Page images
PDF
EPUB

soon after his accession to the English throne, ordered het body to be removed to Westminster Abbey, and to be deposited among the monarchs of England.

ROBERTSON'S HISTORY OF SCOTLAND.

THE INDIAN PHILOSOPHER.
WHY should our joys transform to pain
Why gentle Hymen's silken chain
A plague of iron prove?

Bendish, 'tis strange the charm that binds
Millions of hands, should leave their minds
At such a loose from love.

In vain I sought the wond'rous cause,
Rang'd the wide fields of Nature's laws,
And urg'd the schools in vain ;

Then deep in thought, within my breast
My soul retir'd, and slumber dress'd
A bright instructive scene.

O'er the broad lands, and cross the tide,.
On Fancy's airy horse I ride

(Sweet rapture of the mind!)
Till on the banks of Ganges' flood,.
In a tall ancient grove I stood

For sacred use design'd.

Hard by, a venerable priest,

Ris'n with his god, the sun, from rest,

Awoke his morning song;

Thrice he conjur'd the murm'ring stream;:

The birth of souls was all his theme,
And half divine his tongue.

He sang-"th' eternal rolling flame,
That vital mass, that still the same

Does all our minds compose:

But shap'd in twice ten thousand frames;
Thence diff'ring souls of diff'ring names,
And jarring tempers rose.

"The mighty pow'r, that form'd the mind,
One mould for ev'ry two design'd,

And bless'd the new born pair:
This be a match for this (he said) :
Then down he sent the souls he made,
To seek them bodies here:

"But, parting from their warm abode,
They lost their fellows on the road,
And never join'd their hands:
Ah cruel chance, and crossing fates!
Our eastern souls have dropp'd their mates
On Europe's barb'rous lands.

"Happy the youth, that finds the bride.
Whose birth is to his own allied,

The sweetest joy of life:

But oh the crowds of wretched souls
Fetter'd to minds of diff'rent moulds,
And chain'd t' eternal strife!"

Thus sang the wond'rous Indian bard;
My soul with vast attention heard,
While Ganges ceas'd to flow:
"Sure then (I cried) might I but see
That gentle nymph that twinn'd with me,
I may be happy too.

"Some courteous angel, tell me where,
What distant lands this unknown fair,
Or distant seas detain ?

Swift as the wheel of nature rolls

I'd fly, to meet, and mingle souls,
And wear the joyful chain."

WATTS'S LYRICS.

DESCRIPTION OF THE FIRST PAIR.

TWO of far nobler shape, erect and tall,
Godlike erect, with native honour clad
In naked majesty, seem'd lords of all:
And worthy seem'd; for in their looks divine
The image of their glorious Maker shone,
Truth, wisdom, sanctitude, severe and pure
(Severe, but in true filial freedom plac'd),
Whence true authority in men; though both
Not equal, as their sex not equal seem'd:
For contemplation he and valour form'd ;
For softness she and sweet attractive grace;
He for God only, she for God in him :
His fair large front and eye sublime declar'd
Absolute rule; and hyacinthine locks
Round from his parted forelock manly hung
Clust'ring, but not beneath his shoulders broad:
She, as a veil, down to the slender waist
Her unadorned golden tresses wore
Dishevell❜d, but in wanton ringlets wav'd,
As the vine curls her tendrils, which implied
Subjection, but requir'd with gentle sway,
And by her yielded, by him best receiv'd,
Yielded with coy submission, modest pride,
And sweet, reluctant, amorous delay.

ON THE MARRIAGE TIE.

MILTON.

HAIL, wedded love, mysterious law, true source Of human offspring, sole propriety

In Paradise of all things common else.

By thee adult'rous lust was driv'n from men
Among the bestial herds to range; by thee,

Founded in reason, loyal, just, and pure,
Relations dear, and all the charities

Of father, son, and brother, first were known.
Here Love his golden shafts employs, here lights
His constant lamp, and waves his purple wings,
Reigns here and revels; not in the bought smile
Of harlots, loveless, joyless, unendear'd,
Casual fruition; nor in court-amours,

Mix'd dance, or wanton mask, or midnight ball,
Or serenade, which the starv'd lover sings
To his proud fair, best quitted with disdain.

MILTON

THE PATRIOT'S ELYSIUM. THERE is a land, of ev'ry land the pride, Belov'd by Heaven o'er all the world beside; Where brighter suns dispense serener light, And milder moons emparadise the night; A land of beauty, virtue, valour, truth, Time-tutor'd age, and love-exalted youth. The wand'ring mariner, whose eye explores The wealthiest isles, the most enchanting shores, Views not a realm so bountiful and fair, Nor breathes the spirit of a purer air; In ev'ry clime the magnet of his soul, Touch'd by remembrance, trembles to that pole; For in this land of Heav'n's peculiar grace, The heritage of nature's noblest race, There is a spot of Earth supremely blest, A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest, Where man, creation's tyrant, casts aside His sword and sceptre, pageantry and pride, While in his soften'd looks benignly blend The sire, the son, the husband, father, friend:

Here woman reigns; the mother, daughter, wife,
Strews with fresh flow'rs the narrow way of life;
In the clear Heav'n of her delightful eye,
An angel-guard of loves and graces lie;
Around her knees domestic duties meet,
And fireside pleasures gambol at her feet.
"Where shall that land, that spot of Earth be found?”
Art thou a man ?—a patriot ? — look around ;
O, thou shalt find, howe'er thy footsteps roam,
That land thy country, and that spot thy home.
MONTGOMERY'S POEMS.

TO A FRIEND ON HIS MARRIAGE.
ON thee, blest youth, a father's hand confers
The maid thy earliest, fondest wishes knew.
Each soft enchantment of the soul is hers;
Thine be the joys to firm attachment due.
As on she moves with hesitating grace,

She wins assurance from his soothing voice;
And with a look the pencil could not trace,
Smiles thro' her blushes, and confirms the choice.

Spare the fine tremors of her feeling frame!
To thee she turns-forgive a virgin's fears!
To thee she turns with surest, tend'rest claim;
Weakness that charms, reluctance that endears!
At each response the sacred rite requires,

From her full bosom bursts th' unbidden sigh;
A strange mysterious awe the scene inspires,
And on her lips the trembling accents die.
O'er her fair face what wild emotions play!
What lights and shades in sweet confusion blend !
Soon shall they fly, glad harbingers of day,
And settled sunshine on her soul descend!

« PreviousContinue »