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From a fissure in a rocky steep
Of the great tomb of man ! The golden sun, He withdrew a stone, o'er which there ran The planets, all the infinite host of heaven, Fairy pencillings, a quaint design,
Are shining on the sad abodes of death, Veinings, leafage, fibres clear and fine, Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread And the fern's life lay in every line !
The globe are but a handful to the tribes
Of morning, traverse Barca's desert sands,
And millions in those solitudes, since first
The flight of years began, have laid them down
In their last sleep, -- the dead reign there alone! To him who, in the love of Nature, holds So shalt thou rest ; and what if thou withdraw Communion with her visible forms, she speaks In silence from the living, and no friend A various language: for his gayer hours Take note of thy departure ? All that breathe She has a voice of gladness, and a smile Will share thy destiny. The gay will laugh And eloquence of beauty; and she glides When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care Into his darker musings with a mild
Plod on, and each one, as before, will chase And gentle sympathy, that steals away
His favorite phantom ; yet all these shall leave Their sharpness, ere he is aware. When thoughts Their mirth and their employments, and shall Of the last bitter hour come like a blight Over thy spirit, and sad images
And make their bed with thee.' As the long train Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall, Of ages glide away, the sons of men — And breathless darkness, and the narrow house, | The youth in life's green spring, and he who goes Make thee to shudder, and grow sick at heart, In the full strength of years, matron and maid, Go forth under the open sky, and list
And the sweet babe, and the gray-headed man To Nature's teachings, while from all around Shall, one by one, be gathered to thy side Earth and her waters, and the depths of air By those who in their turn shall follow them. (omes a still voice, - Yet a few days, and thee
So live, that when thy summons comes to join The all-beholding sun shall see no more
The innumerable caravan that moves
To the pale realms of shade, where each shall take
Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and
soothed And, lost each human trace, surrendering up Thine individual being, shalt thou go
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave To mix forever with the elements;
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch To be a brother to the insensible rock,
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams. And to the sluggish clod, which the rude swain Turns with his share, and treatls upon. The oak Shall send his roots abroad, and pierce thy mould. Yet not to thine eternal resting-place
A HUNDRED YEARS TO COME. Shalt thou retire alone, nor couldst thou wish
Who'll press for gold this crowded street, Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down
A hundred years to come ? With patriarchs of the infant world, -- with kings,
Who'll tread yon church with willing feet, The powerful of the earth, — the wise, the good, A hundred years to come ? Fair forins, and hoary seers of ages past,
Pale, trembling age and fiery youth, All in one mighty sepulchre. The hills,
And childhood with his brow of truth, Rock-ribbed, and ancient as the sun; the vales The rich and poor, on land, on sea, Stretching in pensive quietness between ;
Where will the mighty millions be,
A hundred years to come ?
We all within our graves shall sleep,
A hundred years to come; Old ocean’s gray and melancholy waste,
No living soul for us will weep, Are but the solemn decorations all
A hundred years to come.
WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.
Say, did these fingers delve the mine?
WAVE after wave successively rolls on
INTIMATIONS OF IMMORTALITY FROM RECOLLECTIONS
OF EARLY CHILDHOOD.
HENRY THEODORE TUCKERMAN.
There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,
The earth, and every common sight,
To me did seem
Apparelled in celestial light, (The MSS. of this poem, which appeared during the first quarter of the present century, was said to have been found in the Museum The glory and the freshness of a dream. of the Royal College of Surgeons, in London, near a perfect hu- It is not now as it hath been of yore: man skeleton, and to have been sent by the curator to the Morn.
Turn wheresoe'er I may, ing Chronicle for publication. It excited so much attention that every effort was made to discover the author, and a responsible
By night or day, party went so far as to offer a reward of fifty guineas for inforination that would discover its origin. The author preserved luis in. The things which I have seen I now can see no cognito, and, we believe, has never been discovered.)
The rainbow comes and goes,
And lovely is the rose ;
The moon doth with delight What beauteous visions filled this spot,
Look round her when the heavens are bare ; What dreams of pleasure long forgot ?
Waters on a starry night
Are beautiful and fair ;
The sunshine is a glorious birth ;
But yet I know, where'er I go, Beneath this mouldering canopy
That there hath passed away a glory from the earth. Once shone the bright and busy eye,
III. But start not at the dismal void,
Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song, If social love that eye employed,
And while the young lambs bound If with no lawless fire it gleamed,
As to the tabor's sound, But through the dews of kindness beamed, To me alone there came a thought of grief ; That eye shall be forever bright
A timely utterance gave that thought relief, When stars and sun are sunk in night.
And I again am strong. Within this hollow cavern hung
The cataracts blow their trumpets from the The ready, swift, and tuneful tongue ;
steer, If Falsehood's honey it disdaineil,
No more shall grief of mine the season wrong. And when it could not praise was chained ; | I hear the echoes through the mountains throny; If bold in Virtue's cause it spoke,
The winds come to me from the fields of slee;', Yet gentle concord never broke,
And all the earth is gay ; This silent tongue shall plead for thee
Land and sea When Time unveils Eternity!
Give themselves up to jollity :
And with the heart of May
Forget the glories he hath known,
And that imperial palace whence he came.
Behold the child among his new-born blisses, happy shepherd boy!
A six years' darling of a pygmy size !
Fretted by sallies of his mother's kisses,
With light upon him from his father's eyes ! The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee ;
See at his feet some little plan or chart,
Some fragment from his dream of human life, My heart is at your festival,
Shaped by himself with newly learnéil art,
A wedding or a festival,
A mourning or a funeral,
And this hath now his heart,
And unto this he frames his song.
