold and ivory such 
 ' As would bo taint with mortal touch,
 
 THE SPIRIT OP HIRAM. 
 
 * Are raying round the Tyrian throne 
 ' Witli splendour such as Tyre alone, 
 
 * Or Tyrian Monarchs should behold, 
 
 ' Or should by Tyrian tongues be told. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 * Again upon the Tyrian throne 
 
 ' Shall Hiram sit, the Mighty One 
 
 ' Whose pow'r unquestioned shall go forth 
 
 ' From east to west, from south to north : 
 
 ' In ev'ry clime, in ev'ry land,^''' 
 
 ' Shall Princes to his fiat bend, 
 
 ' And hear his will, and do his word, 
 
 ' As bonded serfs obey their lord. 
 
 IX. 
 
 ' Again the Wisest of the East*'' 
 
 * Shall court him in the mental feast, 
 < And wager in the mystic strife^ 
 
 * A treasure worth a Prince's life ; 
 
 * And pour upon the Tyrian shores 
 
 ' His corn and oil in plenteous stores ; 
 ' And Hiram shall requite his toil 
 
 * With precious wares and forest spoil. 
 
 99
 
 100 THE SONG OF 
 
 X. 
 
 ' And pleasure with enchanter's power, 
 ' In mimic scene and fairy bow'r, 
 ' With ^Yinged foot and siren tongue, 
 ' Shall lead the Tyrian virgin throng ; 
 
 * And beauties rare shall wake the lyre, 
 
 * Voluptuous dance and dulcet choir, 
 ' Array 'd, as orient maidens are, 
 
 ' In costly robes and jewels rare. 
 
 XL 
 
 ' The sportive limb, the captive smile, 
 ' The eye of witchery and Avile; 
 , The tempting bosom bar'd to view, 
 ' The cheek of early rose's hue ; 
 ' The love-enticing grace of form 
 ' Again shall Hiram's bosom warm ; 
 ' Again around his throne be seen, 
 ' Iinag'd as lovely as they've been. 
 
 XII. 
 
 ' Fill high the cup with festive wine, 
 ' And bid the royal banquet shine,
 
 THE SPIRIT OF HIRAM. 101 
 
 ' Of viands rare, on massive gold, 
 
 * Such as the Tyrians would behold; 
 
 * And whilst Aleppo's precious draught 
 
 * In proud festivity ir quaff 'd, 
 
 ' Let the loud trumpets' brazen strain " 
 < Proclaim that Ilirara rules again. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 'Send to the corners of the earth 
 
 * Loud echo upon echo forth, 
 
 ' Upon the wind's world- spreading wings, 
 ' That all the universe of Kings 
 
 * May learn 'tis Hiram who commands, 
 
 * And come, with tribute in their hands, 
 
 * To humble them before his face, 
 
 * And reign, as erst, by Tyrian grace. 
 
 XIV. 
 ' Do I command, and none obey ? 
 ' My subject-princes, where are they ? 
 ' In dust, perhaps, they mould'ring lie ;— 
 
 * " In dust .'" an echo makes reply : 
 
 K 2
 
 ]0'2 THE SONG OF 
 
 ' Then all have perish'd which I'd see? 
 : « pgrish'd !" an echo answers me — 
 ' Perish'd, and Hiram stands alone, 
 ' Without a subject or a throne ! 
 
 XV. 
 
 ' My palaces, my peerless dames, 
 ' Glory and empire scarcely Fame's ! 
 ' And is it thus we proudly toil, 
 ' For wasteful Time to make a spoil 
 ' Of all the mightiest empires were ? 
 ' Of all the proudest Princes rear? 
 ' Away, then, Hiram, to the tomb, 
 ' And mingle with thy kindred loam! 
 
 XVI. 
 ' Away * * * * * * ' 
 
 ' *■ * * * * * * * 
 ' * * «- * * * * «- 
 
 c* * « * * « * • 
 
 (« * ^ « « * « •
 
 THE SPIRIT OF HIRAM. 103 
 
 ' Away ! away !' 
 
 E'en Echo could no more, 
 And Hiram's pow'rs of song for aye were o'er. 
 His royalties in ether died away ; 
 And lo ! the Monarch stood, without array, 
 Who once dictated to a world of thrones, 
 A wither'd skeleton of sapless bones : 
 Nor eye to sec, nor tooth was there to bite ; 
 Nor tongue to curse, nor vengeful arm to smite ; 
 But dust as powerless, as void of strife, 
 As that which first receiv'd the breath of life : 
 For, lo ! the wind the desert-region crost. 
 And with the passing breeze the form was lost — 
 And where was once a Universal Throne, 
 Reigns desolation, silent and alone ; 
 And there, upon the boastful Tyrian shore. 
 Where Hiram's mighty city stood of yore, 
 The seal of God's omnipotence is set, — 
 For there the fisherman still spreads his net.* 
 
 * Ezekiel xxvi. 5.
 
 NOTES 
 
 TO 
 
 THE SONG OF THE SPIRIT OF HIRAM. 
 
 Note 1,, Line 8, Page 95. 
 " And man, in his foolishness, God would be crown'd." 
 
 Son of man, say unto the Prince of Tyrus, Thus saith the 
 Lord God, Because thine heart is lifted up, and thou hast said, 
 I am a god, I sit in the seat of God, in the midst of the seas ; yet 
 thou art a man, and not God, though thou set thine heart as the 
 heart of God." — Ezekiel, xxviii. 2. 
 
 Note 2, Line 9, Page 95. 
 " Now stood he, his purple the sport of the air." 
 
 Tyre, in her glory, was famous for the Tyrian purple, which 
 was extracted from the shell-fish called Murcx, and was so dear 
 that it was used by none but Princes. " Nunc omnis ejus nobilitas 
 clioncylio atque purpura constat." — Plin. Nat. Hist. v. 17. 
 
 The honour of inventing scarlet has also been given to them : 
 " Cum gemmis Tyrios mirare colores." — IIor. Ep. vi. lib. 1.
 
 THE SONG OF THE SPIRIT OF IIIRAM. 105 
 
 Note 3, Stanza I. Line 1, Page 9G. 
 
 " Qtiecn of the Ocean !" 
 
 '* None of tlie cities which were formerly famous," says Has- 
 selquist, in his Iter Palastinuni, printed at Stockholm in 1757, 
 " are so totally ruined as Tyre (now called Zur), except Troy. 
 Zur scarcely can be called a miserable village, though it was once 
 Tyre, the Queen of the Sea." And Maundrel, in his Journey 
 from Aleppo to Jerusalem, printed in 1707, one of the most intel- 
 ligent of modern travellers, who visited the Holy Land, 1697, 
 observes, " This city, standing in the sea, upon a peninsula^ 
 promises, at a distance, something magnificent; but when you 
 come to it, you find no similitude of that glory for which it was 
 renowned in ancient times, and which the pr()i)het Zekicl describes 
 (chap. XXV. vii. and viii.). On the north side it has an old Turkish 
 ungarrisoned castle ; besides which, you see nothing here but a 
 mere Babel of broken walls, pillars, vaults, &c. ; there being not 
 so much as an entire house left. Its present inhabitants are only 
 a few poor wretches, harbouring themselves in the vaults, and 
 subsisting chiefly by fishing: who seem to be preserved in the 
 place by Divine Providence, as a visible argument, how God has 
 fulfilled his word concerning Tyre, that it should be as the top of 
 a wall; a place for fishers to dry their nets upon (Ezek. xxvii. 14)." 
 It was anciently insular and continental. The first was the oldest, 
 and was the one noticed by Joshua. It was confined to a small 
 rocky island, about eight hundred paces long and four hundred 
 broad. The continental city, however, being more commodiously 
 situated, first grew into consideration, and assumed the name of 
 PaltFtijrus, or Old Tyre. This city stood about half a mile from the 
 sea, and must have been of vast extent, since many centuries after 
 its demolition by Nebuchadnezzar, King of Babylon, against whose 
 force it sustained a siege of thirteen years' duration, the scattered
 
 1Q5 NOTES TO 
 
 ruins measured nineteen miles, as we learn from Pliny and Strabo. 
 It also withstood the power of the mighty Assyrian Prince Shal- 
 manesar, who in vain beleagured it for five years ; although he 
 cut off their supply of water from the celebrated cisterns of Rosa- 
 layne, which they remedied by building wells in the city. These 
 are the most curious and surprising relics of Old Tyre: three 
 still remain entire, one or two furlongs from the sea. They are 
 supposed to be the well in the Canticles (iv. 15), As a fountain of 
 gardens, a well of living waters, and streams from Lebanon. " The 
 fountains of these waters," says Maundrel, " are as unknown as 
 the contriver of them. According to common tradition, they are 
 filled from a subterraneous river, which King Solomon discovered 
 by his great sagacity ; and that he caused these cisterns to be made 
 as a part of his recompense to King Hiram, for the materials fur- 
 nished by that Prince towards building the Temple at Jerusalem. 
 It is certain, however, from their rising so high above the level of 
 the ground, that they must be brought from some part of the 
 mountains, which are about a league distant ; and it is certain, 
 also, that the work was well done at first, seeing it performs its 
 office as well at so great a distance of time, — the Turks having 
 broken an outlet on the west side of the cistern, through which 
 there issues a stream like a brook, driving four corn-mills, between 
 it and the sea." From these cisterns was an aqueduct which led 
 to the city, supported by. arches, about six yards from the ground, 
 running in a northerly direction about an hour, when it turns to 
 the west, at a small mount, where anciently stood a fort, but nov? 
 a Turkish mosque, which seems to ascertain the site of the old 
 city. Thence it proceeds over the isthmus which connects insular 
 Tyre with the main, constructed by Alexander the Great, when 
 he besieged and captured it, — the event referred to above. This 
 he was enabled to do with the materials of Old Tyre; for the 
 Tyrians, finding themselves unable any longer to hold out against 
 Nebuchadnezzar, after a thirteen years' siege, removed all their 
 effects to the insular town, leaving nothing to the visitor but the
 
