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attain to some degree of negative goodness. Arrived at the state of humanity, Man becomes accountable for his actions. Attaching bimself to evil, he falls, in death, into such an animal state of existence as corresponds with the turpitude of his soul, which may be so great as to cast him down into the lowest point of existence, whence he shall again return through such a succession of animal existences as are most proper to divest him of his evil propensities. After traversing such a course, he will again rise to the state of humanity; whence, according to contingencies, he may rise fall. Yet, should he fall, he shall again rise ; and should this happen for millions of ages, the path to happiness is still open to him, and will 80 remain to all eternity; for, sooner or later, he will infallibly arrive at his destined station of happiness, from which, when attained, he will never fall. The ultimate states of happiness are eternally undergoing the most delightful renovations, in endless succession. These renovations will not, like the deaths of the lower states of existence, occasion a suspension of memory, and conscious. ness of self identity.”
I saw yon orb, yon source of light,
Give to this world its newborn ray,
The glories of prime val day;
From Fate releas’d, no more to creep
To dread the billows' angry swell,
How sweetly blooin'd her vernal day!
Traced laughing Pleasure's devious way:
Lured by thy glare, insidious Pride,
Call’d, unobey’d, in lays of love;
Whilst fearless of an anger'd God,
How felt this world my slaughtering hand !
How stream'd the blood from pole to pole!
Spurn’d from its light my reptile soul,
When raving in the madden'd Hound,
Oh racking conscience! 'twas thy sting ! 'Twas known to thee, when erst a king,
How far beyond what tongue can tell, I fuelI'd high the flames of hell; And, on a Rebel's throne, scoff?d at the Almighty's will.
Thro’ slow gradations up I came,
I cropp'd the meads a Lambkin tame;
Who can thy depth, Eternal Mercy! scan?
From death on wings of rapture borne,
The sportsman heard my joyful sound;
Where still the bardic song remains,
I strove to combat baneful strife
I walk'd the thorny roads of life;
She struck me with her poison'd spear;
Yet, arm’d with suff'ring fortitude,
And, penitent, for ancient pride,
Revived in yon supernal clime,
The joys of triumph tuned my song;
I join'd the bright angelic throng;
What breathed the soul of Liberty,
THE DRUID'S GROVE.
From Lucan's Pharsalia, translated by Rowe.
Not far away, for ages past had stood An old un violated sacred wood, Whose gloomy boughs, thick interwoven, made A chilly, cheerless, everlasting shade; There, nor the rustic gods, nor satyrs sport, Nor fawns and sylvans with the nymphs resort, But barb’rous priests some dreadful Pow'r adore, And lustrate ev'ry tree with human gore. If mysteries in times of old received, And pious ancientry be yet believed, There, nor the feather'd songster builds his nest, Nor lonely dens conceal the savage beast; There no tempestuous winds presume to fly, E’en lightnings glance aloof, and shoot obliquely by.
No wanton breezes toss the dancing leaves,
Oft, as fame tells, the earth in sounds of woe
With sparkling fames the trees unburning shine,
The pious worshippers approach not near,
THE DRUIDIC TEMPLE.
From Mason's Caractacus.
Here, Romans, pause, and let the eye of wonder Gaze on the solemn scene; behold yon oak, How stern he frowns, and with his broad brown arms Chills the pale plain beneath him: mark yon altar, The dark stream brawling round its rugged base ;-These cliffs—these yawning caverns.- this wide circus, Skirted with unhewn stone. They awe my soul, As if the very genius of the place Himself appear'd, and with terrific tread Stalk'd thro' his drear domain. Surely there is a hidden power, that reigns 'Mid the lone majesty of untamed nature, Controuling sober reason; tell me else, Why do these haunts of barb'rous superstition O'ercome me thus ? I scorn them, yet they awe me: Explain this scene of horror.
Daring Roman, Know that thou stand'st on consecrated ground: