CLARE

CLARENCE'S DREAM.

\LARENCE—Oh, I have passed a miserable night, So full of ugly sights, of ghastly dreams,

That, as I am a Christian faithful man,
I would not spend another such a night,
Though 't were to buy a world of happy days,
So full of dismal terror was the time!
Methought that I had broken from the tower,
And was embarked to cross to Burgundy,
And in my company my brother Gloster,
Who from my cabin tempted me to walk

Upon the hatches. Thence we looked toward England,
And cited up a thousand heavy times,
During the wars of York and Lancaster,

That had befallen us. As we passed along

Upon the giddy footing of the hatches,

Methought that Gloster stumbled; and, in falling,
Struck me, that sought to stay him, overboard,

Into the tumbling billows of the main.

Oh, Heaven! Methought what pain it was to drown!
What dreadful noise of waters in my ears!
What sights of ugly death within my eyes!
Methought I saw a thousand fearful wrecks;
A thousand men, that fishes gnawed upon;
Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl,
Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels,

All scattered in the bottom of the sea.

Some lay in dead men's skulls: and in those holes
Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept,
(As 't were in scorn of eyes,) reflecting gems,
That wooed the slimy bottom of the deep,
And mocked the dead bones that lay scattered by.

Brak. Had you such leisure, in the time of death, To gaze upon these secrets of the deep?

Clar.-Methought I had; and often did I strive To yield the ghost; but still the envious flood Kept in my soul, and would not let it forth To seek the empty, vast, and wandering air; But smothered it within my panting bulk, Which almost burst to belch it in the sea. Brak.-Awaked you not with this sore agony? Clar.-No, no! my dream was lengthened after life; Oh, then began the tempest to my soul! I passed, methought, the melancholy flood, With that grim ferryman which poets write of, Unto the kingdom of perpetual night.

The first that there did greet my stranger soul
Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick,
Who cried aloud-"What scourge for perjury
Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence?"
And so he vanished. Then came wandering by
A shadow like an angel, with bright hair
Dabbled in blood, and he shrieked out aloud-
"CLARENCE is come,—false, fleeting, perjured Clarence,—
That stabbed me in the field by Tewksbury;-
SEIZE on him, furies! take him to your torments!"
With that, methought a legion of foul fiends
Environed me, and howled in mine ears
Such hideous cries, that, with the very noise,
I trembling waked, and, for a season after,
Could not believe but that I was in hell,-
Such terrible impression made my dream.-SHAKSPEARE.

-

ODE TO THE DEITY.

The following ode is from the Russian Authology, and was composed by Derz. haven, who had never seen our Scriptures. It was translated into Japanese by order of the emperor, and is hung up, embroidered with gold, in the temple of Jedds. It has been translated into the Chinese and Tartar languages, written upon silk, and suspended in the imperial palace at Pekin.

H! Thou Eternal One! whose presence bright

All space doth occupy-all motion guide; Unchang'd through time's devastating flight, Thou, only, God! There is no God beside. Being above all beings! Mighty One,

Whom none can comprehend, and none explore; Who fill'st existence with Thyself alone;

All-embracing, all-supporting, ruling o'er—
Being whom we call God-and know no more.

In its sublime research, Philosophy

May measure out the ocean deep-may count The sands or the sun's rays-but God! for Thee

There is no weight nor measure; none can mount
Up to Thy mysteries. Reason's brightest spark,
Though aided by thy light, in vain would try
To trace thy counsels infinite and dark,

And thought is lost ere thought can soar so high;
Even like past moments in eternity.

Thou, from primeval nothingness didst call,
First chaos, then existence-Lord, on Thee
Eternity had its foundation; all

Sprang forth from Thee—of light, joy, harmony,
Sole origin-all life, all beauty, Thine.

Thy word created all, and doth create;

Thy splendor fills all space with rays divine;

Thou art, and wert, and shalt be glorious! great!
Life-giving, life-sustaining potentate!

Thy chains the unmeasur'd Universe surround;
Upheld by Thee, by Thee inspired with breath!
Thou the beginning with the end hast bound,
And beautifully mingled life with death!
As sparks mount upward from the fiery blaze,

So suns are born, so worlds spring forth from The; And, as the spangles in the sunny rays

Shine round the silver snow, the pageantry Of heaven's bright army glitters in Thy praise.

A million torches lighted by Thy hand
Wander, unwearied, thro' the blue abyss;
They own Thy power, accomplish Thy command,
All gay with life, all eloquent with bliss.
What shall we call them ?-Piles of crystal light?
A glorious company of golden streams?

Lamps of celestial ether burning bright?

Suns lighting systems with their joyous beams? But Thou, to these, art as the noon to night!

Yes! as a drop of water in the sea,

All this magnificence in Thee is lost;

What are ten thousand worlds compared to Thee?
And what am I then? Heaven's unnumbered kost,
Though multiplied by myriads, and array'd

In all the glory of sublimest thought,

Is but an atom in the balance, weigh'd

Against Thy goodness!-is a cypher brought
Against Infinity! What am I then? Naught!

Naught! But the effluence of Thy light divine,
Pervading worlds, hath reach'd my bosom too;
Yes! in my being doth Thy being shine

As shine the sunbeams in a drop of dew.

Naught!-but I live, and on Hope's pinions fly,
Eager, toward Thy presence; for in Thee
I live, and breathe, and dwell; aspiring high,
Even to the throne of Thy divinity:

I am, O God! and surely Thou must be!

Thou art directing, guiding all, Thou art!
Direct my understanding then to Thee!
Control my Spirit-guide my wand'ring heart,
Tho' but an atom 'midst immensity.

Still, I am something, fashioned by Thy hand;
I hold a middle rank 'twixt heaven and earth;
On the last verge of mortal being stand,

Close to the realms where angels have their birth, Just on the boundary of the spirit land.

The chain of being is complete in me;

In me is matter's last gradation lost, And the next step is Spirit-Deity!

I can command the lightning, and am dust, A monarch, and a slave, a worm, a god;

Whence came I here? and how?-so marvellously
Constructed and conceiv'd?-unknown! This clod
Lives surely through some higher energy,
For, of itself alone, it could not be!

Creator! Yes, Thy wisdom and Thy word
Created me! Thou source of life and good!
Thou spirit of my spirit, and my Lord!

'Thy light, Thy love, in their bright plenitude
Fill'd me with an immortal soul, to spring
Over the abyss of death, and bade it wear
The garments of eternal day, and wing

Its heavenly flight beyond this little sphere,
Even in its source to Thee, its Author, there.