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 NOTTINGHAM: 
 mi\T£D BY G. STRETTON, LONG ROW. 
 
 1826.
 
 TO 
 
 HIS GRACE f/^^f / JC, 
 
 The DUKE of NEWCASTLE, K.G. 
 
 LORD LIEUTENANT 
 
 OF 
 
 THE COUNTY OF NOTTINGHAM, 
 
 THE FOLLOWING PAGES 
 
 ARE 
 
 (BY HIS GRACE'S PERMISSION) 
 
 MOST RESPECTFULLY 
 
 HIS GRACE'S OBLIGED AND HUMBLE SERVANT, 
 
 THE AUTHOR.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 " Never in the annals of pen, ink, and 
 paper," says an amusing writer in the Literary 
 Magnet, " was there known such an awful 
 period for a young literary debutante ! He is 
 surrounded by a countless multitude, possess- 
 ing talent and pretensions equal with his own, 
 while he is preceded by another countless 
 multitude, possessing talent and pretensions 
 far greater. Like a youthful knight of old, 
 tilting in the melee — if he is victor, his con- 
 quest is hidden by the crowd : if he falls, that 
 crowd tramples him to death."
 
 ii PREFACE. 
 
 At a time, then, like the present, when the 
 
 press teems with the most able works upon 
 
 every subject, it perhaps may create some little 
 
 surprise, that one engaged, as the author is, in 
 
 commercial pursuits, should intrude himself 
 
 upon the notice of the literary world. 
 
 He is well aware, that any thing which he 
 can offer in justification of his undertaking, or 
 in mitigation of the severity of criticism, will 
 avail but little to secure for his work a favour- 
 able reception : by its own merits it must stand 
 or fall. 
 
 Thus much he may, perhaps, be allowed to 
 observe : that several of the pieces contained
 
 PREFACE. iii 
 
 in this, his maiden production, were written at 
 
 an early age ; and the whole of them have 
 
 been composed during those leisure hours, 
 
 which a relaxation from his daily avocations 
 
 afforded. 
 
 His primary objects, in thus employing his 
 leisure, were his own amusement, and the 
 desire of contributing to the pleasure of his 
 friends : at the solicitation of those friends 
 (hacknied as the apology is), this little work is 
 now, with the utmost deference, presented to 
 a candid and discerning public. 
 
 To those generous patrons, who have 
 kindly fostered his undertaking, the author
 
 W PREFACE. 
 
 returns his grateful acknowledgments ; and 
 
 should his effort be so fortunate as to receive 
 the approbation of the wise and good — should 
 he be the means of administering, in the slight- 
 est degree, to the gratification or instruction of 
 a single individual, he will have the satisfac- 
 tion of reflecting, that he has not wholly mis- 
 spent his Leisure Hours. 
 
 Nottingham, June, 1836.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 Thoughts on Death and Judgment 3 
 
 The Inauguration of Saul u 
 
 49 
 
 The Hermit 
 
 Lines on the Death of the Rev. W.Harding 53 
 
 . 57 
 
 Spring 
 
 The Flight of Time 59 
 
 The Spirit of Poesf ^ 
 
 Kenilworth Castle 67 
 
 England my Country 71 
 
 . . , , 75 
 
 Isight 
 
 ... 77 
 To 
 
 The Descent on Sinai 79 
 
 Ashby Castle 8l 
 
 The Mutability of National Glory 89 
 
 111 
 Ambition l ™ 
 
 „ 149
 
 THOUGHTS 
 
 ON 
 
 DEATH AND JUDGMENT. 
 
 " I >ne • > e on death, ami one full fix'd on heaven, 
 
 •• Becomes a mortal." }'oi(rt«. 
 
 Spirit of Song ! come, sit upon my lyre, 
 And guide my yet unpractis'd hands to strike 
 In strains of harmony, the trembling chord. 
 And thou, Almighty Spirit, Paraclete ! 
 Who, on the day of Pentecost, didst shed 
 Thy hallowing graces on the Apostles' hearts, 
 Thou, by whose fire baptiz'd, the Prophets spake, 
 Exalt my thoughts to everlasting themes. 
 Bright Sun of Inspiration ! chase the gloom 
 Of intellectual darkness ; O diffuse 
 Thy beams of glory to direct my steps, 
 And lead the way to W isdom's holy fane ;
 
 4 
 That when Death's ruthless hand shall dash to dust 
 ,My harp, my soul may join th' angelic choirs, 
 To chant such strains as Seraphs love to sing. 
 
 W hen at the mandate of that potent voice, 
 Which call'd this Earth, and all the hosts of light 
 From primitive confusion ; Man arose, 
 In God's similitude, supremely good : 
 The crown of holiness, th' unsullied wreath 
 Of spotless innocence adom'd his brow ; 
 The Lord his guardian, Cherubim his friends, 
 Peace, love, and honour grac'd his happy home ; 
 He drank the waters of celestial bliss, 
 And pluck'd the fruit of immortality. 
 But ah ! this state of purity and joy 
 Fled, like an evanescent morning cloud ; 
 Was transient, as the sparkling drops of dew. 
 Lur'd by the wiles of Hell's apostate prince, 
 (Whose highest joy is Man's eternal woe) 
 From his primeval glory, Adam fell ; 
 Shame, sorrow, desolation spread their sway, 
 And sin's lethiferous poison chill'd his soul : 
 Of misery prolific parent, Sin, 
 Source of destruction, harbinger of death !
 
 5 
 
 Well might Creation tremble; well might shouts 
 Of exaltation shake th' infernal realms ; 
 When boasting Satan told, how he sedue'd 
 The new- formed pair from virtue's paths, to walk 
 In the crook'd ways of sin and disobedience. * 
 
 Sin enter'd in the world — the licjlitnincs blaz'd — 
 The judgment thunders roll'd — and justice pass'd 
 The doom of death on Man's rebellious race. 
 That doom is universal — all have sinn'd, 
 All, all must bow to thy despotic power, 
 Inexorable monarch, lord of fate ! 
 No mortal hand can shake the solid base 
 Of thy dominion ; earthly empires fall ; 
 Thrones sink to dust, and princedoms pass away : 
 But thy vast reign defies the wildest storms 
 
 * " Earth trembled from her entrails, as again 
 " Til pangs, and Nature gave a second groan; 
 •• Skj lower'd, and mattering thunder, some sad drops 
 '• Wept at completing of the mortal sin 
 " Original." Milton's Paradise Lost.—BookO. 
 
 "The Stygian throng 
 " Bent their aspect, and whom they wish'd, beheld 
 •• Tbeii mighty chief return'd ; loud was th' acclaim; 
 " Forth rU8h'd in haste the great consulting peers, 
 " Rais'd from the dark divan, and with like joy 
 
 ■ ' iach'd him." 
 
 Paradise Lost —Hoik 10. 
 
 b2
 
 6 
 
 Of mutability— invincible ! 
 Aye thou wilt hold thy unrejoicing court, 
 Where horror spreads its melancholy gloom, 
 Till Time's swift chariot wheels shall cease to roll, 
 And dread Eternity asserts her sway. 
 
 Each hour proclaims thy conquests, ghastly king ! 
 Stern desolater, thy remorseless arm 
 Is ever rais'd to launch thy fatal shafts, 
 To populate thy drear domain, the grave. 
 The grave — that home of silence, seat of rest ; 
 There the loud dissonance of riot's shouts 
 Is hush'd for ever : there contentions cease : 
 There the tir'd pilgrim, on whose hoary head, 
 Adversity's rude blasts have wreak'd their rage, 
 Forgets his toils, and sinks into repose ; 
 There penury's chill gripe is felt no more ; 
 There tyranny resigns his iron rod ; 
 Grim-visag'd warriors drop the gory lance ; 
 Pride bows his crest, and humbled grandeur stoops. 
 
 All, all on earth is fleeting as a shadow, 
 Inconstant as the ocean's eddying waves ; 
 Has not Jehovah bade his Prophet cry,
 
 All flesh is grass, and like the summer-flower, 
 Which spreads its blooming beauties to the morn, 
 But fades and droops, ere evening shrouds the skies, 
 Man's short-liv'd glory withers and expires ? * 
 Where is the city, through whose splendid walls. 
 The proud Euphrates roll'd its stately streams ? 
 (Those streams where Judah's captive tribes bewail'd 
 Their country's desolation, and their woes :) 
 Once glorious Babylon, whose mighty towers 
 Defy'd the storms of fate, and blasts of time, 
 How is thy pomp abas'd, thy glory fled ! 
 Th' exterminating Angel there has rear'd 
 His dark pavilion ; awful stillness reigns : 
 Save when at intervals the bittern's shriek, 
 The dragon's cry, or lion's midnight roar, 
 Is faintly echoed by those shatter'd piles, 
 Which oft have rung with clamorous bursts of joy. 
 Where the gay mart of nations, wealthy Tyre ? 
 No longer cloth'd with robes of royal might, 
 She sits majestical, " of cities queen," 
 While at the footstool of her princely throne, 
 Contending kingdoms pour their costly wares ; 
 
 * ls;iiah, xl. v. l'i.
 
 8 
 But o'er the cheerless waste in gloomy garh, 
 Her spectre frowns — Phoenicia's pride no more. 
 Paus'd here gaunt desolation in his course, 
 As sated with destruction ? witness Rome, 
 Imperial city — witness fallen Greece ; 
 And thou, too, Salem, by whose sacred walls, 
 Th' Omniscient Saviour dropt compassion's tear, 
 As piercing through the veil of future years, 
 His prescient eye foresaw thy coming doom. 
 O'er many a joyous realm, where plenty smil'd, 
 And grandeur rais'd aloft its glittering spires, 
 Th' Omnipotent, in righteous wrath, has stretch'd 
 " Confusion's line, the stones of emptiness." * 
 
 On voiceless wastes, where moss-clad columns rear 
 Their dusky pillars, vestiges to tell 
 Of former greatness, musing pilgrims oft 
 At that calm hour, when meditation lights 
 Her holy lamp, and silence reigns around, 
 Aghast hear falling o'er the desert heath, 
 Decaying battlements with hideous crash, 
 Thundering aloud, the hollow voice of time, 
 The knell of glory, and the dirge of pomp — 
 * (saiah, x\xiv. v. 11.
 
 9 
 
 So perishable all terrestrial might ! 
 The towering monuments of human pride, 
 Whose splendour seem'd coeval with the Sun, 
 Sink 'neath the spoiler's hand, as sinks the mound 
 Of sliding sand before the raging tide ; 
 While on their ruins, devastation thron'd 
 In sullen triumph, waves his banner high, 
 Stamps vanity on all beneath the Moon, 
 And in the wreck of nations, fall of states, 
 Recites a lecture, audible by all, 
 (Would man but listen) on mortality. 
 
 These are the trophies which destroying time 
 Strews o'er his march exultant ; feeble types 
 Of that last concpiest, when this spacious globe, 
 With yon bright orbs of living fire, which roll 
 Their golden cars through heaven's bespangled vault, 
 Shall hear Destruction's voice, and disappear 
 In one tremendous, desolating blaze. 
 
 O, 'tis an awful, yet a wise employ, 
 To commune with the grave ; for tombs can teach ! 
 Mcthinks the slumbering dead can find a voice, 
 To chide the sons of lolly. Why such toil,
 
 10 
 
 Children of Adam, why such care and strife, 
 To grasp at emptiness, to clasp a shade ? 
 
 Many, whose graves the heedless foot now treads, 
 A few short years ago, were labouring hard 
 Up Glory's steep ascent ; their toiling steps 
 Had well nigh reach'd Ambition's dizzy height ; 
 They heard, or thought they heard, the echoing blast 
 Of trumpet-tongued renown proclaim their deeds 
 To plausive thousands. Sudden as the burst 
 Of tempest's rage, death launch'd his rapid bolt, 
 And dull oblivion sits upon their tombs. 
 " Vain pomp and glory of the world," what are ye ? 
 And what your boasted joys ? Forgotten dreams, 
 Illusive phantoms, air-blown bubbles, sparks 
 That glitter for a moment — then expire. 
 As well might mortal arm essay to rear 
 A stable fabric, on the whirling surge 
 Of Ocean's billows ; as attempt to raise 
 The dome of lasting pleasure, on the waves 
 Of Time's impetuous stream. 
 
 Though man ascend 
 The gilded chariot of imperial power ;
 
 11 
 
 Though cloth'd with majesty, and clad in pomp, 
 Riches and honours wait upon his nod ; 
 Though, like Samaria's monarch in the fight, * 
 He buckle on Precaution's panoply, 
 T' elude the dreaded stroke ; Death's barbed shaft 
 "Will find its way, between his armour's joints, 
 With fatal speed ; the son of splendour sinks, 
 To shroud his prostrate glory in the dust. 
 
 When the dark demons of the storm arise 
 In wild commotion : rending tempests rave : 
 Harsh thunders roll, and lurid lightnings dart 
 Their baleful fires ; the startled billows heave, 
 With madding rage, from Ocean's yawning depths, 
 And fell Despair sits low'ring on the waves ; 
 Pavilion'd 'mid the gloom, triumphant Death 
 In might terrific rides, howls in the blast, 
 And mocks the shipwreck'd seaman's dying groans, -f 
 "When War, wide-wasting, rears his gory crest 
 With desolation plum'd ; and horror far 
 
 * Ahab. 1 Kings, xxii. v. 30. 
 
 + Ponto dos incubat atra; 
 Intoiiui're poli: it ircliiis Hue-it ignibns ether, 
 l'i eaentemqne viris hitentant omnia mortem P Irgtt.
 
 12 
 E\te ids his cheerless empire ; Man's last foe, 
 With reckless fury mounts his pallid horse, 
 To scatter havoc o'er the battle plain. 
 Varied the characters which Death assumes, 
 To act his part in life's eventful drama ; 
 He, Proteus-like, " can change with every change," * 
 Not only rides the rushing whirlwind's wing, 
 Or plants his standard on th' ensanguin'd field 
 Of ruthless carnage ; he not only ccmes, 
 A long-expected, oft-invited guest, 
 To Sorrow's haunt ; where famish'd wretches heave 
 The sigh of dissolution ; to the cell 
 Where Slavery clanks her fetters, and the sons 
 Of Misery pour the plaintive tale of woe, 
 Unheeded to the passing gales of night : 
 But o'er his meagre form, the mantle throws 
 Of dark dissimulation and disguise ; 
 A dvances oft with Pleasure's rose buds crown'd, 
 Breathing contagion o'er the festive bowl ; 
 Like an assassin unsuspected, wears 
 Conceal'd beneath his meretricious garb, 
 The deadly poniard ; and when man is lull'd 
 
 * Omnia transformat sese in miracula reruns, 
 I-neracjuc, bonibilenujuc, feram, fiuviumque lijruentem. J'irgit.
 
 13 
 
 In balmy slumbers on the lap of ease, 
 Indulging dreams of visionary bliss, 
 The monster strikes, and glorying in his might, 
 Gives him and all his projects to the grave. 
 " Man giveth up the ghost, and where is he ?" 
 No longer 'mid the dazzling scenes of joy, 
 The glare of fortune, and the blaze of wealth, 
 He quaffs the rich, intoxicating draughts 
 Of Pleasure's chalice — Folly drops her mask, 
 And Dissipation's gay delusions cease : 
 Darkness his canopy, the dust his bed, 
 He sleeps, the long oblivious sleep of death, 
 Till the last trump shall rouse the dormant dead. 
 
 Shall rouse the dead ? yes, Resurrection's morn 
 Will see them burst the barriers of the grave, 
 And rise to bliss, or sink to endless woe. 
 The dark is light — a ray of gloiy gilds 
 The dreary sepulchre, and Jacob's Star 
 Sheds a bright lustre o'er its ghastly scenes. 
 
 When on the Sinner's head, Jehovah huiTd 
 The curses of his vengeance, through the clouds, 
 Which vcil'd the Throne of Justice, Mercy's rays
 
 14 
 
 Resplendent beam'd — " The woman's seed shall bruise 
 The serpent's liead." 
 