 THE SONG OF TIIE SPIRIT OF IIIRAM. JQT 
 
 bare walls, which he demolished; little dreaming that these ruins 
 would furnish means to a second conqueror, by which they would 
 insure their own ultimate destruction. Insular Tyre, reviving, it is 
 said, like a Phoenix from the ashes of the old city, had grown to 
 immense power and opulence as a maritime state, when Alexander 
 appeared with his powerful army before its walls ; and with the 
 abandoned ruins of the old city, constructed that prodigious cause- 
 way, or isthmus, by which he established a land connexion with 
 insular Tyre, that enabled him, after an obstinate siege of seven 
 months, to storm and subdue it ; when he set fire to it : thereby, 
 in a most remarkable manner, fulfilling the prophecy: " Tyre 
 shall build herself a strong hold, and heap up silver as the dust, 
 and fine gold as the mire of the streets. Behold the Lord will 
 cast her out, and He will smite her power in the sea, and she shall 
 be devoured with fire:" which happened B.C. 332. 
 
 Pococke, in his Observations on Palestine, 1745, observes, 
 " There are no signs of the ancient city ; and as it is a sandy 
 shore, the face of everything is altered, and the great aqueduct 
 is, in many parts, almost buried in the sand." 
 
 Insular Tyre so far recovered her calamities under Alexander, 
 as, eighteen years after, to withstand the power of Antigonus, who 
 persevered in a severe siege of fourteen months before he reduced 
 the city. It then fell under the alternate rule of the Kings of 
 Egypt and Syria; then of the Romans; until it was taken by the 
 Saracens, inG3'J, from whom it was rescued by the Crusaders, 1124; 
 and at length it was sacked and razed to the ground by the Mame- 
 lukes of Egypt, together with Sidon, and other strong towns, 
 that they might no longer harbour the Christians, in 1289. The 
 inhabitants had become zealous Christians, and it was made the 
 first Archbishopric under the Patriarchate of Jerusalem. " Near 
 the aqueduct without the town," says Pococke, " I saw a ruin 
 which probably is the place where, according to a tradition they 
 had in the middle ages, though it is now lost, our Saviour preached, 
 when he came into the parts of Tyre and Sidon ; and in this coast
 
 108 NOTES TO 
 
 it was that he cured the daughter of the Canaanitish woman 
 (Matt. XV. 21. Mark vii. 24). And St. Paul was at Tyre when 
 they dissuaded him from going up to Jerusalem, on apprehending 
 what dangers would befal him (Acts xxi. 34). According to Strabo, 
 Herodotus, and other ancient writers, the buildings of Tyre were 
 extremely magnificent. It had walls surrounding it, one hundred 
 and fifty feet high, of a proportionate breadth ; two harbours, large 
 and capacious; a powerful fleet; and was built, as some assert, 
 B.C. 2760 years. Hercules was the chief deity of the old Tyrians, 
 and a temple, dedicated to him, existed in the time of Alexander 
 the Great, which the priests of Tyre affinned to have been built 
 at the same time with the city. 
 
 Note 4, Line 19, Stanza VIII., Page 99. 
 
 " In ev'ry clime, in ev'ry land, 
 " Shall Princes to his fiat bend." 
 
 The Tyrians were not only powerful on account of their vast 
 fleets, but they added to that power by founding colonies and 
 cities in different parts of the world. Carthage, Gades, Utica, &c., 
 were among the latter, afterwards distinguished by the epithet, 
 Tyrla. — See the ^neid of Virgil, &c. 
 
 Note 5, Line 13, Stanza IX., Page 99. 
 
 ' " Again the Wisest of the East 
 
 " Shall court him in the mental feast." 
 
 Hiram, the Prince of Tyre, who was the son of Abibal, is men- 
 tioned by profane writers as distinguislied for his magnificence,
 
 THE SONG OF THE SPIRIT OF HIRAM. ] Qy 
 
 and for adorning the city of Tyre. He sent ambassadors to David, 
 when he was acknowledged King by all Israel, with artificers and 
 cedar to build him his palace ; and he also sent other ambassadors 
 to coiigratiilats Solomon on his succession to the crown ; who 
 desired of him timber and stones for building the Temple, witii 
 labourers; which were promised, provided he would supply Hiram 
 with corn, oil, Src. (Joseph. Antiq. lib. 8, cap. 2). Both of which 
 were performed (I. Kings, v. and x ). These two princes lived in a 
 mutually good understanding. Dius ( Apud Joseph, contra Appion, 
 lib. 1), who wrote the Annals of Tyre, says that they corresponded, 
 and in the time of Josephus, Hiram's letters, with the answers of 
 Solomon, were still extant. He also, together with Menandcr of 
 Ephesus, speaks of certain riddles which these two Princes pro- 
 posed to each other for solution. Dius relates, that Solomon first 
 sent some to Hiram which the latter being unable to expound, 
 paid him a large sum of money ; but that afterwards solving them, 
 with the assistance of one Abdemon, and proposing others to 
 Solomon in his turn, which he was unable to expound, Hiram 
 received a much larger sum than he had forfeited. \\'hcn Solo- 
 mon had finished all his works (I. Kings, vii.), as some recompense 
 for the aids he had received, he presented Hiram with twenty 
 towns in Galilee, which, when the latter beheld, he was displeased 
 therewith, and called it the Land of Chahiil ; exclaiming, " Are 
 these, my brother, the towns which you have given me ?" (1. Kings 
 ix. 11.) From the fourteenth verse of the same chapter, itappears 
 " Hiram sent to the King six score talents of gold ;" which was 
 equal to £057,000 of our money. " And this is the reason of the 
 levy which King Solomon raised, For to build the house of the 
 Lord, and his own house, and mills, and the wall of Jerusalem, 
 and Hazor, and Magiddo, and Gczer." 
 
 " And the navy also of Hiram, that brought gold from Ophir, 
 brought in from Ophir great plenty of Almug-trees, and preeiom; 
 stones."
 
 GOD'S EVIDENCE OF HIMSELF. 
 
 " Tout rit ; <lu Ijrmameiit serein 
 
 " S'ouvre h nos yeux le superbe portique, 
 
 " O Dieu ! sois doiix et pacifique 
 
 " Comme I'ouvrage de ta main I" 
 
 Vise. Chatkaubriaxd. 
 
 Should a vain Sceptic, with capricious mind, 
 Ask, how the universe was first design 'd ? 
 Nature, indignant, with reproof replies, 
 ' Confide, proud mortal, in thine ears and eyes ; 
 ' Look round the world, behold the work divine, 
 ' And ask thy finite heart — if it he thine ?' 
 
 From the broad forest to the humble gow'n, '^' 
 That's 'neath our heedless footsteps trodden down ; 
 From the snow-cover 'd Blanc, that climbs on high, 
 E'en to the veil of Heaven, the azure sky,
 
 112 god's evidence of himself. 
 
 Down to the humble hillock, where the mole 
 
 Does in his subterranean caverns prowl ; 
 
 Or to tlie swarming ant-hill, where there dwell <''^' 
 
 A nation, as within a citadel ; 
 
 From brawling waters to the babbling brook 
 
 Which flows unseen in some sequester 'd nook ; 
 
 From the dread thunder and the lightning's ire, 
 
 To whispering breezes and the glow-womi's fire ; 
 
 From pi'egnant Ocean— but what tongue can tell 
 
 The nameless worlds that in her bosom dwell ? 
 
 She rolls a marvel ; and it is to me 
 
 A paradise to wander by the sea, 
 
 And ponder o'er the glorious mystery, — 
 
 As if I gaz'd upon His holy shrine. 
 
 Whose hand eternal pois'd the work divine ; 
 
 God, my Creator, glorious be His name, 
 
 Jehovah, as reveal'd from holy flame, 
 
 When Moses in the sacred Presence stood, 
 
 Prepar'd to lead his bi-ethren thro' the flood ; 
 
 When the Almighty, with a marv'lous hand, 
 
 llescu'd thee, Israel, from the heathen band ; 
 
 And vengeful Pharaoh and his miglity host, 
 
 In Edom's overwhelming waves were lost.
 
 god's evidence ok himself. 113 
 
 Oh ! who can gaze upon the staiTy skies, 
 Spanning tlie earth in their celestial guise, 
 And not in praises pour his spirit forth 
 To Him whose fiat gave their glories birth ? 
 Or who behold the ever- circling sun, 
 The lamp of Heav'n, the all-revealing one, 
 Tho source of heat, and light; whose fostering beams 
 Gladden Creation's bosom, till she seems ■ 
 Striving with life, as do the pregnant nest, 
 Cherish'd beneath the downy parent breast — 
 And not look up to Ileav'n witli thankful eyes, 
 Who set the glorious lamp within the skies ? 
 
