Upon his brow he felt their breath, And looked, from that lone post of death, And shouted but once more aloud, While o'er him fast, thro' sail and shroud, They wrapped the ship in splendour wild; Then came a burst of thundering sound- With mast and helm, and pennon fair, Was that young faithful heart. MRS. HEMANS. CATO'S SOLILOQUY ON THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. It must be so-Plato, thou reason'st well, Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire, This longing after immortality? Or whence this secret dread and inward horror 'Tis Heaven itself that points out an hereafter Eternity! thou pleasing dreadful thought! Through what new scenes and changes must we pass ? The wide, th' unbounded prospect lies before me; Through all her works), he must delight in virtue, But when, or where? This world was made for Cæsar. The wreck of matter, and the crash of worlds. ADDISON. CHILDE HAROLD'S SONG. ADIEU! adieu! My native shore The night-winds sigh, the breakers roar, Yon sun that sets upon the sea, A few short hours, and he will rise Deserted is my own good hall, Its hearth is desolate; Wild weeds are gathering on the wall- Come hither, hither, my little page, Why dost thou weep and wail? Or dost thou dread the billow's rage, But dash the tear-drop from thine eye; "Let winds be shrill, let waves roll high, I fear not wave nor wind; "Yet marvel not, Sir Childe, that I "Am sorrowful in mind; "For I have from my father gone, "A mother whom I love, "And have no friend save these alone, "But thee-and One above. 66 Deem'st thou I tremble for my life? "Sir Childe, I'm not so weak; 'But thinking on an absent wife "Will blanch a faithful cheek. "My spouse and boys dwell near thy hall, "Along the bordering lake; "And when they on their father call, "What answer shall she make?" Enough, enough, my yeoman good, For who would trust the seeming sighs Fresh feres will dry the bright blue eyes, For pleasures past I do not grieve, And now I'm in the world alone, Perchance my dog will whine in vain, But, long e'er I come back again, With thee, my bark, I'll swiftly go Nor care what land thou bear'st me to, Welcome, welcome, ye dark blue waves! And when you fail my sight, Welcome, ye deserts and ye caves ! BYRON. My native land-good night! GERTRUDE VON DER WART. She is supposed to be standing near the rack on which her husband is perishing. HER hands were clasp'd, her dark eyes raised, Up to the fearful wheel she gazed All that she loved was there. The night was round her clear and cold, Its pale stars watching to behold "And bid me not depart," she cried, My Rudolph, say not so! "This is no time to quit thy side; Peace, peace, I cannot go. Hath the world aught for me to fear, "The world! what means it ?-mine is here'I will not leave thee now. 66 To strengthen me through this! And thou, mine honour'd love and true, "Bear on, bear nobly on! "We have the blessed heaven in view, And were not these high words to flow But oh! with such a glazing eye, With such a curdling cheek Love, love! of mortal agony Thou, only thou, should'st speak! The wind rose high, but with it rose While she sat striving with despair Beside his tortured form, And pouring her deep soul in prayer |