these then dissolve to dust, and make a way
for bolder foliage, nursed by their decay;
the long-enduring ferns in time will all
die, and depose their dust upon the wall,
where the wing'd seed may rest till many a flower
show Flora's triumph o'er the falling tower.

OF

G. CRABBE

963 THE PECULIAR SEAT OF GOD'S GLORY

BOVE the subtle foldings of the sky,

AB

above the well-set orbs' soft harmony,
above those petty lamps that gild the night,
there is a place, o'erflown with hallowed light,
where Heaven, as if it left itself behind,

is stretched out far nor its own bounds can find:
here peaceful flames swell up the sacred place,
nor can the glory contain itself i' th' endless space.
For there no twilight of the sun's dull ray
glimmers upon the pure and native day;
no pale-faced moon does in stolen beams appear,
or with dim taper scatters darkness there :
on no smooth sphere the restless seasons slide,
no circling motion doth swift time divide:
nothing is here to come, and nothing past,
but an eternal Now does always last.

A. COWLEY

964

HELL

ENEATH the silent chambers of the earth,
where the sun's fruitful beams give metals birth.

where he the growth of fatal gold does see,
gold which above more influence has than he;
beneath the dens where unfledged tempests lie,
and infant winds their tender voices try;
beneath the mighty ocean's wealthy caves,
beneath the eternal fountain of all waves,
where their vast court the mother-waters keep
and undisturbed by moons in silence sleep,
there is a place deep, wondrous deep below,
which genuine night and horror does o'erflow:
here no dear glimpse of the sun's lovely face
strikes through the solid darkness of the place;

965

966

no dawning morn does her kind reds display;
one slight weak beam would here be thought the day;
no gentle stars with their fair gems of light
offend the tyrannous and unquestioned night;
here, Lucifer the mighty captive reigns,

proud midst his woes and tyrant in his chains.

THA

BELIEF IN A FUTURE LIFE

A. COWLEY

'HAT there's a self, which after death shall live,
all are concerned about and all believe;

that something's ours when we from life depart,
this all conceive, all feel it at the heart;
the wise of learned antiquity proclaim

this truth, the public voice declares the same;
no land so rude but looks beyond the tomb
for future prospects in a world to come.
Hence, without hopes to be in life repaid,
we plant slow oaks posterity to shade;
and hence vast pyramids aspiring high
lift their proud heads aloft and time defy.
Hence is our love of fame; a love so strong,
we think no dangers great or labours long,
by which we hope our beings to extend
and to remotest times in glory to descend.

GROUP OF HERDS AND FLOCKS

S. JENYNS

ROUND the adjoining brook, that purls along

A the vocal grove, now fretting o'er a rock,

now scarcely moving thro' a reedy pool,
now starting to a sudden stream, and now
gently diffused into a limpid plain;

a various group the herds and flocks compose
rural confusion! On the grassy bank
some ruminating lie; while others stand
half in the flood, and often bending sip
the circling surface. In the middle droops

the strong laborious ox, of honest front,

which incomposed he shakes; and from his sides the troublous insects lashes with his tail, returning still.

J. THOMSON

967

958

CE

ULYSSES' VISION OF PENELOPE

EASE, O Ulysses! cease at length to mourn my absence, my departure: none among the Achaian chiefs to happy homes return; another torch hath lit beloved wives, children so cherisht roam in other lands; but me, besought until my latest hour by many suitors, no new love hath toucht (gods! bear me witness!) nor untimely fate by Dian's dart o'ertaken me; but grief perpetual for thy loss, thy toils, thy woes, thy wanderings over every land and sea, and rising over all, thy manly breast, thy beauteous image...these, Ulysses! these wasted my youth, now mingled with the shades. Farewell, farewell! enjoy this tranquil land blest with eternal spring; remember me; but not too fondly, lest enjoyment cease.

REF

MODERN JERUSALEM

W. S. LANDOR

EFT of thy sons, amid thy foes forlorn, mourn, widowed Queen, forgotten Sion, mourn! is this thy place, sad city, this thy throne, where the wild desert rears its craggy stone; while suns unblessed their angry lustre fling, and wayworn pilgrims seek the scanty spring?— Where now thy pomp, which kings with envy viewed? where now thy might, which all those kings subdued? no martial myriads muster in thy gate; no suppliant nations in thy Temple wait; no prophet bards, the glittering courts among, wake the full lyre and swell the tide of song: but lawless force and meagre want are there, and the quick-darting eye of restless fear, while cold oblivion, 'mid thy ruins laid, folds his dank wing beneath the ivy shade.

R. HEBER

HAT does not fade? The tower that long had stood

WHAT

the crush of thunder and the warring winds,
shook by the slow but sure destroyer time,
now hangs in doubtful ruins o'er its base;
and flinty pyramids and walls of brass
descend: the Babylonian spires are sunk;
Achaia, Rome and Egypt moulder down.
Time shakes the stable tyranny of thrones,
and tottering empires crush by their own weight.
This huge rotundity we tread grows old
and all those worlds that roll around the sun;
the sun himself shall die; and ancient night
again involve the desolate abyss

till the great Father through the lifeless gloom
extend his arm to light another world,

and bid new planets roll by other laws.

J. ARMSTRONG

970 PRIMITIVE OBSERVANCE IN THE FOUNDATION

OF CHURCHES

HEN in the antique age of bow and spear,

WHEN

and feudal rapine clothed with iron mail,
came ministers of peace intent to rear

the mother Church in yon sequestered vale;
then to her patron saint a previous rite
resounded with deep swell and solemn close,
through unremitting vigils of the night,
till from his couch the wisht-for Sun up rose.
He rose, and straight-as by divine command,
they, who had waited for that sign to trace
their work's foundation, gave with careful hand
to the high altar its determined place;
mindful of Him, who, in the orient born,
there lived and on the cross his life resigned,
and who, from out the regions of the morn
issuing in pomp, shall come to judge mankind.

W. WORDSWORTH

.971

THE MEETING OF MICHAEL AND SATAN

972

LONG time in even scale

the battle hung; till Satan, who that day
prodigious power had shewn and met in arms
no equal, ranging through the dire attack
of fighting Seraphim confused, at length

saw where the sword of Michael smote and felled
squadrons at once; with huge two-handed sway
brandished aloft the horrid edge came down
wide wasting; such destruction to withstand
he hasted, and opposed the rocky orb
of tenfold adamant, his ample shield,
a vast circumference. At his approach
the great Archangel from his warlike toil
surceased, and glad, as hoping here to end
intestine war in Heaven, the arch-foe subdued
or captive dragged in chains, with hostile frown
and visage all inflamed first thus began.

J. MILTON

THE ENCOUNTER OF SATAN AND DEATH

So spake the grisly Terror, and in shape,

speaking and so threatening, grew tenfold more dreadful and deform. On the other side, incensed with indignation, Satan stood unterrified, and like a comet burned, that fires the length of Ophiuchus huge, in the arctic sky, and from his horrid hair shakes pestilence and war. Each at the head leveled his deadly aim: their fatal hands no second stroke intend; and such a frown each cast at the other, as when two black clouds, with heaven's artillery fraught, come rattling on over the Caspian, then stand front to front, hovering a space, till winds the signal blow to join their dark encounter in mid air: so frowned the mighty combatants, that Hell grew darker at their frown: so matched they stood. J. MILTON