 Behold him rising o'er the pathless sea, 
 
 Rob'd in the light of orient majesty ; 
 
 Spreading his glory o'er her glowing breast, 
 
 Fresh from the royal chambers of his rest: 
 
 Not all the splendour of Anointed Heads, • 
 
 Tlie Monarchs of the earth, such glory sheds, ■ 
 
 As when his beams the azure heavens unfold, 
 
 Curtain'd witli rosy clouds and fring'd with gold ; 
 
 Bas'd on the rolling ocean, dazzling bright 
 
 As bridal beauty to a lover's sight. 
 
 l2
 
 114 GOD^S EVIDENCE OF HIMSELF. 
 
 Behold him setting at the close of day, 
 How gorgeous in the west he rolls away ; 
 Whilst the fair queen of the refulgent night 
 Trims her soft lamp at his retiring light, 
 As if he were that omnipresent eye, 
 Which notes us when we deem there is none nigh. 
 
 Do not the hands of mortals fail to trace 
 The glorious front of Heav'n's eternal face ? '^^ 
 The tints of morning? or the glow of eve? 
 The beamy beauties the dark hours relieve ? 
 
 Who, then, but Deity, could e'er create 
 What man can scarce pourtray, or imitate? 
 Would he, the proud one ! yield to aimless chance 
 Glories for which he dares no claim advance ? 
 'Twas God, th'Omnipotent, and God alone, 
 Meet to conceive and near so bright a throne, 
 Builded the glorious planetary spliere. 
 And in siderial splendour lingers there. 
 Who \vhcn the withering fires and thunders cease^ 
 And earth and sky again repose in peace,
 
 god's evidence of himself. 115 
 
 Bends in the Heav'ns the glorious summer-bow, 
 That floods o'er delug'd earth no more may flow? 
 
 Is it your God ? or is it thee, O ! man, 
 Gives to tlio vision-arch its perfect span — 
 Its thousand hues — its pow'rs to go and come — 
 When, like the rolling of a funeral drum, 
 The distant murnuu's of the tempest die, 
 And its protecting glory arch the sky. 
 Bright to the gaze of wond'ring man, as 'twere 
 The eye of gracious Ileav'n reposing there? 
 Earth, sea, and sky regain their wonted calm; 
 Trees, plants, and flow'rs seem bath'd in fragrant balm ; 
 And, redolent in smiles, again rejoice 
 Whilst woodland songsters raise their tuneful voice, 
 At the bright presence of that glorious bow, 
 Heav'n's own Memento of Ilis Mercy-vow. '*' 
 Is here not cause for thee, O man ! to raise 
 Thy voice on high in humble pray'r and praise ? 
 If still you seek for more which Heav'n has done, 
 Why He alone should reign the Worship'd One, 
 Look on the insect world, and there behold '^1 
 The marvlous tribes earth's treasuries unfold.
 
 116 god's evidence of himself. 
 
 Each ill itself a living miracle, 
 
 Made for thee, man, a greater than them all. 
 
 Thou dost, perhaps, some rare device produce, 
 Of curious structure, and unrival'd use ; 
 But has it sense? or instinct? language? mind? 
 Is it not inert ? speechless ? helpless ? blind ? 
 Where is its growth progressive ? Where its poAv'r 
 To multiply its species ? Ev'n an hour 
 Shall some, from Ileav'n's own wondei-working hand 
 So multiply, that they shall thi'ong the land 
 In countless myriads. Mortal, is it thine, 
 Or is it God's omnipotence divine, 
 Works with such means, such never-failing ends, 
 As to effect His marv'Ious labour tends ? 
 Not only tends, but lo ! before our eyes, 
 With quick succession in perfection rise. 
 
 He needs no arts mechanic, years of thought, 
 To search for means by wliicli they're to be wrought : 
 To beautify the structure of His hand ; 
 He bids tliem in a moment throng the land,
 
 god's evidence op himself. 117 
 
 The air, the waters. Witness but the plague 
 The locusts spread o'er Egypt lor licr league : 
 He blew, and lo ! they came like clouds of sand, 
 And wasted all the promise of their land. 
 But turn we not to Records proudly fraught 
 With worlcs beyond the laws of nature wrought : 
 Earth, sea, and air arc all replete with life. 
 With tribes of creatures for our wonder rife ; 
 Invisible, perchance, but men the more 
 Have cause to ponder and the work adore ; 
 As with their artificial aids they trace 
 Jehovah in his wonder-hiding place. 
 Ev'n in a dew-drop there's a living charm, 
 A property develop'd, must disarm 
 The impious tongue of him who durst advance 
 The d, priori subtleties of chance, 
 Shadows, or vain conceptions of a mind 
 To Heav'n's higli attributes perversely blind. 
 
 But turn we ev'n to thee, O man ! by far 
 The master-piece of Heav'n's Artificer: 
 (jod was the potter that didst mould thy clay, 
 And call'd it ' Man,' whilst yet it lifeless lay ;
 
 118 god's evidence of himself. 
 
 When lo ! to perfect the miraculous whole, 
 
 He breath'd therein an everlasting soul — 
 
 Thou, the frail creature that would'st doubt his pow'r- 
 
 And plac'd thee in a paradisal how'i-. 
 
 With all things for thy sustenance and need, 
 
 Whom Lord of Earth His gracious will decreed. 
 
 Behold the brutes which perish, ev'n to be 
 The partial means of keeping life in thee, — 
 God gave them for thy use, when lo ! the good 
 And favour'd few were rescn'd from the flood : 
 They pass away for ever, as the fern. 
 Which feeds the oven, shall no more return ; 
 Whil'st thou, above all other creatures blest, 
 Heav'n hath reserv'd to an eternal rest. 
 
 After His Likeness form'd, by hands divine, 
 Less than perfection, man, could scarce be thine; 
 But 'twas a wond'rous pow'r, which thus the earth 
 Could mould, tho' ev'n of a celestial birth, 
 With veins and arteries, and tongue and heart. 
 And nerves so finely trac'd through ev'ry part ;
 
 god's EVinENCE OI' HIMSELF. Il9 
 
 And eyes, and ears, and arms, and hands, and feet, 
 And ev'ry member for its ofHce meet; 
 All cloth'd in comeliness, with perfect skill. 
 And all obedient to the creature's will ! 
 
 O ! Thou most perfect and mirac'lous thing, 
 Volition ! when of thy deep source I'd sing, 
 I feel, indeed, I am Init finite clay, 
 Seeking to sing what lleav'n alone can say; ) 
 
 Seeking to know what man shall never find — 
 The dwelling-place of the immortal mind ! ^ 
 Yet, whilst I think, and speak, and do, and will, 
 This spirit-mind the wond'ring mortal fdl ; — 
 Fill me with trembling ! yet with hope, that I 
 May rest my faith on Ilim who dwells on high : 
 Hope, did I say ? O creature ! wherefore so . 
 
 The healing balm of certainty forego? 
 Hope not — but O ! believe beyond the grave 
 There is a world, and He has pow'r to save. 
 To bring you to that realm of joy and bliss. 
 Whose hands thee made, whose word created this. 
 How marv'lously the vital currents flow ; 
 How marv'lously the fires of Nature glow ;
 
 120 god's evidence of himself. 
 
 As inarv'lously the Pow'i- did work which wrought 
 
 The reasoning faculties of speech and thought; 
 
 The source through which we act, ev'n as we will; 
 
 Surpassing all mechanic art or skill 
 
 Has e'er display'd ; for they alone produce 
 
 A motive pow'r of but a single use : 
 
 A watch will mark the time, but notliing more ; '*' 
 
 An engine acts with but a single pow'r. 
 
 Can these automata or laugh or weep ? 
 
 Eat or digest, or dream in weary sleep? 
 
 Or paint the vision thus pourtray'd or wrouglit? 
 
 Or, years gone by, rehearse the treasur'd thought 1 
 
 To all these questions we must answer ' No !' 
 And lie is wise who always answer d so: 
 For 'tis a fearful thing in the same breath 
 To place the works of Ileav'n by tliose of Earth ; 
 As if you would His majesty demean, 
 Without whose fiat, thou had'st never been.
 
 NOTES 
 
 TO 
 
 GOD'S EVIDENCE OF HIMSELF. 
 
 Note 1, Line 7, Page 111. 
 " From the broad forest to the humble gow'n." 
 
 It is impossible for the most ordinary observer not to be struck 
 with the unrivalled beauty manifested in the Floral Kingdom, as 
 indicative of a divine origin. Still more manifest is it in the abun- 
 dant variety, propagation, progressive growth, and durability of 
 the trees of the forest; affording, as they originally did, and still 
 do, in a degree, shelter, food, and clothing to man. It is true that 
 many, especially the " forest monarch," as the oak has been aptly 
 called, is an age in coming to maturity ; but, observes Evelyn, it 
 is generally supposed to live one thousand years. And in a poem, 
 by the Emperor of China, Chon Ching, of which a translation 
 was published at Paris in 1770, under the the title of FJoge dr 
 Monkden, a tree is spoken of which in that country lives more than 
 one hundred ages; and another which at the end of eighty is only 
 in its prime. The commentators upon this passage, observes the 
 Edinburgh Journal of Science, quote authority to prove that the 
 last-mentioned, ' the immortal tree,' is only in its prime at the 
 age of ten thousand years. 
 