 Ye ransom'd nations, raise 
 Tlie song of gratulation ; list the lay, 
 Which chaunting Seraphim, o'er Bethlehem's field, 
 Hymn'd to their golden harps — Angelic choirs, 
 With whose exulting shouts th' empyrean rang, 
 At Nature's birth, now strike their heavenly lyres, 
 To nobler strains : to celebrate the morn, 
 When scattering far the gloom of Reason's night, 
 The mists of Superstition, and the clouds 
 Of Ignorance and Error, from on high 
 The Sun of Righteousness with glory dawn'd 
 On Earth's bewilder'd regions. 
 
 Veil'd in flesh, 
 The Kino of Heaven, the co-eternal Son 
 Of God Almighty, 'fore whose starry throne, 
 Celestial hierarchies adoring bow d. 
 Ere earth arose from chaos' dark abyss ; 
 Stoop'd from the climes of blessedness, to dwell 
 On this terraqueous globe. To ransom man, 
 He toil'd, he suffer'd, agoniz'd, and died.
 
 15 
 
 Despairing sinner ! lift the streaming eye 
 Of penitential woe, to Calvary's cross, 
 Behold the Lord of Glory writhing there, 
 For thy transgressions; sorrows rack his soul 
 With pangs of human guilt : Creation groans, 
 And Nature drops a sympathetic tear. 
 
 For man he died — for man he rose again — 
 On the third hallowed morn, ere day's bright orb 
 Had from the mountains chas'd the lingering mist, 
 The white-rob'd messengers of light proclaim'd 
 The Lord is risen! He broke the chains of death, 
 And like the powerfid Nazarene of old, 
 When, rising in his might, he bore away 
 The gates of Gaza on his potent arms, * 
 Messiah rose immortal from the tomb, 
 And 'mid the songs of cherub legions bore, 
 Victorious Prince ! the spoils of vanquish 'd Hell. 
 
 Sing to the Lord, for He hath triumph d — He 
 Rescued with might and majesty, the tribes 
 Of captive Israel, from th' oppressive yoke 
 
 • Judges, xvi. v. 3.
 
 16 
 
 Of Egypt's thraldom ; foil'd their haughty foes ; 
 And ope'd a passage to the smiling shores 
 Of fertile Canaan, through the Jordan's waves. 
 But vast, transcendant miracle of love, 
 Mysterious work of wonder ! He, whose word 
 Call'd forth Creation's glories, once expir'd, 
 To save rebellious man : to break the chains 
 Of Sin's inglorious bondage : to reveal 
 A path through Death's dark, melancholy realms, 
 To Heaven's bright courts of holiness and joy. 
 Sing to the Lord, for he hath triumph'd ; yea, 
 Most gloriously he triumph'd. Sing, ye heav'ns, 
 And earth rejoicing shout — let Nature raise, 
 From all her fanes, a universal hymn, 
 To celebrate thy conquests, Lamb of God ! 
 When thou hadst overcome the pangs of death, 
 God of Salvation ! thy victorious arm 
 Unbarr'd the gates of everlasting life 
 To all believers. 
 
 Thron'd where Seraphs chant 
 In glory's holy temple, songs of praise, 
 Immanuel reigns, our great High Priest and King, 
 Till that eventful day, when Heaven shall ope
 
 17 
 Its dazzling vestibules, and stripping off 
 His mediatorial vest, with terrors arm'd, 
 Messiah comes to judgment. 
 
 Far beyond 
 The transient scenes of earth, and earthly pomp, 
 Imagination wings her airy flight 
 To that dread period, when with grandeur clad, 
 The heaven-commissioned angel shall descend, 
 And swear by Him, who lives for evermore, 
 (While all Creation echoes to his voice, 
 As the wild desert to the lion's roar) 
 That Time shall be no longer.* 
 
 Lo ! He comes ! 
 Once the dcspis'd, ignoble Nazarene, 
 The Carpenter of Galilee — He comes ! 
 The King of Glory, Nature's awful Judge; 
 On wings of Cherubim He rides sublime, 
 And Heaven's triumphant hosts proclaim Him near. 
 
 The trump of doom resounds — the thrilling blast 
 Convulses Earth, and shakes the shores of Hell — 
 
 • K. ■. >
 
 18 
 
 The monumental piles are cleft — the graves 
 Yield their avvaken'd tenants — nations rise — 
 Yea, thronging multitudes obey the call, 
 And burst the prison doors of Death's domain, 
 To meet their God. 
 
 The wheels of Nature stand — 
 That mighty arm, which form'd this wond'rous globe, 
 Which rear'd the firmamental pillars high, 
 And sent the stars rejoicing in their course, 
 Is now outstretch 'd, to light the funeral pyre 
 Of all terrestrial thing's. 
 
 The wasting fires 
 Of dissolution rage — the mountains bow 
 Their hoary summits — while each wood-crown'd height, 
 Each frowning rock, and lofty turret 'whehn'd, 
 Beneath the dreadful conflagration sinks. 
 The Sun withdraws his li"ht — the starrv orbs 
 
 o . 
 
 Forsake their glittering spheres to shine no more — 
 The Moon withholds her brightness — darkness rei< r ns : 
 The Earth is swept away — the Heav'n.s depart ; 
 And Desolation's angel makes a pause — 
 A final pause, to view his work complete.
 
 19 
 
 Is this the coming of the Son of Man ? 
 Of Him, who once vouchsafe! to sojourn here, 
 The man of sorrows, intimate with grief? 
 O, how unlike his first elescent, unlike 
 Him, whom the Magi worshipp'el ; Him, who left 
 The choirs of bliss, the glory of his throne, 
 To preach salvation to a guilty world ! 
 
 Where now his bolel elespisers — where his foes, 
 Who set at nought the offers of his grace, 
 "Who scorn the joys of Heaven, and laugh at Hell ? 
 No more shall prosperous Vice exulting raise 
 I lis dauntless front; nor humble Virtue elroop 
 Her head neglected : men shall cease to doubt 
 Christ's power to punish, or his power to save : 
 Then all, yea, e'en his enemies shall bow 
 The knee of adoration, and confess, 
 Like Baal's worshippers on Carmel's mount, 
 The Lord is God, the Lord he is the God. '•■ 
 
 (), then shall Mercy's oft neglected call 
 Ijc heard no more ; but He, who.se frown is death, 
 
 1 King! 1 , xviii. v. 39, 
 C
 
 20 
 Shall seize the lightnings of eternal wrath, 
 And hurl damnation on the sinner's head. 
 
 And are there, who, amid the mighty wreck, 
 And smoking ruins of a falling globe, 
 Can stand secure, and undismay'd can hear 
 Th' Archangel's loud, resuscitating blast ? 
 Yes, from the gloomy caverns of the dead, 
 The just shall start to everlasting life. 
 Like Daniel, in the proud Assyrian's halls, 
 When all around was tumult and dismay, 
 The saint shall stand serene ; * the blazing Heav'ns, 
 The reeling Earth, the rocking Firmament, 
 The falling Stars, and Nature's dying pangs, 
 To him are harbingers of endless rest — 
 Are but the heralds of celestial peace. 
 
 The saints shall rise to glory ; rise to reign, 
 " High in salvation, and the climes of bliss :" f 
 
 Up the voiceless halls 
 
 He moves, nor doth the white and ashen fear 
 That paints all faces, change one line of his. 
 
 MilmaWs Belshaxztr. 
 
 + Paradise Lost, book 11, v. 708.
 
 21 
 There, with the ransom'd multitudes, to swell 
 The sacred chorus of eternal praise. 
 Then joy shall be consummate ; then the shouts 
 Of victory peal thro' Heaven's effulgent dome ; 
 Messiah reigns triumphant ; Satan's hosts 
 Are fully vanquish'd ; Death shall be no more ! 
 And Time, with all his desolating woes, 
 Shall be forgotten in the rapt'rous strains 
 Of glad Eternity's unceasing songs. 
 No night of grief shall close that happy day — 
 No storms of sorrow veil that cloudless sky ; 
 For there the Sun of Righteousness displays 
 His beams, to gild with everlasting light, 
 The bright pavilions of the sons of God. 
 
 Such are the scenes, which Revelation shews 
 
 Beyond the vale of Time ; a heaven, whose joys 
 
 Shall know no end ; a hell, whose pangs no pause. 
 
 Will Man then, still infatuated, dance 
 
 On danger's precipice, and madly brave 
 
 The thunders of Omnipotence — the fires 
 
 Of everlasting woe ? Death's fatal dart 
 
 May now be rais'd to strike — the blow be given ; 
 
 To-morrow's sun may gild bis funeral bier. 
 
 c2
 
 22 
 Then, O, how happy he, whose mind is stay'd 
 On God, the Rock of strength, whose only trust 
 Is plac'd for succour on a Saviour's arm ! * 
 Girt with the heavenly panoply of faith, 
 Let Persecution wave her slaughtering brand — 
 Let dark Distress, in various garbs of grief, 
 Lead on her weeping train ; let Death himself 
 Uplift his threat'ning lance ; he knows no fear : 
 The Lord is his defence — the God of Hosts 
 His never-failing refuge ; let the floods 
 Of Dissolution's flaming deluge toss 
 Their fiery billows ; let the heav'ns be rent ; 
 And thunder sound Creation's funeral knell : 
 Yea, let the whirlwind of Jehovah's wrath 
 Destroy the wicked ; he shall smile in peace ; 
 For He, who weighs the destinies of Man, 
 Shall then bestow the diadem of bliss, 
 And shouting Angels hail his glad approach, 
 To join their choirs, to taste celestial joys — 
 Joys, that shall flourish with unfading bloom. 
 
 * Isaiah xxvi. v. 8.
 
 THE INAUGURATION OF SAUL. 
 
 A POETIC SKETCH. 
 
 " At length the Israelites, weary of having God for their king, desired a 
 king to be set over them, " to judge them like all the nations," thus unde- 
 signedly fulfilling the designs of the Almighty, who had ordained that in 
 the fulness of time, the Messiah should be born of a royal house." 
 
 Home. 
 
 Although Jehovah's wonder-working hand 
 Was oft outstretch 'd to shield Judea's land ; 
 Although his chosen race were wont to prove 
 The frequent tokens of his fostering love : 
 Rebellious Israel still his rule disdain'd, 
 And of their form of government complaint! : 
 They saw, with envious eyes, the pomp which blaz'd 
 In circling rays, where neighbouring monarchs rais'd 
 Their gorgeous thrones: they mark'd the splendid trains, 
 Which led their armies to the battle plains ; 
 And ask'd a king, to lead their bands t<> war ; 
 T' extend their power ; to spread their fame afar ;
 
 24 
 
 To sway the rod of empire ; and to guide 
 The helm of state on Glory's prosperous tide. 
 To Ramah, where Elkanuh's son abode, 
 Th' anointed prophet of the living God, 
 Illustrious Samuel, heaven-instructed sage, 
 Whose eye could scan futurity's dim page — 
 Th' inquiring tribes of Jewish elders came, 
 And urg'd with ill-tim'd zeal their impious claim. 
 With grief, the reverend seer their mad request 
 Heard, and his keen remonstrances exprest : 
 But Israel's stubborn tribes a monarch claim'd, 
 Reckless of all, the man of God exclaim'd. 
 
 Near Samuel's tent, a sacred altar stood, 
 Which oft was lav'd with sacrificial blood ; 
 Whence vows of Piety arose on high, 
 And clouds of incense mounted to the sky ; 
 Here, resting from the busy scenes of life, 
 His sacerdotal offices, the strife 
 Of civil discord, or the battle field, 
 He tasted joys, which earth can never yield. * 
 Here, as he bow'd before the hallow'd shrine, 
 
 * " That peace, which the world cannot give." 
 
 Church of England Liturgy.
 
 25 
 
 He felt an antepast of bliss divine : 
 Jehovah's glory round his altar shone, 
 And Peace descended from th' Eternal's throne ; 
 Some Seraph's hand the veil of Time withdrew, 
 And ope'd celestial visions to his view ; 
 Pourtray'd the transports of the just above, 
 In heaven's bright home of holiness and love. 
 To this blest spot, the prophet now repair'd, 
 And there with awe his holocaust prepar'd, 
 T' invoke the Lord. 
 
 The setting orb of day 
 With beaming glories mark'd his western way, 
 And " twilight grey" along the dusky plain, 
 In " sober liv'ry" clad, led on her train ; 
 Tranquillity maintain'd her sway serene, 
 "While hov'ring Angels sanctity'd the .scene ; 
 Amid the stillness, Samuel's offering bkz'd, 
 And thus the seer devotion's language rais'd : 
 
 ' Eternal God ! before whose throne sublime, 
 ' Archangels worshipp'd, ere the birth of Time ; 
 
 * Maker Omnipotent ! whose kingly power 
 
 * Shall stand unshaken at that awful hour,
 
 26 
 
 When earthly states, and Nature's self expire, 
 Beneath the floods of Dissolution's fire ; 
 Father of mercies ! God of Jacob ! hear : 
 From thine exalted seat, incline thine ear. 
 Oft, Lord, have Israel's tribes thy anger mov'd, 
 Tho' oft indeed thy loving kindness prov'd ; 
 This day again a rash request they bring, 
 And ask that Judah's land may own a king ; 
 Thou, who didst listen to thy servant's prayer, 
 And didst vouchsafe the murmuring host to spare ; 
 Who when th' avenging sword, at thy command, 
 In wrath was rais'd, to scourge a guilty land, 
 Didst still th' atoning supplication hear, 
 And stay Death's Angel in his dread career; 
 God of Sabaoth ! with forgiving eye 
 Regard their errors — hear my humble cry ; 
 And with thy Justice, Lord of Heaven, again 
 Let not the sacred voice of Mercy plead in vain.' 
 
 As thus the seer with holy fervour pray'd, 
 The terrors of his might, the Lord display'd : 
 His awful lightnings blaz'd : his thunder shock'd 
 The spacious firmament — Creation rock'd ; 
 (As when the base of cloud-capt Sinai shook,
 
 21 
 And conscious Nature trembled at his look.) 
 At length the prophet saw, with dread surprise, 
 Bright rays of glory stream along the skies ; 
 Th' Almighty Sovereign bade the tempest cease, 
 The thunder's roar was hush'd, and all was peace. 
 A still, small voice, the solemn silence broke, 
 And from the height of heaven, Jehovah spoke. 
 
 ' Dares Israel, still presumptuous, lift the hand 
 1 Of proud defiance 'gainst their God's command ? 
 ' E'er since the day, when I salvation wrought, 
 
 * And from the house of cruel bondage brought 
 
 * Their captive tribes, have they rebellious prov'd, 
 ' And Baal's impious idol-worship lov'd : 
 
 ' Now Samuel, hearken to the people's voice, 
 1 Grant this deluded race their wilful choice.' 
 
 A pause ensued — again the thunder's roar 
 Peal'd awfully tremendous ; terror bore 
 On high her fiery banners ; o'er heav'n's arch, 
 Majestic grandeur held her dazzling march : 
 As tho' the chariot of the King of Kings 
 Was borne aloft, on flaming Cherubs" wings; 
 
 ^ bile ra<*m" whirlwinds howTd th' Eternal's wrath, 
 
 o o
 
 28 
 And vivid lightnings mark'd his dreadful path. 
 The glorious vision past — Night's lucid queen 
 With chasten'd radiance gilds the sacred scene; 
 The starry hosts bedeck th' empyreal plain : 
 And silence holds her unmolested reign. 
 
 At Samuel's word, the elders now return 'd, 
 Each to his city — till their priest had learn 'cl, 
 Whom God design'd to fill the Jewish throne, 
 Whose sovereign power, their warlike bands should own. 
 
 The rosy curtains of the morn unfold ; 
 (That morn, which Israel panted to behold :) 
 On Mizpeh's plains conven'd, the people wait 
 To meet their prince, the guardian of the state ; 
 With solemn pomp, the hoary seer appears, 
 And these his words, the vast assembly hears : — 
 
 * Children of Abraham, the Lord of Hosts 
 ' Has oft protected our invaded coasts; 
 ' Our tribes from Egypt's land of slaves has led 
 ' With his right arm, and with his mercy fed ; 
 ' Whene'er oppression urg'd its horrent reign, 
 ' God was at hand, his chosen to sustain :
 
 29 
 1 That God ye have rejected — yea, desir'd 
 ' An earthly king, and human laws requir'd ; 
 • Now by your tribes, and families draw near, 
 ' That God's fair choice may manifest appear.' 
 
