Tam. I know that they were made to rule the night.
Had. Like palace lamps! Thou echoest well thy grandsire.
Woman! the stars are living, glorious,
Amazing, infinite!
Tam. Speak not so wildly.
know them numberless, resplendent, set As symbols of the countless, countless years That make eternity.
Oh! mighty, glorious, miserable thought!
Had ye endured like those great sufferers,
Like them, seen ages, myriad ages roll;
Could ye but look into the void abyss
With eyes experienced, unobscured by torments,
Then mightst thou name it, name it feelingly.
Tam. What ails thee, Hadad? Draw me not so close.
Had. Tamar! I need thy love-more than thy love
Tam. Thy cheek is wet with tears-Nay, let us
"Tis late-I cannot, must not linger.
[Breaks from him, and exit. Had. Loved and abhorred! Still, still accursed! [He paces twice or thrice up and down with passionate gestures; then turns his face to the sky, and stands a moment in silence.]
In the illimitable space, in what
Profound of untried misery, when all
His worlds, his rolling orbs of light, that fill
With life and beauty yonder infinite,
Their radiant journey run, for ever set,
Where, where, in what abyss shall I be groaning?
THE COUNTRY SCHOOLMASTER.
WHERE yonder humbler spire salutes the eye,
It's vane slow turning in the liquid sky,
Where, in light gambols, healthy striplings sport,
Ambitious learning builds her outer court;
A grave preceptor, there, her usher stands,
And rules without a rod her little bands.
Some half-grown sprigs of learning graced his brow:
Little he knew, though much he wish'd to know,
Enchanted hung o'er Virgil's honey'd lay,
And smiled to see desipient Horace play;
Glean'd scraps of Greek; and, curious, traced afar,
Through Pope's clear glass, the bright Mæonian star
Yet oft his students at his wisdom stared,
For many a student to his side repair'd,
Surprised, they heard him Dilworth's knots untie,
And tell what lands beyond the Atlantic lie.
Many his faults; his virtues small, and few;
Some little good he did, or strove to do;
Laborious still, he taught the early mind,
And urged to manners meek and thoughts refined;
Truth he impress'd, and every virtue praised ;
While infant eyes in wondering silence gazed;
The worth of time would day by day unfold,
And tell them every hour was made of gold.
YE Muses! dames of dignified renown,
Revered alike in country and in town,
Your bard the mysteries of a visit show,
For sure your ladyships those mysteries know:
What is it, then, obliging Sisters! say,
The debt of social visiting to pay?
"Tis not to toil before the idol pier;
To shine the first in fashion's lunar sphere;
By sad engagements forced abroad to roam,
And dread to find the expecting fair at home!
To stop at thirty doors in half a day,
Drop the gilt card, and proudly roll away;
To alight, and yield the hand with nice parade;
Up stairs to rustle in the stiff brocade;
Swim through the drawing-room with studied air,
Catch the pink'd beau, and shade the rival fair;
To sit,.to curb, to toss with bridled mien,
Mince the scant speech, and lose a glance between; Unfurl the fan, display the snowy arm,
And ope, with each new motion, some new charm:
Or sit in silent solitude, to spy
Each little failing with malignant eye;
Or chatter with incessancy of tongue,
Careless if kind, or cruel, right or wrong;
To trill of us and ours, of mine and me,
Our house, our coach, our friends, our family,
While all th' excluded circle sit in pain,
And glance their cool contempt or keen disdain :
T' inhale from proud Nanking a sip of tea,
And wave a court'sy trim and flirt away:
Or waste at cards peace, temper, health, and life,
Begin with sullenness, and end in strife;
Lose the rich feast by friendly converse given,
And backward turn from happiness and heaven.
It is in decent habit, plain and neat,
To spend a few choice hours in converse sweet,
Careless of forms, to act th' unstudied part,
To mix in friendship, and to blend the heart;
To choose those happy themes which all must feel,
The moral duties and the household weal,
The tale of sympathy, the kind design,
Where rich affections soften and refine;
T'amuse, to be amused, to bless, be bless'd,
And tune to harmony the common breast;
To cheer, with mild good-humour's sprightly ray,
And smooth life's passage o'er its thorny way;
To circle round the hospitable board,
And taste each good our generous climes afford :
To court a quick retucu with accents kind,
And leave, at parting, some regret behind.
THE DESTRUCTION OF THE PEQUODE.
Ан me! while up the long, long vale of time,
Reflection wanders towards th' eternal vast,
How starts the eye at many a change sublime,
Unbosom'd dimly oy the ages pass'd!
What Mausoleums crowd the mournful waste!
The tombs of empires fallen! and nations gone!
Each, once inscribed in gold with “AVE TO LAST,”
Sate as a queen; proclaim'd the world her own,
And proudly cried, "By me no sorrows shall be
known."
Soon fleets the sunbright form by man adored.
Soon fell the head of gold, to Time a prey;
The arms, the trunk, his cankering tooth devour'd,
And whirlwinds blew the iron dust away.
Where dwelt imperial Timur? far astray,
Some lonely-musing pilgrim now inquires:
And, rack'd by storms, and hastening to decay,
Mohammed's mosque foresees its final fires,
And Rome's more lordly temple day by day expires.
As o'er proud Asian realms the traveller winds,
His manly spirit, hush'd by terror, falls;
When some deceased town's lost site he finds,
Where ruin wild his pondering eye appals;
Where silence swims along the moulder'd walls,
And broods upon departed Grandeur's tomb.
Through the lone, hollow aisles sad Echo calls
At each slow step; deep sighs the breathing gloom,
And weeping fields around bewail their empress
doom.
Where o'er a hundred realms the throne uprose,
The screech-owl nests, the panther builds his home;
Sleep the dull newts, the lazy adders doze,
Where pomp and luxury danced the golden room.
Low lies in dust the sky-resembled dome;
Tall grass around the broken column waves;
And brambles climb, and lonely thistles bloom:
The moulder'd arch the weedy streamlet laves,
And low resound, beneath, unnumber'd sunken
graves.
Soon fleets the sunbright form by man adored,
And soon man's demon chiefs from memory fade.
In musty volume now must be explored,
Where dwelt imperial nations, long decay'd.
The brightest meteors angry clouds invade;
And where the wonders glitter'd, none explain.
Where Carthage, with proud hand, the trident sway'd,
Now mud-wall'd cots sit sullen on the plain,
And wandering, fierce and wild, sequester'd Arabs
reign.
In thee, oh Albion! queen of nations, live [known; . Whatever splendours earth's wide realms have In thee proud Persia sees her pomp revive,
And Greece her arts, and Rome her lordly throne: By every wind thy Tyrian fleets are blown; Supreme, on Fame's dread roll, thy heroes stand; All ocean's realms thy naval sceptre own;
Of bards, of sages, how august thy band!
And one rich Eden blooms around thy garden'd land.
But oh, how vast thy crimes! Through Heaven's
When few centurial suns have traced their way;
When Southern Europe, worn by feuds severe,
Weak, doting, fallen, has bow'd to Russian sway,
And setting Glory beam'd her farewell ray,
To wastes, perchance, thy brilliant fields shall turn;
In dust thy temples, towers, and towns decay;
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