 M
 
 122 NOTES TO 
 
 Note 2, Line 3, Page 112, 
 
 " Or to the swarming ant-hill, where there dwell 
 " A nation as within a citadel." 
 
 Naturalists universally ascribe to this portion of the insect 
 world, an instinct which could alone have resulted from a design 
 — the perfection of which none but an Infinite Being, endued 
 with the attributes of the Godhead, could have conceived. The 
 conveniency displayed in the construction of their subterranean 
 abodes ; the sagacity manifested in the collection and preservation 
 of their food ; and, as Huber asserts of one species, the ingenuity 
 they display in warring with others ; in their single combats ; in 
 their address in making captives and retaining them in servitude 
 as slaves ; and in the construction of their defences, combining in 
 them all the essential principles of warfare, is truly surprising. 
 
 Note 3, Line 8, Page 114. 
 
 " Do not the hands of mortals fail to trace 
 " The glorious front of Heav'n's eternal face ? 
 
 There is no single feature in which man more manifestly dis- 
 plays his deficiencies of mind as well as of body, as must be evident 
 to all persons conversant with the fine arts, great as the efforts of 
 such men as Claude and others have been, than in his attempts 
 to depicture the beauties of nature, more especially of the Heavens. 
 The splendour of a rising, a noontide, or a setting sun ; the moon 
 and stars in their refulgent beauty ; Nature under their magic in- 
 fluence ; have never yet been subject to such a master-hand, but 
 that we turn from the works of art with a higher admiration of the 
 unrivalled beauties of Nature ; a still higher admiration of their 
 ("reator; and a conviction that man was, indeed, made " a little 
 lower than the angels."
 
 god's evidence of himself. 123 
 
 Note 4, Line 16, Page 115. 
 ■ " that glorious bow. 
 
 " Heav'n's own memento of His mercy-vow." 
 
 Tins phenomenon, the Manifest Covenant between Noah and 
 his Creator, that the wrorld should no more be subject to a dehige, 
 which Bailey not inaptly defines " a meteor of divers colours," 
 has been questioned by some sceptical commentators on the 
 Holy Scriptures, as to its miraculous origin, because it is now, 
 in the advanced state of science, truly ascertained to be the 
 effect of natural causes. But, I would ask, are not the seasons 
 the effect of natural causes also ? Yet few or none will deny the 
 causes thereof to have been of a miraculous origin. The same ar- 
 gument holds good as to the origin of day and night, heat and cold, 
 the tides, the winds, &c. ; none of which could have existed, any 
 more than the rainbow, — " Heav'n's own memento of His mercy- 
 vow," — but for the miraculous creation of the causes by which 
 these several effects are now produced ; and that with such 
 undeviating regularity, be it observed, that he who should dare 
 to question the recurrences of them at their accustomed periodic 
 seasons, as heretofore, would be justly suspected of labouring 
 under the fearful malady of insanity ; or some not less pitiable 
 state of intellectual weakness or delusion ! 
 
 Note 5, Line 21, Page 115. 
 
 " Look on the insect world," 
 
 Of the almost numberless variety of insects that continually 
 present themselves to the most indifferent observer of Nature, it 
 is impossible but some must have attracted his notice, either from 
 the beautiful variety of colours that adorn them, the texture of
 
 124 
 
 NOTES TO 
 
 their several parts, or the instinct which directs their several 
 movements in search of food or for safety. But what, indeed, 
 would be his admiration were he fully acquainted with their several 
 natures, their wonderful propagation of their species, or the mil- 
 lions that exist, of which he has never dreamt. Sturm calculates 
 that there are thousands of insects in a cmmb of bread. Malegieu 
 says that he has seen living animalculae twenty-seven millions of 
 times smaller than mites ; and by means of the recent improve- 
 ments in microscopes, it has been ascertained that there are mil- 
 lions of living insects in a single drop of water. Baker observes 
 of the hair-like insects, which he discovered in a ditch flowing 
 into the river at Norwich, in Norfolk, " they are so small that 
 millions of millions of them might be contained in a quarter of an 
 inch square." Yet, he adds, they were so slender, that they were 
 frequently one hundred and fifty times as long as they were broad. 
 M. Ilobineau Desroiddy is said lately to have stated to the 
 Academy of Sciences at Paris, that on opening a viper, one of the 
 species usually termed Red Snakes, he found more than three 
 thousand little ones, in different states. One extraordinary 
 feature in insects is their muscular strength in comparison with 
 their size : the Cockchafer's being six times greater than that of 
 the Horse. Linna;us says, that if an elephant were as strong 
 in proportion as a Stag-beetle, it would be able to tear up rocks 
 and level mountains. But we may understand the proximate 
 cause of the strength of insects, when we consider the prodigious 
 number of their muscles, the fleshy belts or ribands, by means of 
 which are performed all animal motions. Those of tlie human 
 body are calculated at five hundred and twenty-nine; whilst those 
 of the Caterpillar of the Goat-moth are estimated at seven times the 
 number : that is, in the head two hundred and twenty-eight ; in 
 the body, one thousand six hundred and forty-seven ; and round 
 the intestines, two thousand one hundred and eighty-six ; which, 
 after deducting twenty, common to the head and gullet, leaves 
 a total of four thousand and sixty-one. Shall this wonderful
 
 god's evidence op HtMSELF. 125 
 
 organization of matter be attributed to chance? Or is there not, 
 I would ask, an Infinite Omnipotent, Omniscient, Omnipresent 
 Being, to whom must be attributed tlie glory of creating what the 
 creature so imperfectly comprehends ? 
 
 Note 6, Line 7, Page 120. 
 " A watch will mark the time, but nothing more." 
 
 The reader is here referred to the admirable opening of Paley's 
 Natural Theology, a work to which the author fearlessly appeals 
 for the establishment of the truth of many of his positions; though 
 he disclaims having founded any portion of his text thereon. 
 
 M2
 
 12C 
 A FOOL'S SPEECH. 
 
 Should any, hastening to an impious goal, 
 
 Peril their clearest thing, th' Immortal Sonl, 
 
 And cry — ' There is no God!' — tell them they're mad. 
 
 And do but echo what the Fool hath said. 
 
 THE LILY OF THE VALLEY, 
 
 There is a flow'r, 
 Which gems the bow'r, 
 
 The sweetest that is seen ; 
 The Lily hight, 
 With blossoms white, 
 
 And leaves of purest green. 
 
 Like modest maid. 
 It seems afraid 
 
 To mingle with the crowd ; 
 And dwells retir'd — 
 V'et is admired, 
 
 And has its charms allow'd.
 
 127 
 
 MAN BREAKING SILENCE. 
 
 Prometheus, on a time, the ancients say, 
 Made him a mortal man of earth or clay ; 
 But finish'd, lo ! the soulless creature lay 
 Silent and motionless and still was clay ; 
 Till climbing Heav'n, he sought celestial aid 
 To animate the creature he had made. 
 
 As easy might the Atheist, I should say, 
 Pursuing him the self-same working way. 
 Mould him a man — but finish'd, lo ! 'twould lay 
 E'en like Promethean labours — lifeless clay : 
 Nor would the creature dare to climb on high ' 
 To steal the spark celestial from the sky, 
 Who not alone the power of Heav'n defies, 
 But e'en the existence of his God denies. 
 
 When Heaven tried His hand at the same trade. 
 And call'd the creature man which He had made, —
 
 128 
 
 He gave him life and power to will and speak — 
 E'en now, methinks, I hear him silence break — 
 See him stand list'ning to the heav'n-born sound, 
 As Eden's holy bowers it echoes round — 
 See all the creatures, as his voice goes forth, 
 Crowding them round the appointed Lord of Earth, 
 And as he calls them by their names they seem 
 In doubtful marvel, as it were a dream. 
 
 LINES 
 ON THE POET COWPER. 
 
 CowpER, thy name arouses in my mind 
 All that's benevolent and good and kind : 
 Faith, Hope, and Charity, within thy breast, 
 Near a warm heart in fellowship were placed ; 
 Did ev'ry man but love his kind like thee — 
 What harmony on earth would mortals see,
 
 129 
 
 W OMAN 
 
 " En quelle partie du ciel, dans quel ordre de beauts etait le module 
 que la nature imita en formant tant d'attraitsf" 
 
 La Danse. 
 
 To live and not be lov'd — I would not be 
 The proudest Monarch of this mighty earth : 
 The richest empire would be nothing worth 
 
 If Love and Friendship were estranged from me : 
 
 Who would, if sickness or bereavement e'er 
 Stretch 'd me upon my couch and search'd my brow, 
 Watch o'er me tenderly as I lay low, 
 
 And bathe my burning temples with a tear ? 
 
 As once she poured on Christ the holy oil 
 
 And wiped His feet with her all-beauteous hair, 
 
 So would I have her bless my ev'ry toil. 
 In fond humility, unmixed with fear. 
 
 Thou that first gave the fond affections birth. 
 
 Woman ! the kindest, loveliest thing on earth.
 
 130 
 
 CHARITY. 
 
 ' Her touch unlocks the day-spring from above, 
 ' And visits man with beams of light and love." 
 
 Rogers. 
 
 Gentle as if descended from the skies, 
 And lovely as an angel-form must be, 
 
 A spirit, as metlionght, before mine eyes, 
 Amidst the sons of man stole silently. 
 