 The lot is cast, by heaven ordain'd to fall 
 Upon the son of Kish, the valiant Saul. 
 (Him had the prophet, near whose hallow'd home, 
 In search of asses, Saul had chanc'd to roam, 
 At God's command anointed, and declar'd 
 The royal honour for his guest prepar'd.) 
 But who would wish, when deep-ton'd thunders roll, 
 And death-wing'd lightnings fire the trembling pole, 
 When blasting storms Creation's face deform, 
 To launch his vessel 'mid the threat'ning storm ? 
 A throne of peace is but a throne of care, 
 A throne of war's beset with many a snare. 
 Well then mi<rht Said th' exalted seat decline, 
 And seek the crown of empire to resign. 
 
 No longer from the anxious crowd conceal'd, 
 Their king stands forth — the monarch is reveal'd ; 
 In form majestic — dignity and grace 
 Adorn'd his frame, and bcam'd upon li is face ;
 
 30 
 
 Oft had lie brav'd the dangers of the field, 
 
 His arm the martial lance could boldly wield, 
 
 Had oft the spoils of conquest borne away, 
 
 .And robb'd the lion of his trembling prey : 
 
 Around his princely temples, fair renown 
 
 Had girt the frontlet of her starry crown ; 
 
 While unassuming worth, and virtue shed 
 
 A lovely halo round th' anointed head. 
 
 Had Samuel then proclaim'd, with warning voice, 
 
 AYhen gladness bade th' applauding hosts rejoice, 
 
 The sinful deeds, which should hereafter stain 
 
 With spots of infamy, his hated reign — 
 
 How, Hazael-like, would Saul the seer have spurn 'd. 
 
 And from his prophecy, in anger turn'd. * 
 
 Scarce had the shouts of loyalty been heard, 
 Ere DisafFection's gorgon head was rear'd ; 
 Envy and scorn, detested sisters, raise 
 Their hideous fronts to fan sedition's blaze. 
 Thus some their king despise, while some obc\ — 
 The Lord's anointed shap'd his homeward way, 
 Till glory's call should break his short repose, 
 And urge him on to meet his nation's foes. 
 
 ■Z Kings, viii, v. 1:3.
 
 31 
 
 War sounds his clarion : Amnion's well-arm'd band 
 Comes on to desolate Judea's land : 
 Wide wave their crests — a " forest huge of spears," 
 Of burnish'd helms, and glitt'ring shields appears ; 
 While hosts, as countless as the grains of sand, 
 Which lie conceal'd along the sea-wash'd strand ; 
 Or as the stars, which gild yon ebon sphere, 
 Their spreading tents near Jabesh-Gilead rear. 
 The damps of terror o'er the town are shed ; 
 Joy flies, and valour bows its drooping head ; 
 The fearful habitants, opprest with grief, 
 And urg'd to seek for powerful, prompt relief, 
 A mournful embassy to Gibeah send, 
 Beseeching Saul, his regal aid to lend : 
 The sad ambassadors their monarch found, 
 Like Rome's Dictator, cultivating ground. * 
 
 The Spirit of the Lord his soul inspires, 
 A patriot's zeal his glowing bosom fires ; 
 A yoke of kine the wrathful monarch slays, 
 
 • « Cincinnatus— a man who had for some time given up all views of 
 ambition, and retired to his little farm, where the Deputies of the Senate 
 found liini holding the plough, and dressed in the mean attire of a labouring 
 husbandman." Goldsmith.
 
 32 
 And to tli' assembled multitude, displays 
 Their mangled limbs ; exclaiming with a voice 
 Of high authority — ' To him, whose choice 
 ' Shall lead him to desert his country's cause, 
 ' To crouch submissively to foreign laws, 
 ' Shall retributive vengeance be repaid ; 
 ' His flocks and herds shall fall beneath the blade 
 ' Of the destroyer — as these oxen fall 
 ' By my right hand.' — Rous'd by this royal call, 
 A mighty army to his standard prest ; 
 The most inactive now forego their rest ; 
 Youth bursts the bands of pleasure's silken chains, 
 Enfeebled age forgets awhile its pains ; 
 The nation's weal this sacrifice demands ; 
 Zeal fires their hearts, and courage nerves their hands ; 
 Welcome the tent, the sword, the spear, the shield, 
 Welcome the dangers of the battle field ; 
 'Tis Justice calls, she waves her banner high, 
 Say, who shall scorn her spirit-stirring cry ? 
 
 The son of Kish resign'd his shepherd's crook, 
 And in its stead, a martial javelin took ; 
 For peasant's garb assum'd a warrior's vest ; 
 Stern valour brooded o'er his towering crest ;
 
 33 
 
 His sword within his broider'd baldric hung, 
 And o'er his mail, a splendid robe was flung. 
 
 Led by their princely chief, the troops obey'd 
 The call of Liberty ; for fight array 'd, 
 Their rapid march the valiant warriors sped, 
 While sable-vested night her curtains spread. 
 
 Meanwhile the Pagans form'd their warr in£ trains, 
 In " beauteous horror'' camp'd along the plains ; 
 The rites prepar'd : the blood-stain'd altars rais'd 
 To Moloch's idol, human victims blaz'd. 
 No hov'ring Seraphim, whose heavenly lays, 
 Unheard of mortals, hymn Jehovah's praise : 
 No sons of glory, Cherubim divine, 
 Spread their bright pinions o'er the cursed shrine ; 
 But fiends of cruelty, a circle dire, 
 Black Superstition summon'd round the pyre : 
 Exulting furies shriek'd a hideous yell. 
 And scoffing demons wav'd the torch of hell. 
 Their impious orgies o'er : the last faint cry 
 Of immolated infants piere'd the sky ; 
 Th' unhallow'd flames of sacrifice expir'd,
 
 34 
 
 As Amnion's soldiers to their tents retir'd. * 
 There, while the moon diffus'd her silvery beams, 
 And awful stillness reign'd, in fancy's dreams, 
 They fought the coming fight — the conflict won, 
 Thought on the past, their deeds of prowess done ; 
 " And 'neath the lightning of their brandish'd spears," 
 Saw Israel's crouching hosts confess their fears ; 
 Beheld the heav'n -protected kingdom fall, 
 And snatch'd the sceptre from the hand of Saul. 
 For when ambition fires the ardent soul, 
 Let horrors rage— let storms of terror roll, 
 Lur'd by the glare of grandeur's dazzling crown, 
 Urg'd by the plaudits of the world's renown ; 
 Thro' threat'ning foes, the warrior hews his way, 
 To reap the bloody harvest of the fray ; 
 Wades to the dizzy height, thro' seas of gore, 
 Nor stops, till death declares his turmoils o'er. 
 
 Scarce had the ruddy morn with roses pav'd 
 Th' empyreal hills, ere Judah's banners wav'd 
 
 * Moloch was the acknowledged god of the Ammonites, part of whose 
 worship consisted in offering up their helpless infants, as propitiator; 
 sacrifices to their idol deity.
 
 35 
 
 In front of Amnion's camp, where death-like sleep 
 Was still allow'd its silent seat to keep ; 
 Save where some sentry pac'd his lonely round, 
 Or matin trumpeter his bugle wound. * 
 
 The silver trumpets sound ; f the squadrons shout 
 The dreadful dissonance of battle rout 
 Rings thro' the vale : astounding was the clang, 
 As sword on sword, and lance on armour rang. 
 But see, he comes, with wildly horrid air, 
 Like the rous'd lion from his gory lair, 
 Impetuous Nahash ; full of fury's fire : 
 ' Spirit of Amnion's god, our breasts inspire; 
 ' Powers of Destruction ! sit upon our swords; 
 ' On — on to glorious conquest :' — scarce the words 
 Had pass'd his lips, before the deadly blow 
 Of some brave hero laid the tyrant low. 
 
 J 
 
 The heathens fly ; their scatter 'd shields and spears, 
 Uhcir quick. abandon'd tents proclaim their fears; 
 
 * •• So he passed ovei Jordan, and proceeded in marching all tint eight, 
 liirty furlongs, an. I came to Jabesh before Bun.rising. So he fell upon 
 memiei on flu sudden, ind joining battle with them, tiir> slew i great 
 
 aanyoftheA loniti ilso their king Nahash." Jon-. 
 
 * Numbers \. v. 9, 
 D
 
 36 
 
 Where'er the conquerors march, reigns pale dismay, 
 W ith orjant strides, gaunt havoc marks their way : 
 Dying and victors join promiscuous cries ; 
 Groans and triumphant shouts ascend the skies. 
 Full many an eye was clos'd in death's long sleep ; 
 Full many a widow's heart was made to weep : 
 Full many a parent moum'd his children's fate, 
 And many a father bled to serve the State. 
 
 At length with slaughter sated, Judah sheath'd 
 The sword of death ; while Fame her laurels wreath'd, 
 To crown their crested helms. 
 
 Victorious Saul 
 Was now with joy acknowledg'd king by all ; 
 The fickle crowd, inconstant as the wind, 
 To celebrate his prowess then combin'd ; 
 And ask'd that they, who scorn'd his power to save, 
 Should be condemn'd to fill a traitor's grave ; 
 But Mercy pleads, forbid that honours gain'd 
 By valour, should by deeds of blood be stain'd. 
 
 Th' assembled hosts to Gilgal now repair'd : 
 (GhVal— where first the joyous tribes prepar'd
 
 37 
 
 Their sacrificial feasts, when God's command 
 Had ope'd a passage to the promis'd land ; 
 When the majestic streams of Jordan's flood 
 T' admit the ransom'd throng, like mountains stood.) 
 
 It was a goodly sight : their tents o'erspread 
 The spacious plain : the setting sun-beams shed 
 A glorious light along the festal scene, 
 Bright shone their helms, and dazzling was the sheen 
 Of furbish'd spears ; from camp to camp the clang 
 Of trumpet blasts, and vvell-tun'd cymbals rang; 
 Triumphantly the Lion banners wav'd : * 
 And anthems rose to Him, whose arm had sav'd. 
 It was a sight, like that which met the view 
 Of Pethor's seer, and blessings from him drew; j- 
 1 How goodly are thy tents, thou favour'd race ! 
 ' How bless'd, O Jacob, is thy dwelling place ! 
 ' Like verdant vallies, by the river's side ; 
 ' Or gardens blooming with luxuriant pride : 
 ' Thy conquering might, thy foes have oft confest ; 
 ' Thy God hath blest thee, and thou shah be blest.' 
 
 * The banner of Jadafa was a Lion. 
 + Balaam— Numbers xxiv. 
 
 c 2
 
 38 
 Melodious harps, and timbrels' ruder sound, 
 Celestial harmony diftus'd around ; 
 With pious gratitude, their altars blaz'd ; 
 And thankful songs Jehovah's goodness prais'd. 
 
 To God, Eternal King, 
 
 Our fervent vows be given ; 
 Whose praises Angels sing 
 Amid the courts of heaven. 
 To God, the God of glory, raise 
 Hymns of triumph, songs of praise. 
 
 He guides the battle car, 
 
 He sways the wand of peace, 
 He stills the din of war, 
 He bids contentions cease. 
 To God, the God of battles, raise 
 Hymns of triumph, songs of praise. 
 
 By Saul's victorious hand, 
 Hatli He salvation wrought ; 
 
 For Judah's favour'd land, 
 
 The Lord of Hosts hath fought
 
 39 
 To God, the God of Judati, raise 
 Hymns of triumph, songs of praise. 
 
 Proud Amnion " licks the dust,'' 
 His boasted power's o'erthrown ; 
 So perish, Lord, the trust 
 Of all who Thee disown. 
 To God, the God of Vengeance, raise 
 Hymns of triumph, songs of praise. 
 
 Ye sons of Israel, join 
 
 Yowr lays t' extol his name ; 
 Ye virgin troops combine 
 His goodness to proclaim. 
 To God, the God of Mercy, raise 
 Hymns of triumph, songs of praise. 
 
 While holy pleasure beam'd in every eye, 
 
 And gladness reign'd, the hoary priest drew nigh ; 
 
 Ilush'd were the strains of melody and song, 
 
 As thus the Seer address'd the listening throng : — 
 
 ' O Israel, hear ! full seventy rears have shed 
 4 Time's blanching frosts upon my aged head;
 
 40 
 ' In Judah's land I've dwelt e'er since the day, 
 
 * When first my infant lips were taught to pray 
 ' In Shiloh's sacred courts — bear witness now, 
 
 * Has dark injustice ever stain'd my brow ? 
 
 ' Whom have I injur'd, whom have I oppress'd ? 
 
 * Whose ox or ass illegally possess'd ? 
 
 ' To these my solemn questions make reply, 
 
 " My witness is in heaven, my record is on high." 
 
 ' The Lord is witness,' Israel's host proclaim'd, 
 ' That thou art upright.' Then the Seer exclaim'd, 
 ' Children of Jacob, list with sacred awe 
 ' To those amazing acts your fathers saw, 
 ' And which ourselves have seen, when rob'd with might, 
 ' The Lord Jehovah from the glorious height 
 ' Of his sublime abode destroy'd our foes, 
 ' And for our succour deign'd to interpose. 
 
 * When Memphian Pharaoh rais'd Oppression's rod, 
 ' And Israel's tribes the paths of slavery trod, 
 ' He led them forth from Egypt's stubborn land, 
 
 * By his omnipotent, pride-humbling hand ; 
 « And when the sceptred Infidel pursued, 
 
 ' That Goshen's sojourners might be subdued,
 
 41 
 ' God on the chariots of salvation rode, 
 1 The cleaving Ocean's waves a pathway shew'd ; 
 ' The ransom'd hosts securely pass'd along ; 
 ' With furious speed advane'd the martial throng ; 
 ' But o'er the deep, the son of Amram sway'd 
 ' His potent rod ; the rushing sea ohey'd ; 
 
 < The roaring hillows lash'd the trembling shore ; 
 
 < The heathen squadrons sank, to rise no more ! 
 « When pacing o'er the desert's scorching beds, 
 
 « Pale thirst and famine droop'd their fainting heads, 
 « From Horeb's rock, pellucid fountains ran, 
 ' And anorels' food was shower'd on mortal man. 
 ' When blasting war his gory flag unfurl'd, 
 ' Th* Omnipotent his bolts of vengeance hurl'd 
 ' Against his people's foes : their vanquish'd toasts 
 ' Confess'd thy power, triumphant Lord of Hosts ! 
 ' Witness, thou Jericho, whose sinking walls, 
 
 < Whose towering battlements, and splendid halls. 
 ' In one prodigious mass of ruins fell, 
 
 ' When God arose, his enemies to quell. 
 
 < Witness, thou Gibeon, o'er whose lofty height, 
 1 At Joshua's word, the day delay 'd iis flight, 
 
 ' And night's pale queen, o'er Ajalon's low va|e, 
 ' Paus'd, to behold Judea's bands prevail.
 
 42 
 ' Witness, thou Kishon, whose " gore-crimson'd'' waves 
 ' Moan'd mournfully o'er Canaanitish graves, 
 ' When from the clouds, " as from a well-drawn bow,'' 
 ' Th' Eternal stoop'd, the darts of wrath to throw : 
 ' The mighty trembled at the dread display, 
 ' And Jabin's legions own'd th' Almighty's sway. 
 
 ' Shall I enumerate the goodly band 
 ' Of worthy chieftains, who have serv'd our land ? 
 ' Othniel — zealous for his country's good : 
 ' Ehud — whose dagger drank proud Eglon's blood : 
 
 * And Anath's valiant son, whose daring power 
 
 ' Made tyrants fall, and grim Oppression cower ? 
 ' Say, who with more than mortal courage nerv'd 
 
 * Brave Gideon's arm ? Who, but the God he serv'd ? 
 
 * What hand directed Jeptha's battle car, 
 
 ' When fell invasion rang; the blast of war ? 
 
