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whom they once had served: incense and hymns rose up; but a divine voice came down to them, clear and ringing:
Why did you doubt and mourn? Mountains will fall,—s will disappear,-temples fall to ruins,—but the life of the Gods will breathe where it lists."
MARK this holy chapel well!
The birth-place, this, of William Tell.*
Here first, an infant to her breast,
And kissed the babe, and bless'd the day,
God gave him reverence of laws,
Yet stirring blood in Freedom's cause-
The eye of the hawk, and the fire therein!
To Nature and to Holy Writ
Where flashed and roared the torrent, oft
The straining oar and chamois' chase
He knew not that his chosen hand,
* A celebrated Swiss patriot, who roused his countrymen to throw off the Austrian yoke.
Alas! my child, you only snow
Sin twines itself with every thought,
The fruits, dear child, of Adam's fall
The God to whom you kneel and pray.
His word in many places shows
THERE'S something in a noble boy,
N. P. WILLIS.
His dread of books and love of fun,
And felt its very gladness.
And yet it is not in his play,
When every trace of thought is lost,
His voice he echoed in the hall,
His merry laugh like music thrill,
For, like the wrinkles on my brow,