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When young and old in circle

Around the firebrands close;
When the girls are weaving baskets,
And the lads are shaping bows;

When the goodman mends his armour,
And trims his helmet's plume;
When the goodwife's shuttle merrily
Goes flashing through the loom;
With weeping and with laughter,
Still is the story told,

How well Horatius kept the bridge,
In the brave days of old!

LORD MACAULAY

141. GOD THE ONLY COMFORTER.

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THOU! who dry'st the mourner's tear,
How dark this world would be,

If, when deceived and wounded here,
We could not fly to Thee!

The friends, who in our sunshine live,
When winter comes, are flown;

And he who has but tears to give,
Must weep those tears alone.

But Thou wilt heal that broken heart,
Which, like the plants that throw
Their fragrance from the wounded part,
Breathes sweetness out of woe!

When joy no longer soothes or cheers,
And e'en the hope that threw
A moment's sparkle o'er our tears,
Is dimm'd and vanish'd too!-
Oh, who would bear life's stormy doom,
Did not thy Wing of Love

Come, brightly wafting through the gloom,
One Peace-branch from above?

Then sorrow, touch'd by Thee, grows bright
With more than rapture's ray;

As darkness shows us worlds of light

We never saw by day!

T. MOORE.

142. HUMAN LIFE.

THE lark has sung his carol in the sky;

TH

The bees have humm'd their noontide lullaby; Still in the vale the village-bells ring round, Still in Llewellyn-hall the jests resound; For now the caudle-cup is circling there, Now, glad at heart, the gossips breathe their And, crowding, stop the cradle to admire The babe, the sleeping image of his sire.

prayer,

A few short years and then these sounds shall hail The day again, and gladness fill the vale; So soon the child a youth, the youth a man, Eager to run the race his fathers ran.

Then the huge ox shall yield the broad sirloin; The ale, new brew'd, in floods of amber shine: And basking in the chimney's ample blaze, 'Mid many a tale told of his boyish days, The nurse shall cry, of all her ills beguiled, ""Twas on these knees he sate so oft and smiled!"

And soon again shall music swell the breeze! Soon, issuing forth, shall glitter through the trees Vestures of nuptial white; and hymns be sung, And violets scatter'd round; and old and young, In every cottage-porch with garlands green, Stand still to gaze, and, gazing, bless the scene; While, her dark eyes declining, by his side Moves in her virgin-veil the gentle bride.

And once, alas! nor in a distant hour, Another voice shall come from yonder tower; When in dim chambers long black weeds are seen, And weeping's heard where only joy has been; When by his children borne, and from his door Slowly departing to return no more,

He rests in holy earth with them that went before.

And such is Human Life; - so gliding on, It glimmers like a meteor, and is gone! Yet is the tale, brief though it be, as strange, As full methinks of wild and wondrous change, As any that the wandering tribes require, Stretch'd in the desert round their evening fire; As any sung of old in hall or bower

To minstrel-harps at midnight's witching hour!

ROGERS.

143. THE EXPULSION OF ADAM AND EVE FROM PARADISE.

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[From PARADISE LOST.]

TH' Archangel stood; and from the other hill
To their fix'd station, all in bright array,
The Cherubim descended; on the ground,
Gliding metéorous, as evening mist

Ris'n from a river o'er the marish glides,
And gathers round fast at the labourer's heel,
Homeward returning. High in front advanced,
The brandish'd sword of God before them blazed,
Fierce as a comet; which, with torrid heat,
And vapour as the Libyan air adust,
Began to parch that temp'rate clime; whereat
In either hand the hast'ning Angel caught
Our ling'ring parents, and to th' eastern gate
Led them direct, and down the cliff as fast
To the subjected plain; then disappear'd.
They, looking back, all th' eastern side beheld
Of Paradise, so late their happy seat,

Waved over by that flaming brand; the gate
With dreadful faces throng'd, and fiery arms.
Some natural tears they dropt, but wiped them soon;
The world was all before them, where to choose
Their place of rest, and Providence their guide:
They, hand in hand, with wand'ring steps and slow,
Through Eden took their solitary way.

MILTON.

144. THOU ART GONE TO THE GRAVE.

THOU HOU art gone to the grave! but we will not deplore thee,

Though sorrows and darkness encompass the tomb: Thy Saviour has pass'd through its portal before thee, And the lamp of his love is thy guide through the gloom!

Thou art gone to the grave! we no longer behold thee,
Nor tread the rough path of the world by thy side;
But the wide arms of Mercy are spread to enfold thee,
And sinners may die, for the Sinless has died!

Thou art gone to the grave! and, its mansion forsaking,
Perchance thy weak spirit in fear linger'd long;
But the mild rays of paradise beam'd on thy waking,
And the sound which thou heard'st was the Seraphim's
song!

Thou art gone to the grave! but we will not deplore thee,
Whose God was thy ransom, thy guardian and guide;
He gave thee, He took thee, and He will restore thee,
And death has no sting, for the Saviour has died!

BISHOP HEBER.

145. KINDRED HEARTS.

H! ask not, hope thou not too much

OH!

Of sympathy below;

Few are the hearts whence one same touch
Bids the sweet fountains flow:

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