 I vvatch'd her progress — as she seem'd to shun 
 The eyes of all who would have known the cause, 
 Why she was blest with murmurs of applause, 
 
 When issuing from the homes of wretchedness ? 
 
 She fed the hungry ; clothed nakedness ; 
 
 AVatched with the mourner ; and upbraided none ; 
 
 But as the Saviour of the world before 
 
 Had done, she bade them ' go and sin no more !' 
 'Twas then I knew the angel-form to be 
 The heav'n ^orn spirit, Hallow'd Charity.
 
 131 
 THE UNIVERSAL CONSENT. 
 
 " Toutrit." 
 
 Where shall I seek a witness of the Lord — 
 Is it alone in His Revealed Word? — 
 Methinks I hear a million tongues reply, 
 From the broad earth and the o'er-arching sky ; 
 From mountain heights and wildernesses drear; 
 From ocean-depths and ice-bound regions where 
 The sons of men their snow-built caverns rear ; — 
 ' Here, here, here, here — you'll find us everywhere !' 
 
 THE PROGRESS OF TIME. 
 
 " Tempus fugit." 
 
 HOR. 
 
 Moments a minute form, and hours the day ; 
 Days rise to weeks, and weeks to months give way ; 
 Mouths yield to years ; — thus Time docs fleetly fly : 
 We're born, — we live, — and in a moment die.
 
 132 
 THE DAWN OF DAY 
 
 Je saluais L'Aurore naissante." 
 
 Sublimely beauteous is the Dawn of Day, 
 
 When neither Sun, nor Moon, nor Star prevails ; 
 When bright Aurora, clad in chaste array, 
 
 With orient smile empearled nature hails : 
 At such a moment let the mind essay, 
 
 As 'twere the primal morn, at even's close,* 
 To think awhile upon that mighty day. 
 
 When high the glorious arch of Heav'n arose : 
 When too, magnificent, the worldly fame 
 
 Of trackless earth and ocean rose to view ; 
 
 And lifeless clay divine efflatus drew ; 
 Stupendous works of God, from Chaos came : 
 
 My soul, uplifted, sees with adoration 
 
 The Dawn of Day — as 'twere a World's Creation. 
 
 * "And the evening and the morning were the first day " (Gen. i. 5). 
 " By the evening is here denoted," says Dr. Wells, " one whole 
 course of darkness ; and by the morning the next following whole 
 course of light. The evening is mentioned before the morning, 
 probably because darkness was before light, according to the 
 history of the creation." " Hence," adds Dr. Kidder, "the natu- 
 ral day of the Jews begun in the evening (Levit. xxiii. 32). The 
 Hebrews, observes Browne, in his Theological Dictionary, began 
 their sacred, if not their civil day, from the evening, as did the 
 ancient Athenians. The Austrians, Bohemians, Marcomans, 
 Silesians, Modern Italians, and Chinese, still do the same.
 
 138 
 
 THE POETS' APOTHEOSIS. 
 
 O de glialtri poeti honore e lume." 
 
 Dante. 
 
 As amidst Granta's classic fanes I rov'd 
 
 To see the setting sun's last beams awhile 
 
 Blazon the summits of each sacred pile, 
 And smile upon the scenes my fancy lov'd, — 
 Great Homer's shade methought I did behold, 
 
 In glorious majesty and splendour bright, 
 Enthron'd amidst a cloud of radiant gold, 
 
 Too heavenly for gaze of mortal sight. 
 Forth Virgil stood to kneel and to adore ; 
 
 Then Milton, Drydcn, Pope, and Cowper, came 
 And prostrate fell the honour'd sage before, 
 
 Whilst round their brows he bound the wi-eath of fame- 
 He set the worthies on his left and right, 
 And all were borne to an immortal height.
 
 134 
 
 THE ATHEIST ABASHED. 
 
 ' He from heaven's height 
 
 " All these our motions vain, sees and derides : 
 
 " Not more almighty to resist our might, 
 
 "Than wise to frustrate all our plots and wiles." 
 
 MllTON. 
 
 An Atheist ! which means a captious man, 
 
 Conceited, self-sufficient, laid a plan 
 
 To puzzle God's officiating Priest, 
 
 Or hold him up to ridicule at least. 
 
 The Infidel, close follow'd by some others, 
 
 In vanity and disbelief his brothers, 
 
 Call'd on the man of God, and thus began 
 
 To question him in his religious ken : — 
 
 ' Now, Mr. Minister, by your paroles, 
 
 ' Do you profess and hope to save men's souls?' 
 
 The pious man replied to him, ' Sir, yes, 
 
 ' With God's assistance, that's what I profess.' 
 
 'Did you e'er see a soul?' the scoffer cried j 
 
 ' I never did,' the man of God replied :
 
 135 
 
 * Hear, taste, or smell a soul ? ' To all these, lo ! 
 The man of God with modesty said, ' No !' 
 
 * That you e'er felt a soul, do you profess ? ' 
 
 The preacher answer 'd, ' Thanks to God, Sir, yes :' 
 ' Well,' said the heathen Doctor, when he'd done, 
 
 * There are four senses. Sir, against your one 
 
 ' There is a soul ! — ' ' But hold. Sir,' said the priest, 
 ' I've answer 'd you, now answer me at least : 
 'To cure men's bodies, don't you, Sir, profess?' 
 The heathen Doctor answer'd him, ' Sir, yes:' 
 ' Did you e'er see a pain ?' He answer'd, ' No !' 
 
 * Hear, taste, or smell a pain ? ' To all these, lo ! 
 The heathen Doctor answer'd him, ' Sir, no.' 
 
 ' That you e'er felt a pain, do you confess ? ' 
 The Infidel replied to him, ' Sir, yes.' 
 ' Well,' said the man of God, when he had done, 
 ' There are four senses, Sir, against your one 
 
 * There is a pain ! — yet you know there's a pain ! 
 ' And I know there's a soul ! '—But not again 
 The Scoffer spoke : by his own weapon lash'd. 
 The heathen Doctor sneak'd away abash'd.
 
 136 
 LAMENT O'ER HIS BROTHER'S GRAVE. 
 
 (From the Latin of Catullds.) 
 
 ' Through many nations, and o'er many a wave, 
 ' I come, I come, my Brother, to thy grave ; 
 ' That thy loved ashes may receive from me 
 ' Those hallow'd rites our fathers would decree : 
 
 * But oh ! in vain I greet thy silent shade, 
 
 ' Since death has snatch'd, alas ! thyself from thee, 
 * Hid in the tomb, thy cM remains, from me, 
 
 * And number 'd thee for ever with the dead. 
 ' Accept, my Brother, these fraternal tears, 
 
 ' With honours such as graced our parents' biers ; 
 ' Called far away from where thine ashes dwell^ 
 *For ever, O, my Brother! fare thee well. 
 
 TO » • * * 
 
 There's not a star in all the glorious sky 
 More beautiful than Hebe's youthful eye — 
 'Tis pity that such loveliness should die.
 
 137 
 
 ELEGIAC STANAZS: 
 
 Addressed to Lady IIeathcote on the death of her beloved .Son, 
 Lieutenant Thomas Heathcote, at Bombay. 
 
 " My boy ! my boy ! my blessed boy !" 
 
 SkkT( HES OF IlUSH ClIARACTKR. 
 
 9 
 
 I. 
 
 Child of my bosom ! and art thou for ever 
 
 Torn from the fond anns of her who adored tliee? 
 Child of my bosom ! shall I again never 
 
 Behold thee in life, nor in death e'en weep o'er thee 
 Must thy fond mother eternally sever 
 
 The hope that she's cherish'd for thee from her breast? 
 Oh, no, my lov'd boy ! we shall meet where, for ever, 
 
 All sorrow shall cease and the weary find rest. 
 
 II. 
 
 Why was I absent when death hung upon thee ! 
 
 No hand but thy Mother's thine eyes should have closed — 
 The last look of thine would have then been upon me, 
 
 Her in whose bosom thy head had reposed.
 
 138 
 
 Must thy fond mother eternally sever 
 
 The hope that she's cherish 'd for thee from her breast? 
 Oil, no, my lov'd boy ! we shall meet where, for ever, 
 
 All sorrow shall cease and the weary find rest. 
 
 III. 
 
 Who'll weep o'er thee, lov'd one, as I would have wept? 
 
 Who'll cherish the turf that blooms o'er thy lone grave? 
 Where, where shall they tell me thine ashes have slept ? 
 
 In a far distant land that is trod by the slave ! 
 Must thy fond mother eternally sever 
 
 The hope that she's cherish'd for thee from her breast? 
 Oh, no, my lov'd boy ! we shall meet where, for ever, 
 
 All sorrow shall cease and the weary find rest. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Oft shall I recall thy lov'd form to mine eyes — 
 
 In mem'ry oft dwell on thy fondly lov'd name — 
 Oft tliink I behold thee flit thro' the blue sky — 
 
 Oft fold my lov'd boy to my breast in a dream. 
 Must thy fond mother eternally sever 
 
 The hope that she's cherish'd for thee from her breast ? 
 Oh, no, my lov'd boy ! we shall meet where, for ever, 
 
 All sorrow sliall cease and the weary find rest.
 
 139 
 THE VALUE OF PATIENCE. 
 
 " With time and patiente the leaf of the mulberry tree becomes satin." 
 
