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He bade the guiding spirits of the Stars,
Sun, Stars, and Time, obey the voice, and all
The River at its bubbling fountain cries
The Clouds proclaim, like heralds, through the skies,
Throughout the world the mighty Master's laws
The Earth is full of life, the swelling seeds
And Summer hours, like flowery-harnessed steeds,
To Man's most wondrous hand the same voice cried
Go clear the woods, and o'er the bounding tide
Go draw the marble from its secret bed,
And make the cedar bend its giant head:
Let domes and columns through the wondering air
The world, O Man! is thine. But wouldst thou share?
Unto the soul of man the same voice spoke,
From out the chaos, thunder-like, it broke, -
Go track the comet in its wheeling race,
For Love and Hope, borne by the coming years,
Must seasons change, and countless years roll on,
And never see the crescent moon of Hope
"T is time thine heart and eye had wider scope
Dear brothers, wake! look up! be firm! be strong!
From out the starless night of fraud and wrong,
The chains have fallen from off thy wasted hands,
Proclaim that then thou wear'st no manacles,
Advance! thou must advance or perish now;
Advance! Why live with wasted heart and brow; –
Advance! or shrink at once into the grave;
Be bravely free, or artfully a slave:
Why fret thy master, if thou must have one?
"Advance three steps, the glorious work is done!"—
The first is COURAGE 't is a giant stride!
With bounding steps up Freedom's rugged side
KNOWLEDGE Will lead you to the dazzling heights,
Be wise, be just; with will as fixed as Fate's,
LXVIII. - GREECE.
D. F. M'CARTHY.
He who hath bent him o'er the dead,
The last of danger and distress,
Ajalon derives its renown from the command of Joshua: "Sun, stand thou still on Gibeon, and thou, moon, in the valley of Ajalon."
Before Decay's effacing fingers
Have swept the lines where beauty lingers,
That fires not, wins not, weeps not, now,
The doom he dreads, yet dwells upon
"T is Greece but living Greece no more!
That parts not quite with parting breath;
A gilded halo hovering round decay,
The farewell beam of feeling past away!
Spark of that flame, perchance of heavenly birth,
Which gleams, but warms no more its cherished earth.
Clime of the unforgotten brave!
Whose land from plain to mountain-cave
Was Freedom's home or Glory's grave!
Arise, and make again your own :
LXIX. THE BATTLE OF BEAL' AN DUINE'.
No cymbal clashed, no clarion rung,
Save when they stirred the roe.
At once there rose so wild a yell
Forth from the pass in tumult driven,
For life! for life! their flight they ply –
Before that tide of flight and chase,
THE BATTLE OF BEAL' AN DUINE'.
The spearmen's twilight wood?
"Down! down!" cried Mar, " your lances down!
That serried grove of lances brown
And closely shouldering side to side,
We'll drive them back as tame."
Bearing before them, in their course,
I heard the lance's shivering crash,
My banner-men, advance!
I see," he cried, "their column shake.
Now, gallants! for your ladies' sake,
The horsemen dashed among the rout,
Where, where was Roderick then?
Were worth a thousand men.
And refluent through the
pass of fear
* A Tinchell is a circle of sportsmen, who, by surrounding a great space,
and gradually narrowing, bring immense quantities of deer together.