 ' Who strengthen'd lion-slaying Samson's grasp, 
 
 * When Dagon's temple totter'd in his clasp? 
 
 ' On Mizpeh's plains, when Israel's armies held 
 ' A solemn fast — when ye, with fear, beheld 
 
 * Philistia's hosts uplift the hostile lance, 
 
 ' And arm'd with terrors, to the field advance : 
 ' I cried to God, and He, who thron'd on high,
 
 43 
 
 ' Reigns King of Kings, with thunder shook the sky ; 
 ' Wing'd with destruction's fires, his lightning flew, 
 ' And our blaspheming adversaries slew. 
 
 ' Jeshurun's Saviour is a God of might ; 
 < Our guard in peace — -our buckler in the fight ; 
 ' O'er danger's path, thro' sorrow's deepening gloom, 
 ' He guides our steps, and points to bliss to come : 
 ' And tho' the waste be drear, the valley dark, 
 ' Celestial glory shines around our ark. 
 ' Could all the gods, which Egypt's vassals own, 
 ' E'er by their might establish Pharaoh's throne ? 
 ' Did Amnion's deities possess more power, 
 « To succour Nahash in an evil hour ? 
 ' Was God's arm shorten'd, that it could not save ? 
 ' Had He forgotten to defend the brave ? 
 ' Yet, when ye heard the threat'ning voice of war, 
 
 * And mark'd the rattling of his griding car, 
 ' Your unbelieving hearts, with terror weak, 
 
 • Itesolv'd ;i king — an earthly king to seek. 
 
 ' Behold your monarch ! serve the Lord with fear, 
 1 Then peace and joy shall raise their altars here. 
 ' But if ye prove rebellious to the Lord, 
 ' Despise his laws, and scorn his lioly word,
 
 44 
 
 ' Your hlack ingratitude to Nature's king, 
 
 ' Shall on your land, deserv'd destruction bring. 
 
 ' Lift up your eyes — see yonder fertile field, 
 
 ' Its plenteous harvest-fruits prepar'd to yield ; 
 
 ' E'en now, shall Heaven's astounding thunders roar, 
 
 * And from on high, a whelming deluge pour ; * 
 
 ' That ye may know, your wickedness is great, 
 
 ' In wishing Man to guide the helm of State.' 
 
 On lightning's wings the tempest spirits fly ; 
 " Rent is the fleecy mantle of the sky;'* 
 The firmament with signs of horror teems, 
 And storms of rain descend in rushing streams. 
 
 As stands aghast the sinner, round whose head, 
 The low'ring clouds of dark despair are spread ; 
 When conscience, faithful monitor, begins 
 To shew a catalogue of damning sins, 
 To lift the veil, which hides the day of doom, 
 To tell of judgment, and a world to come; 
 
 * This sudden conflict of the elements was calculated to produce a 
 powerful impression on the minds of the Israelites, as, according to 
 Geographers, neither thunder nor rain is known in Judea during the 
 months of harvest.
 
 45 
 
 So struck with dread, the trembling tribes deplore 
 Their past offence ; and Samuel's prayers implore. 
 The Prophet stills the whirlwind's hurrying din, 
 And calms the mental storms which rage within. 
 
 • Fear not, our God is merciful, tho' just ; 
 Worship in holiness ; his wisdom trust ; 
 Confide in Him, eternal Lord of all, 
 And ne'er before an idol altar fall : 
 Then shall the cheering joys of peace abound, 
 Fair plenty reign, and gladness sing around ; 
 Prosperity proclaim our land her own ; 
 And glory here erect her dazzling throne. 
 But if, alas ! ye stray from duty's path, 
 No dews of grace shall fall ; the storms of wrath 
 Shall sweep away your joys with furious howl ; 
 Where Plenty smiles, shall Desolation scowl ; 
 Expell'd from Judah's consecrated plains, 
 In foreign climes, to drag a captive's chains, 
 None shall regard your woes, or heed your vows ; 
 Th' Almighty's curse shall mark your care-worn brows ; 
 And doom your tribes, thro' exile's wearying years, 
 To shed Contrition's unavailing tears. 
 These fertile hills, where happiness prevails,
 
 46 
 
 ' Shall echo to the widow's plaintive wails, 
 
 1 The ruin'd virgin's shrieks, the matron's cries, 
 
 1 While taunting: victors mock affliction's sighs. 
 
 ' Wide-wasting war shall urge his hell-hounds on ; 
 
 ' Triumphant havoc point to glories gone ; 
 
 ' Gaunt devastation spread his ghastly pall, 
 
 ' And one black robe of ruin mantle all.' 
 
 When thus the Seer had spoken, tow'rds the sky 
 In prayer he rais'd Devotion's suppliant eye. 
 
 ' Saviour of all, who put their trust in thee ! 
 ' Omnipotent Protector ! deign to hear 
 ' My humble supplication. Blessed God! 
 ' Who with a word canst form ten thousand worlds, 
 ' Or hurl the mightiest empires of the earth 
 ' To dust and nothingness ; with favour look 
 ' On these assembled tribes, who now desire 
 1 To pay their vows before thy Mercy Seat. 
 ' Should war unfurl his banner — should the bands 
 ' Of some blasphemer march with threatening front, 
 ' O may that arm, which crush 'd th' Egyptian's might, 
 ' And spoil'd Philistia's hosts, be then outstretch 'd
 
 47 
 ' To shield our land : for when with terrors clad, 
 ' Almighty ! Thou arisest in thy wrath, 
 - Who, Lord, can stand before Thee ? who abide 
 « Thy righteous indignation ? Vice, appall'd, 
 ' Shrinks blasted from thy presence ; Nature quakes, 
 
 * And owns with trembling awe her Maker's power. 
 ' Lord of Eternity ! be Thou our help : 
 
 1 God of our fathers ! be thy servants' guide : 
 « And let thy blessings, like the genial dews 
 
 • On Hermon's top, in rich abundance fall 
 
 < On this thine heritage ; that Israel's foes, 
 
 ' And every nation under heaven may know, 
 1 That Thou, Jehovah, Thou art God alone, 
 
 < Mighty to punish — mighty to redeem!'
 
 THE HERMIT. 
 
 -I dreamt 
 
 Of joys perpetual in perpetual change, 
 Of stable pleasures on the tossing wave, 
 Eternal sun.shine in the storms of life ! 
 
 Young- 
 
 The last golden beams of the sun 
 Illumin'djhe clouds of the West ; 
 
 Eve's star its bright march had begun 
 To herald the season of rest. 
 
 Iteclin'd at the mouth of his cell, 
 Divine Meditation's retreat, 
 
 Where virtue and piety dwell, 
 A Hermit had taken his seat. 
 
 His features rude Time had defaced, 
 And wreathed his temples with snow; 
 
 Pale Care's wither'd fingers had traced 
 Deep furrows of grief on his brow.
 
 50 
 When first on the ocean of life, 
 
 Exclaim'd he, I ventur'd to ride, 
 No whirlwind of tronhle or strife 
 
 Howl'd o'er the calm waves of its tide. 
 
 Awhile my gay prospect seem'd fair, 
 Around me Prosperity smil'd, 
 
 And Pleasure, with Syren-like air, 
 Enchanting, my voyage beguil'd. 
 
 Till home by Adversity's stream 
 On rocks of Affliction to fall, 
 
 I found the world's joys but a dream — 
 I found that their sweetness was sail. 
 
 I've seen the brave Hero of war 
 With laurels of victory grac'd ; 
 
 I've seen him dash'd down from his car, 
 And all his proud honours effac'd. 
 
 I've seen Beauty's flourishing flowers, 
 Diffusing their fragrance around ; 
 
 I've sigh'd o'er her desolate bowers — 
 Her roses had droop'd to the ground !
 
 51 
 
 The Glory of Man is as grass, 
 
 Yea, all is unstable below ; 
 His pleasures proclaim, as they pass, 
 
 Disappointment, vexation, and woe. 
 
 But, lo ! 'midst the clouds of the storm, 
 The rainbow of Mercy is seen ; 
 
 Though tempests the skies may deform, 
 Religion illumines the scene. 
 
 'Tis this, which diffuses a blaze 
 
 Of light o'er life's wildering gloom, 
 
 And gilds, with its gladdening rays, 
 The long, dreary night of the tomb. 
 
 Beyond the dark valley of Time, 
 On wings of devotion I soar, 
 
 To blissful Eternity's clime, 
 
 Where sorrow and sighing are o'er. 
 
 There is, for the pilgrims who weep, 
 In those happy regions a rest ; 
 
 Where spirits of holiness sweep 
 
 Their lyres in the choirs of the blest. 
 
 E
 
 52 
 Yes, there, where is bliss without measure, 
 
 A peace which nought e'er shall destroy, 
 They lave in the rivers of pleasure, 
 
 And drink at the fountains of joy.
 
 ON THE DEATH 
 
 OF 
 
 THE REV. W. HARDING, 
 
 Vt ho was drowned wtiile bathing in the River Trent, Jury, 1823. 
 
 Who shall forbid the eye to weep, 
 That saw him, from the ravening deep, 
 
 PluckM like the lion's prey ? 
 For ever bow'd his honour'd head, 
 The spirit in a moment fled, 
 The heart of friendship cold and dead, 
 
 The limbs a wreath of clay. 
 
 Montgomery* 
 
 Ah ! who can hope to rear the stable dome 
 Of lasting bliss, upon the turbid waves 
 
 Of Time's fast. flowing stream ; or fix his home, 
 Where Death's destructive whirlwind ever raves? 
 e2
 
 54 
 
 lieneath whose rage the rose of beauty droops, 
 The pride of manhood falls, and vigour stoops. 
 
 Scarce do the flow'rs of human hope arise, 
 Ere disappointment blasts them in the tomb ; 
 
 Scarce spread their infant blossoms to the skies, 
 Ere Death's rude tempests blight their early bloom 
 
 And Life's illusive pleasures disappear, 
 
 Like phantoms gliding into empty air. 
 
 Methinks I hear, from yonder treacherous flood, 
 A groan proclaim, " Prepare to meet thy God," 
 
 < O pray to Heaven to teach thee what is good, 
 « And seek to tread the path the Saviour trod : 
 
 1 Exalt not, child of dust, thy hopes too high ; 
 
 * Who can declare I AM, and Death defy?' 
 
 Let none presume : for he, who slumbers now 
 In awful stillness, " where the weary rest : " 
 
 A few brief days since bore upon his brow 
 
 The wreath of happiness ; with comforts blest ; 
 
 When all was smiling round, mysterious Heaven ! 
 
 By mortal eye unseen, the blow was given.
 
 55 
 
 But not by mortal eye unwept he fell ; 
 
 Lamented Pastor ! o'er thy sudden doom, 
 Thy mourning flock — thy weeping friends can tell 
 
 What sorrows flow'd — upon thy honour'd tomb, 
 Religion dropt her consecrated tear ; 
 And Virtue's tribute dew'd thy hallow 'd bier. 
 
 Herald of Heaven, how faithfully he ian 
 
 The Christian race ; how zealously he taught 
 
 Those sacred truths, which cheer the soul of man ; 
 How oft his words, with consolation fraught, 
 
 Were wont the balm of mercy to impart, 
 
 And soothe the troubles of the mourner's heart ! 
 
 Servant of God ! thy pious work is done ; 
 
 Nor social joys, nor public worth could stay 
 The hand of Death : thy mortal course is run : 
 
 Thy soul has left its tenement of clay. 
 And wing'd its flight to yon bright realms of love, 
 To sing thanksgivings with the just above. 
 
 A moment's conflict, and the strife was o'er ; 
 
 A moment's pang, and Glory's crown was won :
 
 56 
 
 From earth translated to that happy shore, 
 
 Where Seraphs bow before the great Three-One : 
 Shall then frail man dispute Jehovah's will ? 
 Be hush'd rebellious murmurs, " peace, be still."
 
 SPRING. 
 
 Come, gentle Spring, ethereal mildness, come ! 
 
 Thomson. 
 
 She comes ! she comes ! with roses crown'd, 
 
 In robes' of living green ; 
 Celestial music breathes around, 
 
 And beauty decks the scene. 
 
 She comes ! she comes ! the hills rejoice. 
 
 The verdant vallies sing ; 
 Creation lifts her grateful voice, 
 
 All hail, delightful Spring ! 
 
 Awed by her presence, Winter flies, 
 
 His storms forget to rave ; 
 The Spirit of the Tempest hice 
 In silence to hi- cavi
 
 58 
 Favonian breezes scatter sweets 
 
 Around her bright domain ; 
 Love hails her coming, Pleasure greets 
 
 Her joy-inspiring reign. 
 
 The flowers spring up beneath her tread, 
 Luxuriance clothes the plains ; 
 
 Fair Plenty lifts her smiling head, 
 And Mirth leads on her trains. 
 
 The shepherd's pipe, th? virgin's lyre, 
 The feather'd songsl er's lays, 
 
 The bleating floe 1 and herds, conspire, 
 To celebr; .er praise. 
 
 ure's universal shrine, 
 c clouds of incense rise ; 
 Earth's unnumber'd myriads join 
 The chorus of the skies. 
 
 Let all their varied pow'rs employ, 
 Their choicest offerings bring ; 
 
 And chant, with thankful songs of joy, 
 Thy welcome, lovely Spring I
 
 THE FLIGHT OF TIME. 
 
 The following lines were suggested by hearing the annual midnight peal 
 usher in the Year 1825. 
 
 Tyrant ! he changes every scene. 
 
 While he himself remains the same. 
 
 Neele. 
 
 Hark ! pealing aloud 'midst the stillness of night, 
 
 Yon echoing chimings I hear ; 
 The knell of past hours, they're proclaiming the flight 
 
 And the birth of another short year. 
 
 Yes, Time, cruel spoiler, still urges his race, 
 With the speed of a whirlwind he hies ; 
 
 His fingers the glories of ages deface, 
 And Man's hoasted goodliness dies. 
 
 With arm of destruction he peoples the grave ; 
 
 Before him vast multitudes cower ; 
 lie scatters the mighty — he conquers the brave, 
 
 E'en nations acknowledge his power.
 
 60 
 
 The garlands of heroes, the sceptres of kings, 
 
 Ait snatch 'd by his pitiless hand; 
 Pomp falls by his scythe ; and all earthly-born things 
 
 Await his destroying command. 
 
 A year has past by ; and in that fleeting space, 
 
 How many of peace have been reft ! 
 A year has past by ; and how many a trace 
 
 Of care has pale Misery left ! 
 
 But many there are, who have realiz'd joy, 
 Which once but in prospect appear'd ; 
 
 Be thankful ye favour'd, lest Time should destroy 
 The fabric which pleasure has rear'd. 
 
 For who, among mortals, his destiny knows ? 
 
 What eye coming fortune can see ? 
 Its veil o'er the future, uncertainty throws, 
 
 And none can declare what shall be. 
 
 A year — and the harp of the bard may be dust ; 
 
 The hand that attunes it be chill ; 
 The minstrel by death may be robb'd of his trust, 
 
 And the hearts that he charm'd may grow still.
 
 61 
 
 A year — and the laurels of glory may fade, 
 The flow'rets of fame cease to bloom ; 
 
 The monarch's tiara, the warrior's blade 
 May moulder away in the tomb. 
 
 A year — and again may the children of grief 
 
 The garments of gladness assume : 
 Hope dawn on the scene — and diffusing relief, 
 
 Its sun-shine their path may relume. 
 
 But should to the heirs of affliction, below 
 
 No true consolation be given ; 
 There's solace for sorrow — there's comfort for woe, 
 
 There's rest for the weary, in Heaven. 
 
 Though seasons may vary, and years pass away, 
 The soul o'er their changes shall soar ; 
 
 Shall live, when the beauties of nature decay ; 
 Shall triumph, when Time is no more.
 
 THE SPIRIT OF POESY. 
 
 O, I have been thy lover long, 
 
 Soul-soothing Poesy; 
 And suns to thte eac1 ' sim P le son §> 
 
 With witching ecstacy. Clare. 
 