 URIKKTAL PllOVERB. 
 
 Many will thwart their beat imagin'd schemes 
 With heedless haste and undigested dreams, 
 And mar the purpose of their wise intent, 
 Unsway'd by patience and self-government. 
 As if, preferring Fate to Providence — 
 A want of Hope and Faith were no offence. 
 Read thine own History, Children of the Earth, 
 And learn thy wisdom is of little worth : 
 For thus the Mighty Ones have been cast down 
 To bear contumely and the proud man's frown, 
 Who else had worn a crown I 
 
 PRENEZ GARDE. 
 
 Trust not o'er much in any thing save Heav'n- 
 For all besides to fickleness are given.
 
 140 
 THE WELCOME. 
 
 " Ces tendres accens sont-ils I'expression de ta doleur t" 
 
 The tired disbanded Soldier reach'd the hill 
 Which oft in playful childhood had seduced 
 His truant steps to wander from the course. 
 His lov'd, his native village met his view, 
 As beautiful in wild simplicity, 
 As when the rattling drum and whistling fife 
 Aroused the ardour of her peaceful swains. 
 And wily sergeant told the tempting tale, 
 Of martial honours, and of countless gains. 
 Of maidens won by warrior's gaudery, 
 And lured him from his native fields afar. 
 O ! what remembrance rose within his mind 
 When he beheld, amidst the lovely scene, 
 The village gambol-green ; the low thatched cot, 
 Where first the vital air of heav'n he drev/, 
 And danced amid sweet scenes of mirthful joy. 
 Of rustic-revel, merry-making games, 
 When age with youth is free, at ev'ry tide,
 
 141 
 
 To drown their years in frolic mimicry. 
 Encircled now by fields of waving corn, 
 By fruitful orchards, and by flowery meads, 
 By lowing kine and herds at sluggard ease, 
 Browsing upon the succulent sweet herbs ; 
 He thought they never look'd so sweet before ; — 
 And as he bless'd the threshold of his home. 
 Nature her tribute would not be denied : — 
 Then roll'd the manly drop within his eye ; 
 Then beat his heart with palpitating pulse- 
 Had he a Sire ? a tender Mother still ? 
 His faithful dog, was Rover still alive ? 
 Just then a rustling from a neighbouring copse 
 Broke on his ear ; 'twas Rover. — He again 
 The well-remember'd features had descried. — 
 The faithful creature lick'd the wanderer's hand, 
 And whined and leaped for joy at his return : 
 This quite unmann'd the Soldier, — he'd have spoke,— 
 But utterance was denied, twas past a dream ; 
 And lo ! his Sire advanced, with hoary brow 
 And tottering step, leaning upon a staff; 
 For wayward Time had run through fourscore years, 
 And left him what he found him at the first, —
 
 142 
 
 A child ! — " My son !" the good old man exclaimed ; 
 He could no more, but sunk into his arms 
 And welcom'd him upon his throbbing breast. 
 A scanty crape his russet hat entwin'd, — 
 This token told the rest, — he wept the cause. 
 
 THE SABBATH. 
 
 " Think what a Sabbath there shall be, 
 " The Sabbath of Eternity !" 
 
 Riiv. T. Grimfield. 
 
 Hail ! silent, solemn, sacred Day of Rest, — 
 Jehovah's record of His own repose. 
 When round, in beauteous harmony, arose 
 
 The works His word created and then blest ! 
 
 Thou art a monitor to heedless man 
 
 Should warm his bosom with a hallowed flame. 
 In songs divine to celebrate His name, 
 
 His mercy and His holiness to scan.
 
 143 
 
 The very beasts beseem tlieir thanks to feign ; 
 
 The birds in sweeter carols hymn their lays ; 
 
 The troubled ocean, as in choral praise, 
 Rolls gentlier as 'twould reverence Thy reign ! • 
 Bow down, O man ! in humble attitude, 
 And be not last to burn with gratitude. 
 
 * This idea may alone exist in the imagination of the author, 
 but when standing on the brink of " the world of mighty waters," 
 on a Sabbath morning, there has ever seemed to him, that 
 glorious spirit of peace and holiness abroad, " stilling the waves," 
 which at the creation " moved upon the face of the waters." Nor 
 to a contemplative mind, imbued with a fearful sense of the power 
 and mercy and holiness of the Creator, is this thought, this holy 
 impression, confined to " the heap of great waters .-"—trees, plants, 
 and flowers ; the firmament ; the earth and air ; the deep forest and 
 the lisping groves; the green pastures and the waving corn fields ; 
 the flocks that browse in the vallies ; the birds of the air; and, in 
 the language of holiness, those that make their nest on the house- 
 tops ; from the worm to the elephant ; from the wren to the 
 pelican of the wilderness ; from things animate to things inanimate ; 
 this " spirit of the beauty of holiness" will not only be perceived, 
 but even be felt to be abroad on that day of rest appointed for 
 universal prayer, praises, and thanksgiving to Almighty God.
 
 144 
 THE LIFE OF MAN. 
 
 " Nor more nor less, but just as much as tends 
 "' To frame the world and serve all nature's ends." 
 
 Sir R. Blackmore. 
 
 The life of man 
 Is but a span, 
 
 A journey or a flight; 
 At morn begun, 
 At noon half run," 
 
 And ended at midnight. 
 
 A helpless boy- 
 Pleased with a toy ; 
 
 A man of hopes and fears ; 
 When tottering age, 
 With sickness rage, 
 
 He quits this vale of tears. 
 
 If so short, then, 
 The life of man, 
 
 O let him live with grace, 
 That dying, he 
 Eternally 
 
 May see his Maker's face.
 
 145 
 
 THE GLORY OF THE STARS. 
 
 " Look up and behold the eternal fields of light that lie round about 
 the throne of God. Had the stars never appeared in the Heavens, 
 to man there would have been no Heavens ; and he would have laid 
 himself down to his last sleep, in a spirit of anguish, as upon a 
 gloomy earth vaulted over by a material arth — solid and im- 
 pervious." 
 
 John Paui. Richter. 
 
 O IE, the glittering witnesses of God, 
 
 Gems in the vault of that celestial fane 
 Which only saints' and angels' feet have trod, 
 
 How glorious still ye ray — though time has lain 
 Thousand on thousand years for ever by, 
 
 Since thou wcrt made by Heav'n's Almighty hand, 
 And blossom 'd forth in that eternal sky 
 Beneath His throne, sublime in mystery. 
 
 Ye are the harbingers of the far land 
 Where Christ, the Saviour of the world, abides 
 
 In glorious majestj' ; at His right hand 
 Who through the maze of life creation guides ; 
 And there, celestial Argus of the skies, 
 Ye keep the gates of Heav'n with wakeful eyes.
 
 146 
 
 A MATIN SONG. 
 
 " The lucid orbs, the earth, the air, the main, 
 " With ev'ry different being they contain, 
 " Are one prodigious, aggregated God." 
 
 Blackmore's CREATIO!* , 
 
 Awake, my soul — the Lord has oped the day ; 
 
 Unveil'd, Creation's spread before mine eyes ; 
 The teeming earth receives the quick'ning ray ; 
 
 The waters sparkle with a thousand dyes : 
 Painted by Nature's hand, awake and see 
 
 The flowery world unbosom and rebloom ; 
 Preparing revels for the thrifty bee. 
 
 Breathing o'er all around a rich perfume : 
 The verdure smiles, the plants are bright with dew ; 
 
 From feather'd choirs unnumber'd hymns arise ; 
 The forest proudly stretch beyond the view ; 
 
 The rocks and giant mountains climb the skies ; 
 And Ocean, with a splendour wond'rous bright. 
 Rolls to their base with a resistless might.
 
 147 
 THE MARTYRS. 
 
 " To die for truth — is not to die for one's country, but to die for tiie 
 world. Truth, like the Venus dci Medici, will pass down in thirty 
 fragments to posterity : but posterity will collect and recompose 
 thera into a goddess. — Then also thy temple, oh, eternal Truth ! that 
 now stands half below tlie earth — made hollow by the sepulchres of 
 its witnesses, will raise itself in the total majesty of its proportions ; 
 and will stand in monumental granite ; and every pillar on which it 
 rests, will be fixed in the grave of a martyr." 
 
 John Paul RiciiTEK. 
 
 Souls of the pious and unshrinking few 
 Who seal'd their faitli amidst consuming flames, 
 Let poijsy around your hallow'd names 
 
 Breathe thoughts of sorrow pure as earthly dew. 
 
 Cranmer, and Latimer, and Ridley, thine, 
 Witli lo ! the mem'ry of a thousand more. 
 
 Thus in eternal song she would enshrine, 
 
 With plaudits such as none have heard before : 
 
 Thou that wert tried within the fiery flame. 
 E'en as the precious metals are assay'd ; 
 
 And thence came forth more perfect still to fame. 
 As did your Saviour, to the Cross betray 'd. 
 
 Thine was the glory, like the Christ, to die 
 
 Tlie hallow'd Victims of Apostacy !
 
 148 
 
 THE BENEFICENCE OF GOD. 
 
 " La somma sapientia, el primo amore." 
 
 Dantb. 
 
 Great God, all-powerful, all-wise first cause ; 
 
 Who did the universal whole create ; 
 Author and Teacher of those Perfect Laws 
 
 Would win frail man to an Immortal State : 
 AVho gave, upon the Cross to die the death, 
 
 That man, ungrateful man, might still be blest. 
 
