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There rose no day, there rolld no hour
Of pleasure unembitter'd;
That gall’d not while it glitter'd.
The serpent of the field, by art
And spells, is won from harming ;
It will not list to wisdom's lore,
Nor music's voice can lure it;
The soul that must endure it.
WHEN COLDNESS WRAPS THIS SUFFER.
Ah, whither strays the immortal mind ?
Then, unembodied, doth it trace
By steps each planet's heavenly way? Or fill at once the realms of space,
A thing of eyes, that all survey ?
Eternal, boundless, undecay'd,
A thought unseen, but seeing all,
Shall it survey, shall it recal:
So darkly of departed years,
And all, that was, at once appears.
Before creation peopled earth,
Its eye shall roll through chaos back; And where the furthest heaven had birth,
The spirit trace its rising track. And where the future mars or makes,
Its glance dilate o'er all to be, While sun is quench'd or system breaks,
Fix'd in its own eternity,
Above or Love, Hope, Hate, or Fear,
It lives all passionless and pure: An age
shall fleet like earthly year; Its years as moments shall endure. Away, away, without a wing,
O'er all, through all, its thought shall fly A nameless and eternal thing, Forgetting what it was to die.
VISION OF BELSHAZZAR.
The King was on his throne,
The Satraps thronged the hall;
O'er that high festival.
In Judah deem'd divine-
The godless Heathen's wine!
In that same hour and hall,
. The fingers of a hand Came forth against the wall,
And wrote as if on sand :
The fingers of a man:
A solitary hand Along the letters ran,
And traced them like a wand.
The monarch saw, and shook,
And bade no more rejoice; All bloodless wax'd his look,
And tremulous his voice. « Let the men of lore appear,
6. The wisest of the earth, “And expound the words of fear,
“Which mar our royal mirth.”
Chaldea's seers are good,
But here they have no skill; And the unknown letters stood
Untold and awful still. And Babel's men of age
Are wise and deep in lore; But now they were not sage,
They saw-but knew no more.
A captive in the land,
A stranger and a youth,
He saw that writing's truth.
The lamps around were bright,
The prophecy in view;
The morrow proved it true.
“Belshazzar's grave is made,
“ His kingdom pass'd away, “ He, in the balance weigh’d,
“ Is light and worthless clay. “ The shroud, his robe of state,
“ His canopy the stone; “ The Mede is at his gate!
" The Persian on his throne !"
SUN OF THE SLEEPLESS.
Son of the sleepless ! melancholy star !