 Come, sweet Enchantress, heavenly maid 
 
 Thv suppliant's call attend ; 
 In fancy's varied garb array 'd, 
 
 Fair Poesy, descend ! 
 
 Thy voice has charm'd in every age, 
 From Nature's earliest hour ; 
 
 Th' untutor'd savage and the sage 
 Alike confess thy power. 
 
 In court, or camp, or hall, or glen, 
 Thy song can soothe the heart ; 
 
 And to the harass'd souls of men, 
 Consoling joys impart.
 
 64 
 Come ! for I love thee, loudly wake 
 
 Thy rapture-darting lyre ; 
 Come ! Inspiration's language take, 
 
 And plow with sacred fire. 
 
 & 
 
 And hark ! she strikes her silver lute 
 
 In harmony again ; 
 She sings — e'en Discord's sons are mute, 
 
 And listen to the strain. 
 
 The gay, the grave, the rude, the grand, 
 
 The terrihle she loves ; 
 On Alpine heights she takes her stand, 
 
 Or in Elysium roves. 
 
 "When tempests, sweeping o'er the deep, 
 
 Creation's face deform, 
 Her spirit seeks some craggy steep, 
 
 And sings amid the storm. 
 
 When Glory mounts the victor's car, 
 And treads the battle plains ; 
 
 She chants, amid the fray of war, 
 Her spirit-rousing strains.
 
 65 
 Sometimes, amid the shattered piles 
 
 Of fallen pomp, she strays ; 
 She sighs o'er Man's illusive toils, 
 
 As Pity prompts her lays. 
 
 Sometimes she seeks the hallo w'd tomb, 
 Where Valour's hero sleeps ; 
 
 Deplores Ambition's early doom, 
 While humbled greatness weeps. 
 
 But turning oft from deeds of arms, 
 Or Sorrow's mournful trains, 
 
 She tells of love, and beauty's charms, 
 Where bright-eyed Pleasure reigns. 
 
 Or in some calm, sequestered spot, 
 Remote from care and strife, 
 
 She sings, in peasant's lowly cot, 
 The joys of rustic life. 
 
 And now, Religion's holy theme 
 Her highest powers demands ; 
 
 We might her songs, the anthems deem 
 Of Archangclic bands.
 
 G6 
 Sounds so transporting meet our ears, 
 
 Strains so sublime arise ; 
 That rapt Imagination hears 
 
 Th' hosannas of the skies. 
 
 Then, sweet Enchantress, lovely maid ! 
 
 Thy suppliant's call attend ; 
 And now, in fancy's garb array 'd, 
 
 Fair Poesy, descend!
 
 KENILWORTH CASTLE 
 
 The cloud-rapt towers, the gorgeous palaces, 
 The solemn temples, the great globe itself; 
 Yea, all which it inherits shall dissolve, 
 Ami, like the baseless fabric of a vision, 
 Leave not a wreck behind. 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 This once magnificent edifice, which has been rendered famous by the 
 many historical events of which it has been the scene, and an object of 
 interest by the celebrated romance of Kenilworth, from the pen of the Author 
 of Waverley, was built by Geffrey de Clinton, Chamberlain and Treasurer 
 to King Henry I. It was afterwards beautified, and considerably enlarged 
 by Dudley, Earl of Leicester, in the reign of Elizabeth : and from a copy of 
 a survey, taken during the reign of James I. it appears, that the castle con- 
 tained within its walls seven acres of ground : that the parks, chaces, and 
 pleasure grounds extended nineteen or twenty miles over a pleasant 
 country ; " tin- like, both lor strength) state, and pleasure, not being within 
 the realm of England."— Henry, Prince of Wales, purchased the estate of 
 .Sir Robert Dudley) and was succeeded in this property by his brother 
 Charles, who, soon after his accession to the Throne, granted the custody of 
 it to Robert, Earl of Monmouth, Henry, Lord Cany, his eldest son, and 
 Thomas Carey, Esq.; and in their possession it rested till the Common. 
 wealth. During the civil wars, it became a prey to the followers ol 
 
 Cromwell •• !>•• whom ii was stripped "fits beauty ass residence i its woods 
 
 F
 
 68 
 
 uprooted ; its towers dismantled ; and its lake drained." — This once splendid 
 structure has become "a mere heap of picturesque desolation:" it now 
 belongs to the F.arl of Clarendon, to whose ancestors the ruins and estate 
 were granted by Charles II. 
 
 Is this the fain'd castle, which splendour, 
 And majesty mark'd for their own ? 
 When grandeur and royalty dwelt in its halls, 
 And greatness, within its magnificent walls, 
 Erected its glorious throne. 
 
 o 
 
 Is this the bright spot, which hath witness'd 
 The revels of Monarchs and Lords ? 
 When valour was held to be honour's best dower, 
 And Barons, their ample possessions and power, 
 Maintain'd at the point of their swords. 
 
 Is this the gay scene, where Eliza 
 
 Once summon'd the pride of her court ? 
 When Leicester the pomp of his greatness display'd, 
 And Nobles and Beauties, in splendour array 'd, 
 Repair'd to the festive resort. * 
 
 • Alluding to the splendid fete, given at Kenilworth by the Earl of 
 Leicester, to Queen Elizabeth and her Court.
 
 69 
 
 Baronial relic of grandeur ! 
 
 The day of thy glorv hath past : 
 The stillness of death on thy battlements sleeps, 
 Around thy dim turrets the wild ivy creeps, 
 
 And nods to the sioh of the blast. 
 
 fcs 
 
 No more to the sound of the trumpet, 
 The Knights of the Tourney advance; 
 While crowds of spectators look'd on with surprize, 
 And beauty rewarded, with victory's prize, 
 The feats of the sword and the lance. 
 
 Destruction hath prey'd on thy beauty ; 
 And havoc dismantled thy towers ; 
 Stern ruin around thee exultingly stalks, 
 Fell carnage and rapine have ravag'd thy walks, 
 And solitude dwells in thy bowers. 
 
 E'en so shall it be with Creation — 
 
 The trumpet of Doom's-day shall sound : 
 The pillars of heaven shall be riven asunder; 
 The firmament rock with the loud pealing thunder: 
 And earth with its echoes rebound, 
 f 2
 
 70 
 O, then, Desolation triumphant, 
 Shall witness all nature expire : 
 The glory of empires for ever decay, 
 And thrones, dominations, and states pass away, 
 Beneath his devastating fire.
 
 ENGLAND, MY COUNTRY. 
 
 I love thee, O my native Isle. 
 
 Montgomery. 
 
 Rejoice, sons of Britain, rejoice, 
 
 Glad anthems of gratitude raise, 
 To Him, whose all-ruling, omnipotent voice, 
 
 A boundless Creation obeys. 
 
 Time was — when the darkness of error 
 O'ershadow'd our Isle with its gloom ; 
 
 When Tyranny reign'd, and the mandates of terror 
 Inflicted its merciless doom. 
 
 Those ages have past ; they have vanish'd, 
 Like shadows before the bright sun ; 
 
 Religion with joy beheld ignorance banish 'd ; 
 The triumph of Freedom is won.
 
 72 
 
 Britannia struggled — with wonder 
 
 Earth view'd her — resistance seem'd vain ; 
 
 Like the withs upon Samson her bonds burst asunder, 
 For Heaven deign'd her cause to sustain. 
 
 D 
 
 Yes, ours is a fortunate Isle ; 
 
 Prosperity circles our coasts; 
 Our hills with the verdure of Lebanon smile ; 
 
 Our defence is the Lord God of Hosts. 
 
 While War's gory crest has been rear'd, 
 And Treason's dark banner display 'd, 
 
 While often in neighbouring realms, has appear'd 
 Rebellion, with havoc array 'd : 
 
 O'er England, fair Liberty's home, 
 
 The standard of Peace has been waving ; 
 
 Unmov'd as a rock 'mid the billowy foam, 
 She stood, while the whirlwind was raving. 
 
 And O, may the storms of Ambition 
 
 Ne'er desolate Britain's domains ; 
 Nor tempests of Discord, nor blasts of Sedition, 
 
 Devastate her flourishing plains !
 
 7.'. 
 But still from her altars, with joy 
 
 May fires of devotion arise ; 
 And ne'er may the arm of invasion destroy 
 
 Those comforts, which Englishmen prize. 
 
 O Thou, by whose potent decree, 
 
 Kings govern, and Counsellors guide, 
 
 Vouchsafe that our Rulers, directed by Thee, 
 May ever with justice preside ! 
 
 With blessings, our Sovereign crown, 
 
 In righteousness stablish his throne ; 
 With favour, Jehovah ! on Britain look down, 
 
 And never our island disown ! 
 
 Then, tho' Babylon, opulent nation, 
 
 And Tyre from their summits were hurl'd ; 
 
 The Queen of the Ocean shall hold her high station, 
 The envy, the pride of the world.
 
 NIGHT. 
 
 Again is Night's dim canopy unfurl' d, 
 
 The bright-orb'd Moon pursues her radiant march ; 
 Dull silence hovers o'er a slumbering world ; 
 
 And countless stars illume th' empyreal arch. 
 
 How awfully serene the midnight hour ! 
 
 The busy crowd has settled to repose : 
 The dungeon slave forgets Oppression's pow'r ; 
 
 The man of grief remembers not his woes. 
 
 Thus shall it be, when life's brief day is o'er, 
 
 And death's long evening spreads its dismal gloom ; 
 
 "When Virtue's suffering sons shall weep no more, 
 Nor dark Adversity invade the tomb. 
 
 Unheeded then Affliction's tempests sweep ; 
 
 Unheeded then the storms of sorrow rave ; 
 No earthly strife can break that lasting sleep, 
 
 Or chase the stillness of the peaceful grave.
 
 76 
 
 In that dread mansion, Fame's obstreperous blast 
 Is heard no more ; nor " trumpet-tongued" renown 
 
 Invites the chieftain ; all his toils are past ; 
 He pants not, now, for glory's laurel crown. 
 
 And what is glory ? 'tis a meteor light, 
 
 Which for a moment sheds a dazzling blaze ; 
 Soon — soon its splendour sets in endless night, 
 Oblivion's clouds obscure its glittering rays. 
 
 But goodness ever lives ; and like the flow'r, 
 Which droops at eve, and blossoms to the sun ; 
 
 It fades in death, to flourish at that hour, 
 
 When earth dissolves, and Time's fleet race is run 
 
 Soon shall the Morn, attir'd in rosy vest, 
 To scatter Night's involving shades appear ; 
 
 The sleeping multitudes forego their rest ; 
 And rising Nature smiles of gladness wear : 
 
 So when the dawn of an eternal day 
 
 Breaks on the nations ; when amid the roar 
 
 Of mighty thunders, yon bright orbs decay, 
 Shall man awake, and wake to sleep no more !
 
 To 
 
 Earth's a chequer' d scene of sorrow ; 
 
 Life's a state of change and woe : 
 Joy may smile to-day : — to-morrow, 
 
 Disappointment's tears may flow. 
 
 Lady ! by the tear of sadness, 
 That bedims thy weeping eye ; 
 
 By departed days of gladness, 
 Thou this truth canst testify. 
 
 What, although thy love be slighted, 
 Shall despairing grief be thine ? 
 
 Though thy fondest hopes be blighted ; 
 Peace may yet upon thee shine. 
 
 Though that lovely sun be clouded, 
 Which so lately shone so bright; 
 
 Though its brilliant beams be shrouded 
 'Neath the gloom of sorrow's night,
 
 78 
 Hope : — and joy's resplendent morning 
 
 Soon shall chase these clouds away ; 
 Soon with bliss-diffusing dawning, 
 
 Usher in a happy day. 
 
 May the thoughts of vanish 'd pleasures 
 Lead thy views to things above — 
 
 To those soul-transporting treasures, 
 Which no cares can e'er remove. 
 
 Then if thou these feelings cherish, 
 Lady ! will thy lot be blest ; 
 
 Though terrestrial joys may perish, 
 Heavenly peace shall calm thy breast.
 
 THE 
 
 DESCENT ON SINAI. 
 
 The Eternal came down on the wings of the storm ; 
 The heav'ns bow'tT beneath his invisible form ; 
 And the blast of his chiding was heard through the sky; 
 And the universe reel'd at the glance of his eye. 
 
 In robes of the whirlwind, and mantle of flame, 
 To publish his statutes, the Holy One came ; 
 The clouds of the tempest around him were thrown, 
 And Judgment and Justice supported his throne. 
 
 Earth quak'd at his presence: the mountains were rent ; 
 
 Before him, the glory of majesty went : 
 
 A voice from trie height of the firmament hruke, 
 
 In accents of thunder, Omnipotence spoke.
 
 80 
 Creation's foundations were moved at his word :— . 
 They shook at the terrible voice of the Lord ; 
 And the tribes of his chosen ones trembled with awe, 
 As the Mighty Jehovah estabhsh'd his law.
 
 ASHBY CASTLE. 
 
 Imposing must have been the sight, 
 Ere Desolation found thee. 
 
 D. Barton. 
 
 To no place, perhaps, has the author of Waverley attached a greater 
 degree of interest by his productions, than to the town and neighbourhood 
 ofAshby. Its castle and plains are described as the scene of some of the 
 most animated passages in the romance of Ivanhoe, and its celebrated 
 author has admirably displayed his extraordinary talents in his interesting 
 narrative of the chivalrous events, stated to have taken place in its im- 
 mediate vicinity. We are told that the castle, there mentioned, was not the 
 same building, the stately ruins of which interest the modern traveller; 
 manya generation bas passed awaj since its glory was levelled with thedust. 
 The mutilated piles which are now an object of attraction to the passing 
 stranger, are the remains of a noble mansion, erected in the reign of Edward 
 IV. by Sir William, afterwards Lord Hastings, one of the first victims of the 
 bloody tyranny of Gloucester, afterwards Richard III. In the days of its 
 Splendour, this castle was a seat of real old English hospitality; a famous 
 resort of many "f the nobles, and even of royalty itself. Of the numerous 
 proud displays of baronial magnificence which haw i» en witnessed within 
 its walls, perhaps the m ist sumptuous « is the entertainment given in 
 n ition of a visit from Jam's I. This structure has also acquired some 
 little notice upon the pr^r "f bii toi ■ . as one of thi i isoni of the
 
 82 
 
 unfortunate and lovely Mary of Scotland, who was confined within its 
 gloomy towers, when in the custody of the Earl of Huntingdon. In those 
 disastrous times, when rebellion, red with human gore, " cried havoc, and 
 let slip the dogs of war," and exulted in spreading misery and destruction 
 around ; this noble edifice was dismantled by the Parliamentary forces of 
 Cromwell, in 1648. Time has completed what the misguided zeal of party 
 fury began; and its mouldering relics, now towering forth in the frowning 
 majesty of desolation, serve to convey a good idea of the stately mansions 
 of our ancient barons. 
 
 Though proud in strength, Ambition's fabric roars 
 Its lofty turrets ; though its dome appears, 
 In all th' enduring power of pomp sublime, 
 To bid defiance to the blasts of Time ; 
 The towering pyramid, the sumptuous hall, 
 And Pride's aspiring edifice must fall ; 
 The majesty of greatness must decay, 
 And all created glory pass away. 
 
 As 'midst the stillness of declining day, 
 By Ashby's shatter'd castle walls I stray ; 
 Of fallen pomp their turrets seem to preach, 
 I'd hear the lessons, which these ruins teach. 
 Yes, mouldering piles, decaying battlements, 
 Which hna, have brav'd the war of elements,
 
 As on your moss-clad, dim remains I gaze, 
 My soul reverts to scenes of former days ; 
 And fondly listens to the famous story, 
 Which History tells of your departed glory. 
 
 Time was — when here, the noble and the great 
 Held court in all the pageantry of state ; 
 W hen feudal barons swav'd dominion's rod, 
 And crouching vassals own'd their Chieftain's nod. 
 Time was, when here, Devotion's altars blaz'd, 
 The holy fathers of the temple rais'd 
 Their pious hymrre ; these walls have often rung 
 With sacred melody, as mass was sung. 
 Time was — when to the hoary harper's songs 
 These halls re-echoed; when carousing throngs 
 Rais'd clamourous shouts of mirth and revelrv, 
 As minstrels told the feats of chivalry. 
 Time was — when here, amid the dungeon's gloom, 
 The lonely captive mourn 'd his hapless doom : 
 Here, as he dragg'd Oppression's galling chain, 
 He Slgh'd for home, and home's sweet jovs in vain; 
 The scalding tear, which trickled down his cheek, 
 Would oft the sorrows of his soul bespeak.
 