 And be partaker of Thy heav'nly rest, 
 Thine only Son, revil'd in His last breath. 
 So bounteous, so stupendous are Thy ways ; 
 
 Mysterious, merciful beyond compeer; 
 Jehovah, God the Lord, Ancient of Days, 
 
 Let me approach Thee, with a holy fear, 
 To scan the works of one so great, so good — ■ 
 Who bids the thunder roll, and moves upon the flootl.
 
 149 
 
 NIGHT. 
 
 " La nuit repande ses crCpes funObrea sur toute la nature." 
 
 Night falls upon the earth with solemn gloom, 
 And nature seems, with a religious awe. 
 Nearer and nearer to the skies to draw. 
 
 In spirit such as dwell around the tomb. 
 
 Anon the stars pierce through the deep blue sky, 
 The moon rolls forth in glory broad and bright, 
 
 The fleecy clouds in soft effulgence lie 
 Scatter'd like magic far beyond the sight. 
 
 O ! that such loveliness should look upon 
 
 The works of earth's too sordid children — where, 
 
 Perchance a deed of deepest dye is done, 
 Heedless of supplicating cry or tear — 
 
 An Abel murther'd by another Cain, — 
 
 And the dread mark is set on man again.
 
 150 
 
 STANZAS TO * * * * 
 
 " Sans amis, comrae sans famille, 
 " Ici has vivre en etranger " 
 
 Le Portrait. 
 
 Oh ! what is life, without a friend 
 To cheer our path of sorrow ? 
 
 A lingVing journey without end, 
 Too long if closed to-morrow. 
 
 And yet there are hut few, 1 fear, 
 Can say they ever knew one ; 
 
 My heart has planted many there, 
 And now, I trust, a true one. 
 
 For oft I fain would have heliev'd, 
 But, heartless beyond measure, 
 
 They would not let me be deceiv'd, 
 
 Lest ignorance should be pleasure.
 
 151 
 
 Is there no trutli in gratitude ? 
 
 Is honour but a name, then? 
 Alas ! I fear beatitude 
 
 Is but an eartlily dream, tlien. 
 
 Go, Man — I leave thee to thy ways — 
 Thou scarce can'st bend to be 
 
 The friend of Him of Ancient Days, 
 Who died for love of thee. 
 
 But Woman — I would have thee true 
 
 As magnet to the north ; 
 That like a dove with olive bough 
 
 Thy spirit may go forth. 
 
 That like an angel from the skies, 
 On peaceful errand bound, 
 
 Wherever man in sorrow lies, 
 Tliy presence may be found. 
 
 Nor grief too heavy to be borne, 
 Nor sorrow shall there be, 
 
 O'er which the sons of men shall mourn- 
 If they are sooth'd by thee.
 
 152 
 THE DANGER OF DELAY, 
 
 " Non dices hodie >" 
 
 HOR. 
 
 The moments swiftly pass away, 
 Which proves 'tis dangerous to delay : 
 That which you can to-day fulfil, 
 You never should delay until 
 To-morrow comes ! For then you'll say,- 
 ' Nay, let it be some other day.' 
 
 WOULD'ST THOU BE HOLY. 
 
 Would'st thou be holy — learn thy faults to scan ; 
 Be pure of heart towards Heav'n and towards man ; 
 Fear God, with faith in Christ, His only son ; 
 And let your works be such as He'd have done : 
 Be eyes unto the blind ; feet to the lame ; 
 And minister, in His eternal name, 
 To those who hunger houseless by the way ; 
 To those who sorrowing may in prison lay ; 
 Dry up the oi-phan's tears with sure relief; 
 And cherish those oppress'd with sick'ning grief; 
 Then man shall count thee holy as a Howard, 
 And Heav'n approve it as a just award.
 
 153 
 
 TO THE SHADE OF COLUMBUS. 
 
 A cheap honour was decreed to Columbus by Ferdinand after his 
 death. He ordered a monument to be erected to his memory witli 
 this inscription : — 
 
 ' For Castilla y por Leon 
 ' Nuevo Mundo Hallo Colon:' 
 For Castile and Leon Columhus founded a new world. A record of 
 the great debt of gratitude due to the discoverer, which the monarch 
 had so faithlessly neglected to discharge." 
 
 Irving's Life and Voyages of Columbus, iv. 411 
 
 Immortal Spirit of that searching mind 
 And world-perceiving man, Columbus, hear. 
 Whilst poesy atone thy slighted bier, 
 
 And round thy name her votive chaplets bind. 
 
 Thus o'er thy wrongs she weeps, aspiring brave, 
 Who sought a second coronet to bind 
 The brows of one distrustful and unkind, 
 
 Who almost grudg'd the wanderer a grave ! 
 
 If fortitude e'er dwelt in luiman heart 
 Above tlie lot of mortals to possess, 
 
 Thine was the mind to act the daring part, 
 And rise above all wrong. — He would no less 
 
 Forget to pay to God his righteous due, 
 
 Who would withhold immortal fame from you.
 
 154 
 
 CONTEMPLATION 
 OF THE POWER OF GOD. 
 
 " Al fin, quando gia tutte intorno chete 
 " Ne la piu alta notte eran le cose.' 
 
 Tasso. 
 
 In the still calm hour of silent night, 
 When the hallow'd spirit of Meditation 
 Comes o'er the soul as 'twere Inspiration, 
 
 The Heav'ns o'er man will assert their right, 
 
 And be seen in the glory of what they are, — 
 The Throne of the Great Eternal One, 
 
 Who sits in the midst of His starry sphere. 
 With His eye on all, — but is seen by none. 
 
 He commands, and the mountain torrents flow ; 
 And the hurricane obeys His call ; 
 
 And the floods rush forth, — and the whirlwinds blow, 
 In ruin and death o'crwhelming all, — 
 And the mightie-st works of the mightiest men. 
 Tell me, ye proud ones, what are they then?
 
 isr) 
 
 ECHO. 
 
 AN ODE. 
 
 " Audis minus et minus jam." 
 
 HOR. 
 
 Heard ye the soft, entrancing sound, 
 From hill to dale disporting round^? 
 'Tis not melodious Philomel, — 
 'Tis not the pealing vesper bell, — 
 'Tis Echo sweet, 
 A fairy fleet ; 
 Dancing here, 
 Dancing there. 
 Like a fairy, everywhere.
 
 156 
 
 II. 
 
 Now o'er the waters gliding soft ; 
 Now whistling in the air aloft ; 
 Hark ! now it clacks by yonder mill ; 
 And now the vale its thunders fill ; 
 Now in a grove 
 'Tis whisp'ring love; 
 Dancing here, 
 Dancing there, 
 Like a fairy, everywhere. 
 
 III. 
 
 It lingers in the dell to uiock 
 The cuckoo's song, the village clock ; 
 Or by the moonlit magic hour, 
 It mimics, from a sylvan bow'r 
 Where owlets flit, 
 'Too- whit, too-whit!' 
 Dancing here, 
 Dancing there. 
 Like a fairy, everywhere.
 
 157 
 
 IV. 
 
 In hollow oaks, in caverns deep ; 
 Along the brook, or down the steep ; 
 Where gossip-gnomes in secret dwell ; 
 Or in the chink, or flow'r, or shell — 
 There Echo lies 
 In airy guise ; 
 Dancing here, 
 Dancing there, 
 Like a fairy, everywhere 
 
 V. 
 
 Where Beauty sits her list'ning by, 
 With breath suppress'd and raptur'd eye. 
 Whilst Zephyrs o'er ^olian strings 
 Are sweeping with their air-spm wings — 
 There Echo plays 
 Its fairy lays ; 
 Dancing here, 
 Dancing there. 
 Like a fairy, everywhere, 
 p
 
 158 
 
 VI. 
 
 In deserts, with no mortals nigh ; 
 Where vultures roost and eagle's fly ; 
 Where tigers lurk and lions prowl, 
 And savage wolves with hunger howl. 
 Her mimic voice 
 The wUds rejoice ; 
 Dancing here, 
 Dancing there, 
 Like a fairy, everywhere. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Where the rude billows lash the shore, 
 Or waters fall with deaf 'ning roar ; 
 Or where the fisher's bark is seen. 
 On Albion's gallant Ocean- queen, 
 Her voice is heard. 
 And often fear'd ; 
 Dancing here, 
 Dancing there, 
 Like a fairy, everywhere.
 
 159 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Tis in the breeze, the blast, the show'rs ; 
 Amid the rocks, the groves, the bow'rs ; 
 'Tis o'er the heath, the lake, the hill, 
 Echo echo's answering still — 
 Sighing, dying, 
 Bounding, flying; 
 Dancing here, 
 Dancing there, 
 Like a fairy, everywhere. [ 
 
 REMORSE. 
 
 The man of pleasure, in his vain career, 
 Disdains to think of Heav'n, with hope or fear, 
 Till Death prepares to terminate his course. 
 And then he thinks — with terrible remorse.
 
 160 
 TIME NOT ETERNx\L. 
 
 Time hath nor wing nor foot, yet moves with pace 
 Shall distance all things in life's rapid race, 
 Save only one— the Eternal and Suhlime, 
 And He shall, ever foremost, distance Time. 
 
 A FRAGMENT. 
 
