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Which forced me to begin my tale ;
Since then, at an uncertain hour, show.shoe That agony returns : life , an ago. And till my ghastly tale is told,
This heart within me burns.
I pass like night from land to land;
What loud uproar bursts from that door !
O wedding-guest! this soul hath been
sweeter than the marriage-feast,
To walk together to the kirk, -
THE ANCIENT MAKINER.
Farewell, farewell ! but this I tell
And to trach, by wie own exam. ple, love and reverence to all things that God mada and loveth.
He prayeth best who loveth best
The mariner, whose eye is bright,
MIRABEAU. – Sterling.
Not oft has peopled Earth sent up
So deep and wide a groan before,
66 The life of Mirabeau is o'er !”
For well the startled sense divined
Than aught that now remained behind.
The scathed and haggard face of will,
And look so strong with weaponed thought,
The All between themselves and naught;
And so they st. od aghast and pale,
As if to see the azure sky
The black and bare Infinity.
For he, while all men trembling peered
Upon the Future's empty space,
The oracle unveil its face ;
A thicker weight of darkness fell,
The wearied master of he spell.
A myriad hands like shadows weak,
Or stiff and sharp as bestial claws,
That bore his country's life and laws ;
And quailed beneath the living grasp
Nor pleasure's cup can madly clasp.
France did not reck how fierce a storm
Of rending passion, blind and grim,
When death sank heavily on him ;
Of toiling smoke and blasting flame,
Were summed for him as guilt and shame.
The wondrous life that flowed so long,
A stream of all commixtures vile,
With gold and crystal waves to smile.
It rolled with nighty breadth and sound
A new crestion through the land, Then sudden vanished into earth,
And left a barren waste of sand.
To them at first the world appeared
Aground, and lying shipwrecked there, And freedom's folded flag no more
With dazzling sun-burst filled the air; But 't is in after years for men
A sadder and a greater thing, To muse upon the inward heart
Of him who lived the People's King.
O wasted strength! O light and calm
And better hopes so vainly given! Like rain upon the herbless sea
Poured down by too benignant Heaven.
Or lost in aimless thunder-peals ;
In guideless whirl how oft it reels!
The mountain hears the torrent dash,
But rocks will not in billows run ;
that joyous drink ihe sun: Yet man, by choice and purpose weak,
Upon his own devoted head Calls down the flash, as if its fires
A crown of peaceful glory shed.
Alas!-- Yet wherefore mourn? The law
Is holier than a sage's prayer; The godlike power bestowed on men
Demands of them a godlike care;
And noblest gifts, if basely used,
Will sternliest avenge the wrong,
Whom once they made divinely strong.
The lamp, that, 'mid the sacred cell,
On heavenly forms its glory sheds,
A poisonous vapor glimmering spreads
Enormous through the twilight swell,
Rings loud and slow the dooming knell.
No more I hear a nation's shout
Around the hero's tread prevailing,
A nation's fierce, bewildered wailing;
And think of man and all his woe
When I remember Mirab au.