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Who is the honest man ? He that doth still and strongly good pursue, To God, his neighbour and himself most true :

Whom neither force nor fawning can Unpin or wrench from giving all their due.

Whose honesty is not
So loose or easy that a ruffling wind
Can blow away, or, glittering, look it blind :

Who rides his sure and
While the world now rides by, now lags behind.

easy trot

Who, when great trials come,
Nor seeks, nor shuns them; but doth calmly stay,
Til he the thing and the example weigh;

All being brought into a sum,
What place or person calls for, he doth pay.

Whom none can work or woo To use in any thing, a trick or sleight; For, above all things, he abhors deceit :

His words and works and fashion too All of a piece, and all are clear and straight.

Wbo never melts or thaws
At close temptations; when the day is done,
His goodness sets not, but in dark can run :

The sun to others writeth laws,
And is their virtue; virtue is his sun...

Who, when he is to treat With sick folks, women, those whom passions sway, Allows for that and keeps his constant way:

Whom others' faults do not defeat; But thougb men fail him yet



doth play.

Whom nothing can procure,
When the world runs bias, from his will
To writhe his limbs, and share, not mend the ill.

This is the marksman safe and sure,
Who still is right, and prays to be so still.



+ Cease here longer to detain me,
Fondest mother drowned in woe :
Now thy kind caresses pain me,
Morn advances let me go.

See yon orient streak appearing!
Harbinger of endless day;
Hark! a voice the darkness cheering,
Calls my new-born soul away!

Lately launched, a trembling stranger,
On the world's wild boisterous flood;
Pierced with sorrows, tossed with danger,
Gladly I return to God.


my cries shall cease to grieve thee, Now

my trembling heart find rest; Kinder arms than thine receive me, Softer pillow than thy breast.

Weep not o'er these eyes that languish,
Upward turning toward their home:
Raptured they'll forget all anguish,
While they wait to see thee come.

There, my mother, pleasures centre-
Weeping, parting, care or woe,
Ne'er our father's house shall enter-
Morn advances let me go.

As through this calm, this holy dawning
Silent glides my parting breath,
To an everlasting morning,
Gently close my eyes in death.

Blessings endless, richest blessings,
Pour their streams upon thy heart !
(Though no language yet possessing,)
Breathes my spirit ere we part.

Yet to leave thee sorrowing rends me,
Though again his voice I hear ;
Rise ! may every grace attend thee ;
Rise! and seek to meet me there.'


On Linden, when the sun was low,
All bloodless lay the untrodden snow ;
And dark as winter was the flow

Of Iser, rolling rapidly.

But Linden saw another sight,
When the drum beat at dead of night,
Commanding fires of death to light

The darkness of the scenery.

By torch and trampet fast arrayed,
Each horseman drew his battle blade,
And furious every charger neighed,

To join the dreadful revelry.

Then shook the hills with thunder riven, Then rushed the steel to battle driven, And louder than the bolts of heaven

Far flashed the red artillery.

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