 84 
 Ases have wrought a change : but Time has been, 
 When Ashby's plains were made the festive scene 
 Of tilt and tournament ; and " barons bold" 
 Were wont their jousts, and festivals to hold. 
 Here gallant champions rode : and " ladies bright" 
 Beheld their daring deeds with fond delight. 
 The trumpets sound — the combatants advance 
 In martial pomp — their coursers proudly prance — 
 Their lances couched — the shouting heralds cry 
 " On to the charge :" with lightning speed they fly 
 To deadly strife ; and 'mid the loud acclaim 
 Of wondering crowds, they seek the meed of fame. 
 
 Here lion-hearted Richard, England's King, 
 W'ould oft the gauntlet of defiance fling ; 
 Here Ivanhoe, and many a valiant train 
 Of far-fam'd warriors sought the busy plain : 
 Templars — whose plumes had nodded to the breeze 
 Of Eastern climes ; whose barks had plow'd the seas 
 Of Galilee ; when, at their chief's command, 
 They fought the battles of the Holy Land. 
 
 Here Robin Hood, and Sherwood's " merry men" 
 Have chas'd the deer along the woody glen ;
 
 85 
 
 And wondering rustics heard, at break of morn, 
 The clanging echoes of the Outlaw's horn. 
 Those scenes, like visions of the night, have fled ; 
 Those mighty spirits slumber with the dead : 
 Those splendid halls, where majesty was seen, 
 Have disappear'd as though they ne'er had been. 
 
 Years roll'd away ; and grandeur's sumptuous home 
 Again display 'd the glory of its dome : 
 Its pride hath fallen . Desolation reigns 
 In frowning state, amidst its dark remains. 
 
 Thou faithful champion of young Edward's throne, 
 Ill-fated Hastings ! here thy pomp was shown 
 Till mad ambition hurl'd thee to the tomb, 
 When Glo'ster gave thee to a traitor's doom. 
 From yonder turrets, Scotland's captive queen 
 With mournful eye has gaz'd upon the scene ; 
 V.'lipn weary nature sought the couch of sleep, 
 The Royal beauty oft would wake to weep ; 
 And there unseen by all, save Heav'n, would sigh 
 In bitter anguish, o'er her misery. 
 Here James has revell'd ; hither pomp has hied 
 At pleasure's call, to swell the Monarch's prid 
 
 g2
 
 86 
 
 Mere hospitality ami mirth would meet 
 In joyful bands, the King's approach to greet. 
 Proud grandeur's home, and splendour's gay resort, 
 Here greatness dwelt, and beauty held her court ; 
 Till curs'd Rtbellion rais'd her slauo-hterino brand, 
 And rampant ruin stalk'd throughout the land : 
 Then Desolation drove his gory car, 
 'Midst scenes of carnage, and the shouts of war : 
 Destruction's myrmidons exulting strode, 
 And flush'd with triumph, on to conquest rode. 
 Tlien, Ashby — then, the storms of vengeance broke 
 Around thy battlements ; the spoiler's stroke 
 Dash'd down thy towers ; thy majesty defae'd, 
 And all the glory of thy might effae'd. 
 And now, thy shatter'd piles remain to tell, 
 How greatness flourish'd, and how greatness fell. 
 
 No more the dance shall through these courts be led, 
 Their mirth has ceas'd ; their beautv Ions: has fled : 
 No more these aisles the requiem shall prolong ; 
 No more shall echo to the minstrel's song-. 
 Decaying pile ! the voice of joy is mute 
 Within thy mansions; timbrel, harp, and lute 
 Are heard no more ; thy merriment has past ;
 
 S7 
 Thy glory droop'd beneath destruction's blast : 
 Death swept away the lovely and the brave ; 
 And stillness reigns — the stillness of the grave. 
 Thy pomp has perish 'd ; weeds o'ertop thy walls, 
 And vegetation blooms within thy halls ; 
 Amidst thy crumbling stones, the nettle springs, 
 And round thy towers, the mantling ivy clings: 
 Triumphant ruin here maintains his sway, 
 And frowns in all the sternness of decay. 
 
 Though o'er this fabric, Desolation reigns, 
 Still beauty smiles' on Ashby's fertile plains ; 
 Here Plenty revels ; gladness chants her strains, 
 And jocund Pleasure leads her sprightly trains. 
 
 Hither, as to Bethesda's ancient spring, 
 When troubled by the Angel's sacred wing, 
 The lame and impotent for ease draw near ; 
 To yonder Baths, for comfort they repair. 
 A healing virtue from their waters flows, 
 And health and vigour to the sick bestows. 
 
 Long may these blessings o'er the land be shed ; 
 Prosperity erect her joyful head ;
 
 88 
 Glad Plenty here extend her wide domain, 
 And Pleasure hold her unmolested rei<m ■ 
 Till earth and all its changing scenes are o'er. 
 And mutability is known no more. 

 
 THE 
 
 MUTABILITY OF NATIONAL GLORY. 
 
 Empires die. 
 
 Young. 
 
 The vicissitude to which earthly things are exposed, and 
 the perishable nature of terrestrial glory, are subjects which 
 have claimed the lofty strains of the poet, the subtle rea- 
 soning of the philosopher, and the profound attention of the 
 statesman in every age. And indeed, when we take a retros- 
 pect of the past, and turn over the ample page of history, 
 " rich with the spoils of time;" when we behold the towering 
 monuments of ambition scattered anion" the wild bushes 
 
 D 
 
 of the desert — the once splendid habitations of the mighty 
 crumbling into ruin — the firmest national establishments, 
 and the best labored systems of policy, falling into nothing-
 
 90 
 
 ness ; who can forbear to reflect on the instability of 
 human power, and the mutability of earthly grandeur ? 
 
 Time has witnessed the overthrow of monarchies, 
 once celebrated for their wisdom and power : he has seen 
 those nations, where the sciences first dawned which illu- 
 minated the world, sinking into comparative insignifi- 
 cance : he has subverted the thrones of empires, and though 
 in some instances he may not have reduced them to utter 
 annihilation, he has wrested the rod of dominion from the 
 hands of their rulers, and (as Macbeth has it) " has placed 
 a barren sceptre in their gripe." 
 
 Desolation frowns on those plains, where Plenty once 
 bloomed in lovely fertility ; and the whirlwind of destruc- 
 tion has swept away almost every trace of pristine pomp 
 and beauty. 
 
 Contemplating the scene of devastation which now 
 presents itself to the exploring eye, and reflecting on the 
 dazzling prospect of glory, which former ages beheld ; the 
 mind of the traveller is affected with surprise, and lost in 
 astonishment ; and as he eyes the mouldering rolics of 
 departed greatness, he is ready to exclaim with the Poet —
 
 91 
 
 Is this the scene so desolate and wild, 
 
 Where nohlest arts in bright perfection smiled ? 
 
 Where Commerce emptied all her richest stores, 
 
 The nameless treasures of a thousand shores? 
 
 Is this the scene where Freedom's purest flame, 
 
 Led toiling nations in the path of fame ? 
 
 Their strife has ceased ; their noise has past away ; 
 
 Their very tombs are sinking in decay; 
 
 The sculptured monument, the marble bust 
 
 Descend and mingle with their native dust. * 
 
 In illustrating my remarks, it is not my intention to 
 enter into a detail of those causes, to which politicians 
 are apt to ascribe the decline of empires ; I shall content 
 myself with exemplifying my observations, by contrasting 
 the accounts which historians have given of their ancient 
 splendour, with the testimony of modern travellers, as to 
 their present desolate situation. 
 
 Among the many nations, which once seemed to bid 
 defiance to the .shocks of time, and to glory in the pros- 
 pect of eternal duration, Babylon, the proud metropolis 
 of the Assyrian empire, claimed a pre-eminence : dura- 
 bility appeared to be inscribed upon her lofty towers ; 
 
 * Palmyra, a prize poem by J. H. Bright, of St John's College, Cam- 
 
 bridge.
 
 92 
 
 and immutability stamped upon her mighty fabrics. * 
 Situated on a plain of vast extent, and bisected by the 
 noble river Euphrates, the city is represented by Hero- 
 dotus to have been a perfect square, inclosed by a wall s 
 four hundred and eighty furlongs, or sixty British miles 
 in circumference. This account of its immensity at first 
 sight may almost stagger belief: but our surprise is in 
 some degree weakened, when we consider that the wall, 
 which now protects China from the invasions of the 
 Tartars, " is forty-five feet high, and eighteen feet thick ; 
 and extends for the space of one thousand five hundred 
 miles, over mountains of the steepest altitude, and through 
 vallies of the profoundest depth." Again, when we reflect 
 that Seleucia, founded by Seleucus Nicator, about three 
 hundred years B. C. : Ctesiphon, by Nushirvan in the 
 sixth century : Hellah, a town erected in the tenth cen- 
 tury ; and the modern cities of Bagdad and Bassora, were 
 all partly built of materials, brought from the ruins of 
 Babylon : our scepticism is partially removed ; and we are 
 disposed to receive more favourably those historical ac- 
 counts which might otherwise appear incredible. 
 
 * The principal authorities I have consulted, in the following account 
 of Babylon, are Dean Prideaux, Mr. Rich's memoir, and the Rev. T. Mau- 
 rice's remarks on that memoir.
 
 93 
 
 " Whatever may have been the size of Babylon, I 
 imagine," says Mr. Rich in his memoir, " that its popu- 
 lation bore no proportion to it ; and that it would convey 
 to a modern, the idea of an inclosed district, rather than 
 that of a regular city ; the streets, which led from gate to 
 gate across the area, being no more than roads through 
 cultivated land, over which buildings were distributed in 
 groups or patches." " Quintus Curtius says, that there 
 was pasture and arable land in the inclosure, sufficient to 
 support the population during a long siege." " Xenophon 
 reports, that when Cyrus took Babylon (which event 
 happened in the night), the inhabitants of the opposite 
 quarter of the town were not aware of it, till three hours 
 after sun-rise ; probably owing to the great distance of 
 one cluster of houses from another." 
 
 At certain regular distances on its stupendous walls, 
 watch towers were erected, and each side of the square, 
 inclosing the city, was adorned with twenty- five gates of 
 solid brass ; from each of which a street, fifteen miles 
 long, ran across the city ; which was thus by the crossing 
 of its fifty streets, cut into squares, four furlongs and a 
 half on every side, two miles and a quarter hi compass. 
 In the centre of each of the grand divisions of the city.
 
 94 
 formed by the flowing of the Euphrates from North to 
 South, a public fabric was erected. In the eastern divi- 
 sion, stood the temple of Belus, upon whose shrine, the 
 costly sacrifices of the Chaldean sages were continually 
 burning. This wonderful structure was a square pile, on 
 each side of the extent of two furlongs ; the tower erected 
 in its centre was a furlong in breadth, and as much in 
 height; and on this as a base, seven other lofty towers were 
 raised in regular succession ; and the whole was crowned, 
 according to Diodorus, with a brazen statue of the God 
 Belus, forty feet high. 
 
 Ancient and modern authors support the hypothesis, 
 that the high tower, in the centre of the area of this tem- 
 ple, was the tower of Babel, or at least the remains of that 
 astonishing structure. " It was personally visited," says 
 the writer before cited, " in its decaying grandeur, after 
 it had been plundered and defaced by Xerxes, by Hero- 
 dotus four hundred years before the Christian aera.'' " It 
 was viewed with astonishment, even in that decayed state, 
 by the captains of Alexander, who designed to restore it 
 to its former splendour ; but Strabo, on a survey of these 
 ruins, affirms that ten thousand men would not be able in 
 two months to have removed even the rubbish ; and
 
 95 
 Alexander's subsequent death put an end to the project." 
 " Sir Walter Raleigh, in his history of the world, cites an 
 obsolete author, to prove that the tower in question was 
 forty-six years in building, which, as he observes, to make 
 sound foundations for such a pile, in the low and marshy 
 plains of Sliinar, seemed requisite." 
 
 In the grand western division of the city, the royal . 
 palace, intended also as a citadel, reared its lofty and well- 
 fortified turrets. This splendid edifice was erected on an 
 area, a mile and a half square, and was surrounded with 
 three vast circular walls, which were ornamented with 
 sculptured animals, resembling life, richly painted in their 
 natural colours, on the bricks of which they were com- 
 posed, and afterwards burnt in. This princely mansion 
 had often witnessed the magnificent display of Assyrian 
 greatness ; and here, amidst the glare of royalty, the 
 pomp of power, the revelry of mirth, and the blandish- 
 ments of beauty, the impious Belshazzar was holding his 
 festive court, when the mysterious hand-writing, on the 
 palace wall, proclaimed the approaching downfall of his 
 glory. 
 
 Such was the mighty Babvlon ; faint and imperfect
 
 96 
 indeed is the sketch, but it may serve to convey some 
 idea of the magnitude and splendour of that once superb 
 metropolis. 
 
 O thou vast Babylon ! what mighty baud 
 
 Created thee, and spread thee o'er the plain, 
 
 Capacious as a world ; and girt thee round 
 
 With high-tower'd walls, and bound thy gates with brass; 
 
 And taught th' indignant river to endure 
 
 Thy bridge of cedar and of palin, high hung 
 
 Upon its marble piers ? What voice proclaim'd, 
 
 Amid the silence of the sands, " Arise, 
 
 And be earth's wonder ?" 
 
 Milman. 
 
 Not only are our astonishment and admiration ex- 
 cited by the consideration of Babylon's splendour ; the 
 scientific advancement of its inhabitants has some claim 
 upon our notice. Chaldea was the cradle, if I may so 
 speak, in which the infant science of Astronomy was 
 nursed. Here, soaring on the eagle wings of contempla- 
 tion, these sages of antiquity were wont to read the mystic 
 language of the skies ; and as a proof of their progress in 
 this sublime study, it may be mentioned, that Pythagoras, 
 the celebrated Grecian philosopher, " learned arithmetic 
 from the Phenicians ; theology from the Persians ; o c >,,- 
 metry from the Egyptians; and astronomy from the Chal- 
 deans."
 
 97 
 This is far from being the only science in which this 
 eminent people excelled ; for the Rev. T. Maurice re- 
 marks, that the paintings with which the walls of their 
 palaces and other splendid edifices were ornamented, may 
 be considered as nearly the earliest specimen of enamelling 
 on record. Indeed it was scarcely possible, as the Rev. 
 author observes, for a nation so well practised in the 
 burning of bricks, even to a vitreous hardness, to have 
 been ignorant of this art ; and that they could also 
 engrave upon them, is evident from the characters sculp- 
 tured upon those that have been dug up and brought to 
 Europe ; many of which are preserved in the British 
 Museum. Of their skill in the fabrication of images, and 
 their advance in metallurgic science, the hundred gates of 
 brass, with which the city was fortified, and the golden 
 statues and utensils, that ornamented the temple of Belus, 
 arc sufficient proofs. It must also be evident, that they 
 were intimately acquainted with chemistry ; which their 
 extreme devotion to fire worship promoted in all its 
 branches. It may be further remarked, that they attained 
 to a great proficiency in imprinting argillaceous and other 
 substances with colours ; and their country abounded with 
 the richest materials, from which might be extracted the 
 most beautiful dyes. In confirmation of this, we are told,
 
 98 
 
 that when Alexander took Susa, he found five thousand 
 quintals of Hermione purple, the colour of which was as 
 fresh and heautiful as if just come from the dyer ; although 
 they had heen hoarded hy ' Persian sovereigns, for the 
 space of one hundred and ninety years. The splendour of 
 their vestments was indeed proverbial among the ancients ; 
 and when C'ato was presented with a Babylonish gar- 
 ment, he refused to accept it ; alleging that it was too 
 superb for a philosopher. 
 
