had not even a vessel to offer him for his perilous voyage, and hear him reply, 'I have, then, no time to lose,'--I cannot, turning from this scene to that before me, bring myself to believe that gentlemen, who differ from the obvious majority of this house, need to rest three nights upon their pillow, before they can arrive at unanimity upon this bill. I cannot but believe, sir, that when we come to the vote, we shall do it with one heart, and that we are now as well prepared, as we shall be on Monday next. We have now met our opponents in the spirit of friendly explanation: we have complied with their wishes--stated--recapitulated; and I fervently trust they are ready to act with us for the honour of our common country. AN ODE TO THE CREATOR OF THE WORLD.-Hughes. HEAR, O heaven, and earth, and seas profound! And let your echoing vaults repeat the sound; Attend her Master's awful name, From whom heaven, earth, and seas, and all the wide creation came. He spoke the great command; and light, When time was taught his infant wings to try, Supreme, Almighty, still the same! 'Tis He, the great inspiring Mind, That animates and moves this universal frame, Beyond the untravelled limits of the sky, He dwells in uncreated day. Without beginning, without end; 't is He, That fills the unmeasured growing orb of vast immensity. What power but his can rule the changeful main, And wake the sleeping storm, or its loud rage restrain? When winds their gathered forces try, And the chafed ocean proudly swells in vain, The summer breeze, the soft refreshing shower, His sovereign orders to fulfil; The shooting flame obeys the eternal will, Launched from his hand, instructed when to kill, Or rive the mountain oak, or blast the unsheltered ground. Yet pleased to bless, indulgent to supply, He, with a father's tender care, Supports the numerous family, That peoples earth, and sea, and air, From nature's giant race, the enormous elephant, Down to the insect worm and creeping ant; From the eagle, sovereign of the sky, THE SOLDIER'S DREAM.-Campbell. OUR bugles sang truce-for the night-cloud had lowered, When reposing that night on my pallet of straw, Methought, from the battle-field's dreadful array, I flew to the pleasant fields traversed so oft In life's morning march, when my bosom was young; I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft, And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers sung. Then pledged we the wine-cup, and fondly I swore From my home and my weeping friends never to part; My little ones kissed me a thousand times o'er, And my wife sobbed aloud in her fulness of heart. Stay, stay with us--rest, thou art weary and worn, The waters slept. Night's silvery veil hung low The reeds bent down the stream: the willow leaves, Forgot the lifting winds; and the long stems, They gathered round him on the fresh green bank, The proud, bright being, who had burst away, The heart that cherished him—for him he poured, Strong supplication, and forgave him there, Before his God, for his deep sinfulness. * * * The pall was settled. He who slept beneath Were floating round the tassels as they swayed To the admitted air, as glossy now As when, in hours of gentle dalliance, bathing His helm was at his feet: his banner, soiled Of David entered, and he gave command, Alas! my noble boy! that thou shouldst die! Thou, who wert made so beautifully fair! That death should settle in thy glorious eye, And leave his stillness in this clustering hair! How could he mark thee for the silent tomb, My proud boy, Absalom! Cold is thy brow, my son! and I am chill, As to my bosom I have tried to press thee. How was I wont to feel my pulses thrill, Like a rich harp-string, yearning to caress thee, And hear thy sweet my father' from these dumb And cold lips, Absalom! The grave hath won thee. I shall hear the gush Of music, and the voices of the young; And life will pass me in the mantling blush, And the dark tresses to the soft winds flung;But thou no more, with thy sweet voice, shalt come To meet me, Absalom! |