 Written on beholding Roubiliac's Statue of The Illustrious Newton, 
 in the Ante-chapel of Trinity College, Cambridge. 
 
 I STAND before thee, O ! thou lifeless stone. 
 As though thou wert some mighty living one, 
 Searching with prescient eye my mind's recess. 
 And laying open all its littleness : 
 Thou, in whose soul Omnipotence did place 
 The pow'r Creation's secret ways to trace ; 
 The sun and moon and stars' unerring course — , 
 Of light and darkness the eternal source ; 
 Each vital principle aright to scan, 
 And rectify the creeds of erring man.
 
 161 
 
 TRUTH EXISTENT WITH ETERNITY. 
 
 Truth, thou untainted one, O ! tell me where 
 Thy shiiiie is raised, that I may worship there? 
 Stands it north, east, west, south; — above, below; — 
 In the throng'd city, or where hermits bow? 
 Can'st tell me, man ! What, answer me not one ? 
 Is it, alas ! then found in Heav'n alone ? 
 Proclaim it through the Universe, forsooth, 
 Jehovah, God of Love, is God of Truth ; 
 That Truth, existent with eternity, 
 Was cherished before man began to be. 
 And is an attribute of Deity. 
 
 MAN'S LITTLENESS. 
 
 When Man presumes witli Heaven to raise his voice. 
 The finite creature but himself destroys ; 
 Even as a pebble dash'd against a rock 
 Rebounds in scatter'd fragments with the shock. 
 
 r2
 
 1(52 
 
 THE RAISING OF THE DEAD. 
 
 The world was now a universal tomb^ 
 And man, in death-repose, prepar'd for doom ; 
 And silence, deep and awful, o'er the earth. 
 Reigning as sound had never there gone forth; 
 Whilst one unvarying, but mysterious light, 
 Veiling the lamps of Heaven by day and night, 
 Gleam'd like a meteor round the universe, 
 As if it lay beneath some deadly curse. 
 The winds, so restless once, had ceas'd to blowy 
 And the broad waters or to ebb or flow : 
 Both seem'd to wait, as 'twere instinctively, 
 The marvel of some wond'rous mystevy. 
 No living thing the glazed sea disturb'd ; 
 The baseless sands no longer were perturb'd ; 
 No more the eagle with a fearless flight 
 Spread its broad wings to near the solar light ■ 
 As if it sought than man a brighter day, 
 Hat lifeless in its mountain eyrie lay,
 
 1G3 
 
 Where, with a smothering force, its parent breast, 
 
 In a death-struggle had its younglings prest; 
 
 No more the sea-birds from the rocky chff 
 
 Scream'd at the nearing of the fowler's skiff: 
 
 Death was upon them with an icy hand, 
 
 And they lay strewn and withering on the strand ; 
 
 Or in a cavern-rent had found their graves, 
 
 Or sunk for ever in the tideless waves — 
 
 Where the proud Sea-queen, with her canvass bent 
 
 As if upon some distant voyage sent, 
 
 Courts the repelling breeze with drooping sail, 
 
 That once had quiver'd to the sweeping gale — 
 
 In loneliness, and threat'ning quick decay, 
 
 Without a hand to track her devious way ; 
 
 No longer boastful of her peopled deck. 
 
 She lays as listless as a rock-bound wreck, 
 
 A dreary sea-bas'd tomb, or charnel-house, 
 
 Where haggard deatli had held a last carouse. 
 
 And the broad forest, leafless with decay. 
 
 And beast and bird and reptile mingling lay 
 
 Upon the herbless ground ; no living thing 
 
 Essay 'd from thence on foot or poised wing; 
 
 The stagnant lake betray 'd no signs of life, 
 
 But seem'd as if for dissolution rife ;
 
 1G4 
 
 And where the busy millions once had trod, 
 
 And Princes rul'd them with imperious nod, 
 
 In mazy town or city, all was still : 
 
 No tongue to tell, no hand to do their will. 
 
 Their palaces in gorgeous pomp arose, 
 
 But lo ! their tenants slept their last repose ; 
 
 For not a living sound was heard to fall 
 
 Upon the marble stair or tap'stried wall ; 
 
 'Twas a world's dissolution, and to death, 
 
 All that had life had yielded up their breath. 
 
 And, ta'en in sudden peril, myriads lay 
 
 In crowded court and square and paved way ; 
 
 Hurried, unshriv'd, to their eternal doom. 
 
 And mould'ring, now, without a shroud or tomb. 
 
 The last survivor was a man of strength, 
 
 Who struggl'd long, but was subdu'd at length ; 
 
 Who knelt and pray'd and wept, as gazing round 
 
 Upon his fellows prostrate o'er the ground : 
 
 Some, in despair, had set their features hard ; 
 
 Some look'd towards Heav'n in confident reward ; 
 
 But all were dead save him — he would controul 
 
 The quick'ning pulse, that strove to free his soul 
 
 From its frail bondage : wrestling wild with death, 
 
 He for a time withheld his fleeting breath, .
 
 165 
 
 And rent the earth, — and strove to hide him tliere, 
 
 From the dread summons to Creation's bier ; 
 
 But as he struggled thus his life to save, 
 
 He made himself the dreaded thing — a Grave ; 
 
 And, dust to dust, behold humanity 
 
 Yielded to death the fearful victory. 
 
 And the gaunt tyrant seem'd as if astride 
 
 The universe lie stood, in sullen pride, 
 
 Smiling in ghastly triumph o'er the scene. 
 
 As if eternal conqu'ror he had been ; 
 
 Till a soul-thrilling, life-inspiring sound, 
 
 Burst from the clouds and shriv'd him to the ground : 
 
 Herald of Judgment — and celestial light 
 
 Op'd the broad gates of Heav'n's eternal height, 
 
 Revealing Christ upon His awful throne. 
 
 With hosts of Saints and Angels round him prone, 
 
 In glory clad, unspeakably divine. 
 
 Such as, eternal Heaven, alone is thine. 
 
 Waiting his bidding. Ti)en was Death o'ercome; 
 
 Then op'd the grave and rent the marble tomb ; 
 
 Then was the mighty raising of tlie dead ; 
 
 Then incoi-ruption frail corruption clad ; 
 
 And thunders roll'd, and lightnings went and came,' 
 
 And the earth trembled at Jehovah's name.
 
 166 
 
 As the archangel, with divine behest, 
 
 Prepar'd on high the mansions of the blest, 
 
 And led them where their Saviour bade them come, 
 
 The welcome guests of His eternal home. 
 
 But, lo ! the deadly wicked, who denied 
 
 The saving grace and pow'r of Him that died 
 
 Upon the Cross, — contemn'd th' Almighty wrath, — 
 
 Lightnings did suddenly their bodies scath ; 
 
 As burn'd their eye-balls unassuag'd by tears ; 
 
 As maledictions sounded in their ears ; 
 
 No tongue'to bless them, or with pitying strain 
 
 Pour balmy consolation o'er their pain ; 
 
 They were cast down, as from a fearful height. 
 
 To depths obscur'd by one eternal night : 
 
 A dread abyss, where, from a fiery throne. 
 
 Their tempter mock'd each agonizing groan 
 
 With sullen laughter ! Hunger, thirst, and fire 
 
 Wasted their blood, but life could not expire : 
 
 Eternal now, their flesh they wailing rend, 
 
 Gnashing their teeth in torments without end : 
 
 But Heav'n, how peaceful thine eternal reign. 
 
 Where kindred spirits meet in joyous vein,
 
 167 
 
 In presence of their God ; whose glorious face 
 Diffuses life and love through ev'ry space ; 
 Whose words dissolve like honey on the ears 
 Of all who dwell in his exalted spheres, 
 With such surpassing melody, that, lo ! 
 The angels list with wonder as they flow 
 Out-pouring henisons of heav'nly praise 
 Upon the heads of all, whose righteous ways 
 And lively faith in Christ's atoning blood 
 Had sav'd them from the life-embittering flood. 
 In beauteous regions of eternal day, 
 Where Martyrs, Saints, and Angels ever stray, 
 They walk in glory, and in love rejoice. 
 And, lo ! are blest by ev'ry tongue and voice. 
 Such as no eye hath seen nor ear hath heard, 
 But only tongues prophetic have declar'd 
 In Holy Writ — Such is the sacred place 
 Where men with angels mingle face to face ; 
 Where from His throne, sublime to angels' sight, 
 Jesus each bosom fills with pure delight ; 
 Nor trembling hope have they, nor burning fear, 
 But all is peace and love — for God is there.
 
 168 
 AUTUMNAL BEAUTY. 
 
 Composed, extempore, in the walks of St. John's College, Cambridge. 
 
 Where drooping willows lap the languid stream, 
 When golden Autumn shakes her rustling wings, 
 And o'er the verdant turf her lustre flings, 
 Oh ! how delightful 'tis to lie and dream ! 
 So rich, so varied the surrounding scene ; 
 This ting'd with yellow, that with lake and green : 
 Enchanting — all is one continued view 
 Of loveliness, sublimely just and true : 
 Come hither, ye who blend the tints of art ; 
 
 Ye who would paint as Nature loves to glow ; 
 'Tis only she the secret can impart. 
 
 And all the truth you vainly seek bestow : 
 She taught a Claude to charm the gazing throng, 
 And pour'd her treasures o'er a Thomson's song ! 
 
 FINIS.
 
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