 From the few foregoing observations, it must be 
 clearly demonstrated, that the Babylonians were indeed a 
 wonderful people. Yet Babylon has fallen ! the boast of 
 nations — the mother of kingdoms — " the beauty of the 
 Chaldees' excellency" is now no more ; the wasting hand 
 of decay has dashed down her once splendid palaces ; the 
 fires of destruction have scathed her aspiring turrets ; 
 and the ploughshare of desolation has levelled her with 
 the dust ! 
 
 Upwards of two thousand years have rolled away, 
 since the victorious Cyrus gave the death-blow to the 
 Assyrian dynasty. Upon the subsequent transferring of 
 the seat of government to Susa, the embankment, which
 
 99 
 
 confined the Euphrates to its channel, was suffered to fall 
 into decay ; and as that mighty river annually overflowed 
 its banks, during the Summer solstice, owing to the melt- 
 ing of the snow on the mountains of Armenia, all the 
 flat country of Mesopotamia and Babylonia was inundated 
 by its torrents ; consequently, when the erection which 
 restrained its current in passing through the city, was 
 broken down, its impetuous streams swept away many of 
 the buildings, and converted the once habitable plain into 
 one vast morass. 
 
 This may, in some degree, account for the difficulty 
 which geographers encounter, in ascertaining the site of 
 many of its considerable edifices. Of those stupendous 
 walls, which were once numbered among the wonders of 
 the world, wc are assured by the testimony of various 
 travellers, not a single vestige is to be perceived. Of its 
 far-famed hanging gardens, not a trace is to be seen ; if 
 we except one solitary tree, called by the natives Athelc, 
 somewhat resembling lignum vita?, which, Mr. Rich in- 
 forms us, Is asserted to have flourished in ancient Babvl . 
 
 So completely has the work of havoc been carried on, 
 
 that we might imagine the Angel of Desolation h;jd heie 
 
 II
 
 100 
 
 resolved to exhibit the most convincing proof of the 
 instability of earthly power, and tbe mutability of national 
 glory. Tbe modern traveller now contemplates that deso- 
 late scene, which was revealed to the seer of Israel, when, 
 standing on the mountains of prophecy, and looking for- 
 ward through the misty valley of time, he beheld the 
 mighty walls of Babylon shaken to their foundations, and 
 the fertile plains of Assyria, swept "with the besom of 
 destruction." Her marts of commerce, and halls of joy 
 have become " a possession of the bittern, and pools of 
 water ;" the beasts of the desert revel unmolested amoncr 
 the relics of her gorgeous palaces ; and a few gigantic 
 heaps of blackening ruins remain to mark the spot, where 
 Babylon once displayed her pomp, to the admiring gaze 
 of surrounding nations. 
 
 From the mouldering remains of Babylonian splen- 
 dour, we will now direct our attention to the desolate 
 summits of a city, no less renowned, the once opulent 
 Tyre. Situated on a small peninsula, on the coast of 
 Phoenicia, by industry and commerce (" those never failing 
 fountains, from which wealth can alone be taught to flow") 
 this celebrated city, in an early age of the world, raised 
 itself to a proud pre-eminence among the nations, and in
 
 101 
 
 the zenith of its glory, contained the most flourishing, 
 opulent, and powerful people in the universe. So just 
 and animated is the description, which the elegant author 
 of Telemachus puts into the mouth of his hero, that no 
 apology need he required to justify its quotation. " I 
 was detained," says he, " at Tyre, a considerable time 
 by contrary winds. During this interval, I acquainted 
 myself with the manners of the Phoenicians ; a people that 
 were become famous through all the known world. I 
 admired the situation «f their city, which is built upon 
 an island in the midst of the sea. The neighbouring 
 coast is rendered extremely delightful, by its uncommon 
 fertility, the exquisite flavour of its fruits, the number of 
 towns and villages, which are almost contiguous to each 
 other, and the excellent temperature of the climate ; it is 
 sheltered by a ridge of mountains, from the burning winds 
 that pass over the southern continent ; and refreshed 
 by the northern breezes that flow from the sea. It is 
 situated at the foot of Libanus, whose head is concealed 
 within the clouds, and hoary with everlasting frost. 
 Torrents of water, mingled with snow, rush from the 
 craggy precipices that surround it; and at a small distance 
 below, is a vast forest of cedars, which appear to be as 
 
 H 2
 
 102 
 ancient, as the earth, ami almost as lofty as the sky. 
 The declivity of the mountain below the forest, is 
 covered with pasture, where innumerable cattle and sheep 
 are continually feeding, among a thousand rivulets of the 
 purest water ; and at the foot of the mountain, below the 
 pastures, the plain has the appearance of a garden, where 
 Spring and Autumn seem to unite their influence, to pro- 
 duce at once both flowers and fruit ; which are never 
 parched by the pestilential heat of the southern blast, nor 
 blighted by the piercing cold of the northern tempest. 
 Near this delightful coast, the island on which Tyre is 
 built, emerges from the sea. The city seems to float 
 upon the waters ; and looks like the sovereign of the 
 deep. It is crowded with merchants of every nation, 
 and its inhabitants are themselves the most eminent 
 merchants in the world." Such is the poetic account 
 given by the son of Ulysses of this highly prosperous 
 nation. 
 
 The Tyrians are represented to have been an ingeni- 
 ous, persevering, and laborious race ; possessing great 
 manual dexterity, and remarkable for temperance and 
 frugality..
 
 103 
 
 History informs us, that the invention of navigation 
 was the peculiar glory of their country ; that this was the 
 daring people who, 
 
 " Erst essayed the deep, 
 
 " And wafted merchandise to realms unknown." 
 
 They must indeed have been expert mariners at a very 
 early period of time; for one thousand years B.C. we find 
 them employed by the Israelitish monarch, in conveying 
 their produce to Jerusalem, to afford materials for the 
 building of the temple. By the extension of their com- 
 merce, they arrived at empire ; their city became the grand 
 emporium of nations : the mart, where innumerable king- 
 doms displayed their costly wares ; and the naval banner 
 of the Tyrians was unfurled, far as the then known billows 
 of the deep could bear along their richly freighted vessels. 
 
 Notwithstanding her fertility ; notwithstanding her 
 maritime power; notwithstanding that rich abundance of 
 treasures, which caused it to be figuratively said of her, 
 that " she heaped up silver as the dust, and fine gold as 
 the mire of the streets ," notwithstanding her unparalleled 
 commercial greatness ; the Almighty declared of her by
 
 104 
 his prophet Ezekfel ; " They shall make a spoil of thy 
 riches, and make a prey of thy merchandise : and they 
 shall break down thy walls, and destroy thy pleasant 
 houses ; and they shall lay thy stones, and thy timber, 
 and thy dust in the midst of the water. — And I will 
 cause the noise oi' thy songs to cease ; and the sound of 
 thy harps shall be no more heard. — And I will make 
 thee like the top of a rock : thou shalt be a place to 
 spread nets upon : thou shalt be built no more : for I 
 the Lord, have spoken it, saith the Lord God." 
 
 The woe-denouncing prediction has been literally ful- 
 filled ; and Tyre has been destined to swell the catalogue 
 of those kingdoms, which have afforded striking memo- 
 rials of the frailty of national prosperity. After sustaining 
 a siege of thirteen years, she was conquered by the 
 Assyrian king, the ambitious Nebuchadnezzar ; but she 
 afterwards recovered her ancient trade and grandeur. 
 Again was she desolated by the invading troops of a 
 victorious Alexander, and again she partially raised her- 
 self from the ruins of her fall. She was taken by the 
 Saracens in A. D. 639 ; was recovered by the Christian 
 Crusaders in 1124; was conquered by the Mamelucs
 
 10a 
 of Egypt, under their Sultan, Alphix, in 1289; and was 
 finally taken from them by Selim, the ninth Emperor of 
 the Turks, in 1516. * 
 
 Since that time, she has fallen into utter decay ; a 
 few miserable cabins, the residence of poor fishermen, are 
 the only vestiges of human habitations, which mark the 
 site of that crowning city, " whose merchants were princes, 
 and whose traffickers were the honourable of the earth." 
 
 View 
 The d ust of Carthage ; desert shores of Nile ; 
 Or Tyre's abandon'd summits, crown'd of old 
 With stately towers ; whose merchants, from their isles, 
 And radiant thrones, assembled in her marts ; 
 V\ hither Arabia, whither Kedar brought 
 Their shaggy goats, their flocks and bleating lambs , 
 Where rich Damascus pil'd his fleeces white, 
 Prepar'd, and thirsty for the double tint, 
 And flowering shuttle. While th' admiring world 
 Crowded her streets : ah ! then the hand of Pride 
 SowM imperceptible his prisonous weed, 
 Which crept destructive up her lofty domes, 
 As ivy creeps around the graceful trunk 
 Of some tall oak. Her lofty domes no more, 
 Not e'en the ruins ol her pump remain , 
 V.t e'en the 'lust they sunk in , by the breath 
 
 * It may be ben objected, thai 1 bavi not sufficient!) distinguished 
 between insular and continental Tyre . foe ■< full explanation <<\ this point, 
 I would refer my readers to Newton's excelJi nl work upon tin Prophecies.
 
 106 
 
 f H the Omnipotent, offended, hurl'd 
 
 Down to the bottom of the stormy deep : 
 
 (July the solitary rock remains, 
 
 Her ancient site; a monument to those, 
 
 Who toil and wealth exchange for sloth and pride. 
 
 Dyer. 
 
 From the sea-beaten ruiks of fallen Tyre, let us now 
 turn the eye of contemplation to the immortal " Seven- 
 hill'tl city," and gaze in imagination upon the decaying 
 remains of greatness, which meet the view, 
 
 " Where Rome's vast ruins darken Tyber's waves." 
 
 It would be superfluous to attempt, in this essay, to 
 trace the rise and progress of that mighty nation, which 
 once instructed mankind by its wisdom, and swayed the 
 sceptre of almost universal dominion : volumes have been 
 written upon the subject by the most able historians, and 
 the glories of its state have been the theme of the poet 
 and the philosopher in every age. There is something, 
 however, in the very mention of Rome, which calls forth 
 a sublime association of ideas ; her dust appears to be 
 consecrated by the most classical recollections of anti- 
 quity : and the sound of her name, like the potent call of 
 a magician, seems to conjure up the spirits of the de- 
 departed, and the renowned of former days start into 
 imaginary existence.
 
 107 
 
 " Forgotten generations live again." 
 
 " Mutius Sctevola, and his burning hand ; Clcrlia, and 
 her aquatic venture ; Virginius, and his ferocious inde- 
 pendence ; Quintus Curtius, and his headlong leap;" Ke- 
 gulus, and his patriotic disinterestedness ; Cato, and his 
 stoical sternness; Pompey, and his dastardly assassination ; 
 Caesar, and his innumerable laurels; Brutus, and his 
 avenging dagger ; Antony, and his inglorious death ; 
 Cicero, and his persuasive elocpjence ; Virgil, and his 
 majestic lyre ; all crowd upon the imagination, and seem 
 to realize the dreams of antiquarian research. 
 
 In the reveries of fancy, we behold admiring multi- 
 tudes listening to the melodious harpings of their bards ; 
 or han"in<r enraptured upon the "lowing harangues of 
 those master spirits, who were wont, 
 
 " Tlr applause of list'ning senates to command." 
 
 Wc see their valiant bands, marching forth to the field of 
 conflict, and unsheathing their swords at the sacred cry of 
 Liberty ; or returning from her warlike expeditions, we 
 view them crowned with the garlands of victory, passing 
 through their streets amidst the salutations of the citizens, 
 in all the pornp of martial splendour ; while the spoils of
 
 108 
 conquered nations and subjugated monarchs graced their 
 triumphal processions. These splendid scenes have long 
 since passed away ; and the mighty actors of them have 
 long since retired from the great theatre of human life. 
 
 " They live but in the tales of other times:" 
 
 The lofty strains of their poets have died away : their 
 orators have lon<j been mute ; their formidable legions no 
 longer unfurl those banners, which the bird of conquest so 
 often delighted to follow ; the sword of victory has fallen 
 from the grasp of their warriors, and has mouldered into 
 dust with the tombs of their heroes ; the illustrious line 
 of demi-gods, who dignified their country, has ceased to 
 exist ; the sceptre of their riders is broken ; and the 
 throne of their glory is demolished. 
 
 " Nothing in Rome," says a recent visitor of the spot, * 
 " re-calls the Jays of her barbarous freedom, or splendid 
 independence. The great majority of nameless, form- 
 less piles, dignified with the epithet of remains, are in fact 
 the ruins of ruins — the remnant of repeated desolations, 
 and incessant injury. Even sites have changed their 
 aspects. The paradise of Latium (the Latium of 
 
 * Laily Morgan.
 
 109 
 
 Virgil and of Pliny) is an infected desert. Lavinium 
 is the tomb of its famished inhabitants ; and the port of 
 Ostium a nest of pestilential caverns, the dens of gallev 
 slaves, and the asylum of murderers. The Capitol, 
 from Virgil to the last-learned school-boy, has been a 
 theme of description, of wonder, and reminiscence ; and 
 never fails to present images of stupendous edifices, in- 
 accessible precipices, of an immense and elevated space, 
 covered with fortresses, temples, oracular fanes, and 
 glittering shrines, triumphal arches, and deified statues. 
 Yet the site of all these miracles, of the Temple of 
 Jupiter, with its hundred steps and hundred pillars, rich 
 with the plunder of a world, the throne of the Thunderer, 
 the accumulated produce of power, wealth, and art, is 
 scarcely larger than the usual space allotted for the 
 lantern-house and dusty garden of a London citizen." 
 Of those haunts of the Graces and Muses, where Horace 
 sang, and Virgil tuned his lyre, we are told by the same 
 writer, " not a wreck, remains.'' The Esquiline hill is 
 dreary and uninhabited. A monk hurrying home to 
 his convent, or a wretch emaciated by disease, begging on 
 the road side, arc all the traces of humanity or life, which 
 animate the desert, where Lydia may have loitered with
 
 no 
 
 Horace in bowers, which promised to be as immortal as 
 their, loves." 
 
 It would be foreign to the purport of this essay, and a 
 task to which I confess myself utterly inadequate, to enter 
 into a description of the various relies of antiquity to be 
 found at Rome. Among other decaying monuments of 
 power, which now stand forth in all the majesty of desola- 
 tion, the Arch of Titus is eminently conspicuous. Erected 
 in commemoration of that conquest, when the walls of 
 the Holy City were razed to their foundations, and the 
 triumphant banners of Pagan Rome floated on the smoking 
 ruins of the Temple of the Most Iliqh ; it still remains, 
 a memento of the fulfilment of prophecy, and of the 
 present dependent state of the scattered tribes of Israel. 
 
 The Mamertine prison, with its horrid dungeons, the 
 scene of so many barbarous tragedies, is still in existence ; 
 and the mind of the beholder recoils with awe, as he 
 thinks of the bloody deeds which have been acted within 
 its gloomy precincts. Here the son of freedom has often 
 fallen by the axe of despotism ; and the hero of many 
 battles has been immolated on the altar of revengeful
 
 Ill 
 
 ambition : here the persecuted martyr lias often attested 
 his belief in the truth of his creed, by bis blood ; here 
 the last incarceration of St. Peter took place ; and it was 
 from this den of horrors, that the intrepid champion of 
 Christianity, the great Apostle of the Gentiles, St. Paul 
 was led forth, to swell the list of those hapless victims, 
 who were sacrificed by the detested Nero. 
 
 In the wide sweep of splendid ruins in the vicinity 
 of the Roman Forum, there is one mouldering fabric, 
 '•' great above all, and beautiful as great." This is the 
 Coliseum; which, "as the authoress before quoted has 
 eloquently observed, " is the last and noblest monument 
 of Roman grandeur, and Roman crime ; erected by the 
 sweat and labour of millions of captives, for the purpose 
 of giving the last touch of degradation to a people, whose 
 flagging spirit, policy sought to re-place by brutal ferocity. 
 The first day's games in this sumptuous butchery, cost 
 the nation eleven millions of "old. The blood of five 
 thousand animals bathed its arena. Man, and his na- 
 tural enemy, the beast of the desert, the conqueror and 
 the conquered writhed in agony together on its ensan- 
 guined floor; and eighty-seven thousand spectators raised 
 their horrid plaudits, while captive warriors were slain,
 
 112 
 
 "To make a Roman holiday." 
 
