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Light for the Burman vales;
For the islands of the sea!
For the coast where the slave-ship fills its sails
And her kidnapp'd babes the mother wails
Light for the ancient race
Exil'd from Zion's rest!
Homeless they roam from place to place,
They shudder at Sinai's fearful base;
Light for the darken'd earth!
Ye bless'd, its beams who shed, Shrink not, till the day-spring hath its birth, Till, wherever the footstep of man doth tread,
Salvation's banner spread broadly forth,
Shall gild the dream of the cradle-bed,
And clear the tomb
From its lingering gloom,
For the aged to rest his weary head.
TRUTH, knowledge, wisdom, love, oh! lay up these in
True wealth which we may share, and yet ourselves
died in Asia Minor, A. D. 1812, aged 31. He superintended the translations of the New Testament into Persian and Hindus tanee, and was instrumental in converting many Mohammedans as well as Hindoos.
TO A TAPER.
'Tis midnight.-On the globe dead slumber sits,
To watch, my taper, thy pale beacon burn,
And the sad meaning tear, unmixt with dread,
THE LAKE OF GENEVA.
CLEAR, placid Leman! thy contrasted lake, With the wild world I dwelt in, is a thing Which warns me, with its stillness, to forsake Earth's troubled waters for a purer spring. This quiet sail is as a noiseless wing To waft me from distraction; once I lov'd Torn ocean's roar, but thy soft murmuring Sounds sweet as if a sister's voice reprov'd, That I with stern delights should e'er have been so mov'd.
It is the hush of night, and all between
Thy margin and the mountains, dusk, yet clear, Mellow'd and mingling, yet distinctly seen, Save darken'd Jura, whose capt heights appear
Precipitously steep; and drawing near,
There breathes a living fragrance from the shore Of flowers yet fresh with childhood; on the ear Drops the light drip of the suspended oar, Or chirps the grasshopper one good-night carol more:
He is an evening reveller, who makes
SOME murmur, when their sky is clear,
If one small speck of dark appear
In their great heaven of blue.
One ray of God's good mercy gild
In palaces are hearts that ask,
YE holy towers', that shade the wave-worn steep,
Of list'ning tearful, when the wild winds beat
Of midnight, when the moon is hid on high, Keeps her lone watch upon the topmost tow'r, And turns her ear to each expiring cry; Blest, if her aid some fainting wretch might save, And snatch him cold and speechless from the grave! BOWLES.
1 Bamborough Castle, near Alnwick, is one of the oldest in the kingdom, and stands upon a perpendicular rock, 150 feet above the level of the sea. It was purchased, with the manor, in 1715, by Lord Crewe, bishop of Durham, who left it for many charitable purposes, but more especially for that of ministering relief to the seamen and vessels that are cast on this dangerous coast. In order to carry out his benevolent intentions, a constant watch is kept at the top of the tower, whence signals are made to the fishermen of Holy Island as soon as any vessel is discovered to be in distress, as, owing to the size and fury of the breakers, it is generally impossible to put off from the main land in a severe storm: but such difficulty rarely occurs in Holy Island. Signals are also made use of to warn vessels in thick and stormy weather from that most dangerous cluster of rocks called the Fern Islands. Two men on horseback patrol the coast a distance of eight miles from sunset to sunrise every stormy night; a life-boat is kept in constant readiness; also machinery for raising sunken vessels: every precaution is taken to prevent wrecks from being plundered, and for restoring the property saved to its rightful owners. An asylum is offered in the castle for a week, or even longer, to shipwrecked persons; an infirmary receives them in sickness; and the bodies of the wrecked are interred within the precincts of the establishment.
THEN are they blest indeed; and swift the hours
Bind her as his.
Across the threshold led,
And every tear kiss'd off as soon as shed,
Nor many moons o'er hill and valley rise