Then will he fit his tongue
To dialogues of business, love, or strife ;
But it will not be long
Ere this be thrown aside,
And with new joy and pride
The little actor cons another part,
Filling from time to time his “humorous stage"
With all the persons, down to palsied age, A single field which I have looked upon,
That life brings with her in her equipage ;
As if his whole vocation
Were endless imitation.
Thy soul's immensity !
| Thou best philosopher, who yet dost keep Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting ;
Thy heritage ! thou eye among the blind, The soul that rises with us, our life's star,
That, deaf and silent, read'st the eternal deep,
Haunted forever by the eternal mind !
Mighty prophet! Seer blest,
On whom those truths do rest
Which we are toiling all our lives to find,
In darkness lost, the darkness of the grave ! From God, who is our home.
Thou over whom thy immortality Heaven lies about us in our infancy !
Broods like the day, a master o'er a slave,
A presence which is not to be put by !
Thou little child, yet glorious in the might But he beholds the light, and whence it fows,- of heaven-born freedom on thy being's height, He sees it in his joy.
Why with such earnest pains dost thou provoke The youth who daily farther from the east
The years to bring the inevitable yoke,
Full soon thy soul shall have her earthly freight,
om lie upon thee with a weight
O joy! that in our embers
Is something that doth live, Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind ;
That nature yet remembers
What was so fugitive !
The thought of our past years in me doth breed nurse doth all she can Perpetual benediction : not, indeed, To make her foster-child, her inmate man, For that which is most worthy to be blest,
Delight and liberty, the simple creed
Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might; Of childhood, whether busy or at rest,
I only have relinquished one delight With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his To live beneath your more habitual sway. breast,
I love the brooks which down their channels fret, Not for these I raise
Even more than when I tripped lightly as they ; The song of thanks and praise ;
The innocent brightness of a new-born day But for those obstinate questionings
Is lovely yet ; Of sense and outward things,
The clouds that gather round the setting sun Fallings from us, vanishings,
Do take a sober coloring from an eye Blank misgivings of a creature
That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality ; Moving about in worlds not realized,
Another race hath been, and other palms are won. High instincts, before which our mortal nature Thanks to the human heart by which we live, Did tremble like a guilty thing surprised, - Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears, But for those first affections,
To me the meanest flower that blows can give Those shadowy recollections,
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears. Which, be they what they may, Are yet the fountain-light of all our day, Are yet a master light of all our seeing,
Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make Our noisy years seem moments in the being
SOLILOQUY: ON IMMORTALITY. Of the eternal silence : truths that wake,
SCENE. -CATO sitting in a thoughtful posture, with Plato's het To perish never,
on the Immortality of the Soul in his han, antaran sipera
on the table by him, Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavor, Nor man nor boy,
It must be so. Plato, thou reasonest well! Nor all that is at enmity with joy,
Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire, Can utterly abolish or destroy !
This longing after immortality ? Hence in a season of calm weather,
Or whence this secret dread, and inward horror, Though inland far we be,
Of falling into naught? Why shrinks the soul Our souls have sight of that immortal sea Back on herself, and startles at destruction ? Which brought us hither,
"T is the divinity that stirs within us ; Can in a moment travel thither,
"T is Heaven itself, that points out a hereafter, And see the children sport upon the shore, And intimates eternity to man. And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore. Eternity ! — thou pleasing, dreadful thought !
Through what variety of untried being, Then sing, ye birds, sing, sing a joyous song!
Through what new scenes and changes must we And let the young lambs bound
pass! As to the tabor's sound !
The wide, the unbounded prospect lies before me; We in thought will join your throng,
But shadows, clouds, and darkness rest upon it. Ye that pipe and ye that play,
Here will I hold. If there's a Power above us Ye that through your hearts to-day
(And that there is, all Nature cries aloud Feel the gladness of the May !
Through all her works), he must delight in virtue; What though the radiance which was once so And that which he delights in must be happy. bright
But when ? or where? This world was made for Be now forever taken from my sight,
Cæsar. Though nothing can bring back the hour I'm weary of conjectures, – this must end them. Of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower,
[Laying his hand on his scord. We will grieve not, rather find
Thus am I doubly armed: my death and life,
My bane and antidote, are both before me.
This in a moment brings me to an end ;
But this informs me I shall never die.
The soul, secured in her existence, smiles
At the drawn dagger, and defies its point.
The stars shall fade away, the sun himself In years that bring the philosophic mind.
Grow dim with age, and Nature sink in years;
Unhurt amid the war of elements,
Its proper power to hurt each creature feels:
Bulls aim their horns, and asses kick their heels.
Here Wisdom calls, “Seek virtue first, be bold;
As gold to silver, virtue is to gold.”
Let us be fixed and our own masters still.
BEHOLD the Sea, The opaline, the plentiful and strong,
'Tis the first virtue vices to abhor, Yet beantiful as is the rose in June,
And the first wisdom to be fool no more.
Long as to him who works for debt, the day. Purger of earth, and melicine of men ;
Not to go back is somewhat to advance, Creating a sweet climate by my breath,
And men must walk, at least, before they dance, Washing out harms and griefs from memory, And, in my mathematic ebb anıl flow,
True, conscious honor is to feel no sin ; Giving a hint of that which changes not. He's armed without that's innocent within. Rich are the sea-gods: — who gives gifts but they? They grope the sea for pearls, but more than pearls: For virtue's self may too much zeal be had, They pluck Force thence, and give it to the wise. The worst of madmen is a saint run mad. For every wave is wealth to Dædalus, Wealth to the cunning artist who can work
If wealth alone can make and keep us blest,
That God of nature who within us still
Inclines our actions, not constrains our will. The rocky coast, smite Aniles into dust,
It is not poetry, but prose run mad.
Pretty in amber to observe the forms
The things, we know, are neither rich noi rare, Meu to all shores that front the hoary main. But wonder how the mischief they got there !