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But redder yet their fires shall glow
'Tis morn; but scarce yon level sun
The combat deepens!
On, ye brave,
Who rush to glory or the grave!
Wave, Munic h! all thy banners wave,
Few, few shall part where many meet;
Shall be a soldier's sepulchre !
HERE is no flock, however watched and tended,
But one dead lamb is there!
There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended,
But has one vacant chair!
The air is full of farewells to the dying,
The heart of Rachel, for her children crying,
Let us be patient! These severe afflictions
Not from the ground arise,
But oftentimes celestial benedictions
Assume this dark disguise.
We see but dimly through the mists and vapours;
Amid these earthly damps,
What seem to us but sad funereal tapers
May be heaven's distant lamps.
There is no death!
What seems so is transition;
This life of mortal breath
Is but a suburb of the life Elysian,
Whose portal we call Death.
She not dead-the child of our affection
But gone unto that school
Where she no longer needs our poor protection,
In that great cloister's stillness and seclusion,
Safe from temptation, safe from sin's pollution,
Day after day, we think what she is doing
Thus do we walk with her, and keep unbroken
The bond which nature gives,
Thinking that our remembrance, though unspoken,
Not as a child shall we again behold her,
In our embraces we again enfold her,
She will not be a child;
But a fair maiden, in her Father's mansion,
And beautiful with all the soul's expansion
And though, at times, impetuous with emotion
And anguish long suppressed,
The swelling heart heaves moaning like the ocean,
That cannot be at rest;
We will be patient, and assuage the feeling
We may not wholly stay ;
By silence sanctifying, not concealing,
The grief that must have way.
[HENRY WADSWorth LongfelLOW, by far the most successful of the American poets, occupies a distinguished position in a New England University. He is an accomplished linguist, and his poems display the advantages of his careful studies, especially of German literature.]
Does his Creator's power display,
Soon as the evening shades prevail,
Confirm the tidings as they roll,
And spread the truth from pole to pole.
[JOSEPH ADDISON, the masterly essayist, the elegant classic scholar, and, above all, the sincere Christian, was born in 1672, and educated at Oxford. He had reached his thirtieth year, and was still almost unknown to fame, when the poem of "The Campaign," written in celebration of Marlborough's earlier victories in the great war He held several of the Spanish succession, brought him Court patronage and fortune. high offices, and at last became one of the Under-Secretaries of State. Addison's fame is more identified with The Spectator than with his poetry. His tragedy of "Cato" has always been popular. He died in 1719.]