 " This unrivalled edifice," says the same writer, " lias 
 been, since the period of its destination, the scene of many 
 strange events ; the fortress of the free ; (he citadel of the 
 despotic ; the scaffold of the martyr ; the stage of the 
 buffoon ; the asylum of the assassin ; the shrine of the 
 devout ; and the rendezvous of the dissipated and the 
 gay, from all parts of the world." 
 
 Without pausing to dwell upon the Pantheon, the 
 Vatican, and other monuments of ancient greatness, I 
 shall conclude my remarks upon a nation (which Gold- 
 smith says, rose hy temperance, and fell by luxury) with a 
 passage from that great master of poetical description, 
 Lord Byron : — 
 
 O Rome, my country, city of my soul '. 
 
 The orphans of the heart must turn to thee, 
 
 Lone mother of dead empires, and control 
 
 In their shut breasts, their petty misery. 
 
 What are our woes and sufferance? Come and see 
 
 The cypress, hear the owl, and plod your way. 
 
 O'er steps of broken thrones and temples. Ye, 
 
 Whose agonies are evils of a day. 
 
 A world is at our feet, as fragile as our clay. 
 
 The Niobe of nations! there she stands, 
 Childless and crownless, in her voiceless woe ; 
 An empty urn within her wither'd hands, 
 Whose holy dust was scattered long ago :
 
 113 
 
 The Scipios' tomb contains no ashes now, 
 
 The very sepulchres lie tenantless 
 
 Of their heroic dwellers; Jost thou flow, 
 
 Old Tiber, through a marble wilderness ? 
 
 Rise, With thy yellow waves, and mantle her distress. 
 
 The Goth, the Christian, Time, War, Flood, and Fire, 
 
 Have dealt upon the seven.hill'd city's pride ; 
 
 She saw her glories, star by star expire, 
 
 And up the steep, barbarian nionarchs ride. 
 
 Where the car climb'd the capitol ; far and wide, 
 
 Temple and tower went down, nor left a site ; 
 
 Chaos of ruins ! who shall trace the void, 
 
 O'er the dim fragments cast a lunar light, 
 
 And say, * here was or is," where all is doubly night? 
 
 Did the subject require further illustration, I might 
 dwell on the destruction of a Carthage and a Troy ; I 
 mioht allude to the overthrow of a Nineveh ; I might 
 
 O 
 
 contemplate the desolation of Jerusalem ; I might descant 
 on the faded glories of Greece ; and learn the lessons of 
 vicissitude among the shattered piles of Palmyra. But 
 enough, I think, has been said to show the revolutions to 
 which even empires are subject, and the mutability of 
 national glory. We have seen the insufficiency of pomp, 
 of splendour, and of high scientific advancement, to secinc 
 a Babylon from decay ; we have seen the most prosperous 
 state of commercial greatness unable to avert the nun of 
 a Tyre ; and we have seen Home, the mighty empress of
 
 114 
 
 the earth, though once exalted to so lofty a pinnacle of 
 power, as almost to defy the storms of desolation, hurled 
 from her imperial throne, and falling hencath the arm of 
 the destrover. 
 
 These monarchies existed for a while in the full vigour 
 of prosperity, and the plenitude of greatness ; ages rolled 
 away ; and they languished with weakness ; the worm of 
 consumption (if I may he allowed the metaphorical ex- 
 pression) fastened on their vitals ; they agonized in the 
 convulsions of expiring glory ; till exhausted by fre- 
 quent attacks, and enervated by increasing debility, thev 
 were as unable to bear up against the fatal progress of 
 decline, as man to avert the stroke of death. 
 
 From the wreck of nations and the crush of states, 
 which we have been contemplating, it may not be altoge- 
 ther irrelevant to turn our attention to a country, which, 
 like her native rocks amidst the tempests of the deep, has 
 stood firm and immoveable, amidst the shocks which have 
 agitated empires, and swept even kingdoms from their 
 base — a country, which has risen from the most degraded 
 state of heathen barbarity to a high refinement of civiliza- 
 tion ; a country, celebrated for arms, arts, and commerce,
 
 115 
 
 and whose greatness has called forth the envy and admira- 
 tion of other nations. Need I say, that the country, to 
 which I allude, is the land of our birth ? that it is, to -use 
 Shakespeare's glowing language — 
 
 This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle, 
 
 This earth of majesty, this seat of Mar.s, 
 This other Eden, demi-paradise, 
 This fortress, built by Nature for herself, 
 Against infe.-tinn ami the hand of war, 
 This happy breed of men. this little world, 
 I -land, bound in with the triumphant sea. 
 Whose rorky shore beats back the envious sie»e 
 Of watery Neptune. 
 
 But while wo with true patriotic feeling exult in the 
 prosperity of Britain, history points to the annals of the 
 past, and seems to remind us of the uncertain duration of 
 national glory. 
 
 Far be it from mo to prognosticate, what Heaven 
 grant, may never take place, the decline of Britain's great- 
 ness : — 
 
 11 For why should we ticipate sorrow, 
 
 P.) throwing the Bowers of the pre-ent aw ly 
 Or gather the black rolling clouds of to. 
 
 1 u durlten the fr neroui sun of to-dft) '" 
 
 I
 
 116 
 
 But the probability of the assumption has, I think, been 
 fairly shown, by him, whose precocious talents have shed 
 a halo of literary glory round the name of Nottingham ; 
 the lamented K. White. After noticing the instability of 
 earthly things, the vanity of human expectations, and 
 briefly alluding to the ruin of empires, he turns his eye 
 upon England, and carrying forward his views to future 
 ages, he sees her in imagination falling before the scythe 
 of desolation, and glowing with all the fervour of poetic 
 enthusiasm, he exclaims — 
 
 Where now is Britain ? Where her laurell'd nam •« , 
 
 Her palaces and halls? Dash'd in the dust. 
 
 Some second Vandal hath redue'd her pride, 
 
 And with one big recoil hath thrown her back 
 
 To primitive barbarity.— Again, 
 
 Through her depopulated vales, the scream 
 
 Of bloody Superstition hollow rings; 
 
 And the scared native to the tempest how!« 
 
 The yell of deprecation.— O'er her marts, 
 
 Her crowded ports, broods Silence, and the cry 
 
 Of the low curlew, and the pensive dash 
 
 Of distant billows, breaks alone the void. 
 
 Even as the savage sits upon the stone, 
 
 That marks where stood her capitols, and hears 
 
 The bittern booming in the weeds, he shrinks 
 
 From the dismaying solitude.— Her bards 
 
 Sing in a language that hath perished, 
 
 And their wild harps, suspended o"er their graves, 
 
 Si^h to the desert winds a dying strain.
 
 117 
 
 Such is the gloomy picture which presented itself to 
 the eye of the poet, a fiction of fancy, which, I trust, 
 future ages will never see realized. 
 
 " Grim-visaged war hath smoothed his wrinkled 
 front ;" Peace with a lavish hand has scattered her bless- 
 ings around ; Commerce has poured forth its wealthy 
 stores ; and (to borrow a figure from the Sketch Book) Lite- 
 rature has " gone forth into the highways and thorough- 
 fares of life ; has planted bowers by the way-side for the 
 refreshment of the pilgrim and sojourner ; and has estab- 
 lished pure fountains, where the labouring man may turn 
 aside from the dust and heat of the day, and drink of the 
 living streams of knowledge." 
 
 Long may these blessings be experienced by our favour- 
 ed land ; long may we have cause to exult in Britain's 
 prosperity ; and may the edifice of her national glory be 
 erected on so stable a foundation, as to defy the wildest 
 storms of mutability, and be co-existent with Creation 
 itself! 
 
 1 2
 
 AMBITION. 
 
 How idle a boast after all is the immortality of a name ! Time is ever 
 t ilently turning o\ cr his pages ; we are too much engrossed by the story of 
 the present, to think of the characters and anecdotes that gave interest to 
 the past i and each age is a volume thrown aside to be speedily forgotten. 
 The idol of to-day pushes the hero of yesterday out of our recollection ; and 
 will, in turn, be supplanted by his successor to-morrow.— " Our fathers,* 
 says Sir Thos. Brown, " find their graves in our short memories, and sadly 
 tell us how we may be buried in our survivors.'' — History fades into fable; 
 fact becomes clouded wilfc doubt and controversy ; the inscription moulders 
 from the tablet ; the statue falls from the pedestal. Columns, arches, pyra- 
 mids, what are they but heaps of sand ; and their epitaphs, but characters 
 written in the dust !■' What is the security of a tomb, or the perpetuity of an 
 embalmment? The remains of AlexaudcrtheGreathave been scattered to the 
 wind, and his empty sarcophagus is now the mere curiosity of a museum. 
 ****** 
 ****** 
 
 Thus man passes away ; his name perishes from record and recollection j 
 bis history js us a tale tliat is told, and his very monument becomes a ruin. 
 
 The Sketch Book of Geoffrey Crayon- 
 
 Notwithstanding the lectures which history and ex- 
 perience are continually reading on the vanity of earthly 
 fame, the inconstancy of popular applause, and the un-
 
 120 
 satisfying nature of worldly advancement ; there are 
 characters, who are ever willing to sacrifice bodily ease 
 and mental repose ou the shrine of an inordinate ambi- 
 tion. Animated by a love of glory — a desire of conquest, 
 or the prospect of a fancied immortality ; they deem no 
 difficulties too formidable to encounter — no obstacles too 
 insuperable to surmount. A thirst for military renown 
 has led thousands to barter their happiness for the attain- 
 ment of a title among men, or the blood-stained chaplet 
 of the hero. We have seen the mighty ones of the earth 
 marching to empire through the slaughtered hosts of 
 millions of their fellow- creatures; devastation and terror 
 have marked their course ; the conflagration of blazing 
 cities has illuminated their path ; the groans of the dying, 
 and the agonizing cries of despair have resounded througli 
 their tents ; and the sorrows of the fatherless and the 
 widow have served but as further excitements to the pro- 
 secution of their desolating progress. They unsheathe 
 the sword of invasion ; peace and joy retreat before their 
 hated approach ; cultivation withers before their blasting 
 presence ; they hesitate not to revel among the miseries of 
 nations ; and for what ? To acquire a little posthumous 
 reputation, a robe of purple, or a diadem of honour : — a 
 reputation, which must shortly be effaced from human
 
 121 
 
 recollection ; a diadem, which must speedily be saatched 
 from the brow of its elevated wearer. 
 
 How often has the light, which illumines the path of 
 the ambitious, with the vivid, though transient blaze of the 
 meteor, proved a light which shone to bewilder and lured 
 to betray ! How often has the mildew of envy or the 
 cankerworm of disappointment blighted those laurels, 
 which their fond possessor imagined would bloom with 
 almost unfading verdure ! Of the numbers who have set 
 out with eager hope in pursuit of the " bubble reputa- 
 tion," or sought to hew their way to a throne of extended 
 dominion, how many have failed of attaining the promised 
 good ; how many have been unexpectedly stopped in their 
 ardent career ; how many have been destined to " sow 
 the wind, and reap the whirlwind ;" to prove, by their 
 experience, that vicissitude is the lot of mortals ; and that 
 the monuments, which ambition would erect upon the 
 sliding sand of popular applause, are but little calculated 
 to withstand the stormy blasts of desolation ! 
 
 Supposing that fortune smiles on their endeavours ; 
 that they reach the lofty summit of their wishes, the proud 
 pinnacle of human glory ; are not care and anxiety their
 
 199 
 
 inseparable companions? Mistrust, suspicion, and fear 
 their unavoidable attendants? The successful arms of a 
 rival may deprive them of their authority; or should they 
 be permitted to enjoy their hard-earned honours in tran- 
 quillity, Death soon strips them of their temporary 
 grandeur, and teaches them the important truth, that 
 
 " A tittle rule, a little sway, 
 A sunbeam in a Winter's day, 
 Is all the great and mighty have, 
 Between the cradle and the grave." 
 
 It is true ; orators may extol their achievements ; poets 
 may celebrate their deeds ; and posterity may award their 
 monumental statues a niche in the temple of Fame. 
 
 " Can storied urn or animated bust 
 
 Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath ? 
 
 Can Honour's voice provoke the silent dust? 
 Or Flattery sooth the dull, cold ear of death?" 
 
 The praises of the multitude startle not the tenants of 
 the tomb ; the thunders of popular applause disturb not 
 the unbroken stillness of that last retreat. Could the 
 departed heroes of antiquity rise from their sepulchres ; 
 could the spirits of the mighty, who once swayed the fate 
 of nations, start from their mouldering cemeteries ; me-
 
 123 
 thinks that with united voice, they would proclaim ambi- 
 tion, vanity ; fame, a delusion ; and honour, a perplexing 
 vision. 
 
 In the beautiful lines of the devout poet of the night, 
 
 " The mrlaiieholy ghosts of dead renown, 
 
 \\ hisp'ring faint echoes of the world's applause, 
 
 V. ith peniti Dtial aspect, as th. y pass, 
 
 All point at earth, a:id hiss at human pride. 
 
 The wisdom of the wise, and prancings of the great." 
 
 In consulting the biographical records of the past, 
 history bears ample testimony to the truth of these obser- 
 vations. The celebrated Miltiades, after achieving, upon 
 the plains of .Marathon, one of the most splendid victories 
 which Greece could boast, was doomed to receive a most 
 mortifying proof of the fickleness of popularity, in the 
 base ingratitude of the Athenians ; and actually terminated 
 his existence within the walls of a prison. Pausanias, 
 the valiant Lacedemonian, after signally defeating three 
 hundred thousand of the Persians with an army of seventy 
 thousand Greeks, in the memorable battle of Platan ; 
 after desolating the island of Cyprus, in conjunction with 
 Aristidcs and Cimon ; taking possession of the city of 
 Byzantium, and returning home laden with the plunder of
 
 124 
 the vanquished; to further his own aspiring projects, 
 basely offered to deliver up Sparta to Xerxes ; and as the 
 penalty of his ambition, literally expired of cold and hunger 
 in the temple of Minerva, where he had taken refuge from 
 the fury of his countrymen. Manlius, whose determinate 
 bravery was rewarded by the grateful liberality of his 
 country, not content with receiving the honourable meed 
 of his courage, aspired to the sovereignty of Rome ; his 
 ambitious designs were frustrated ; and as an expiation 
 for his offence, he was condemned to be thrown headlong 
 down the Tarpeian Rock. The theatre of his glory 
 became the scene of his infamy ; and he died the death 
 of a traitor in sight of that very Capitol, which his valour 
 had saved. Hannibal, the renowned Carthaginian general, 
 whose matchless exploits were the admiration of his 
 cotemporaries, whose military fame carried terror into the 
 camps of his foes, after conquering Spain, and retaining 
 possession of Italy for sixteen years against the power of 
 the Romans, was at last totally defeated by Scipio at 
 Zama ; became an outcast and a wanderer from the nation 
 which he had so faithfully served ; was reduced to the 
 humiliating condition of throwing himself upon the 
 clemency of foreign princes ; and in the court of the 
 Bithynian king, closed his chequered career by swallow-
 
 125 
 in°f poison, to escape the swords of his implacable 
 
 a 
 
 enemies. 
 
 Passing over the tragical fates of a Cyrus ami a 
 Philip, we have a striking instance of the vanity, the 
 unsatisfying nature of ambition, in the life of Alexander 
 the Great ; of him, who sounded the war-whoop of 
 desolation throu°hout the most flourishing and extended 
 provinces ; who beheld the numerous and powerful hosts 
 of Asia Minor, Egypt, Media, Syria, and Persia, con- 
 quered by his invincible armies ; 
 
 " Who the tiara at his pleasure tore 
 
 From kings of all the then discover'd globe ! 
 
 And cried, forsooth, because his arm was hamper'd, 
 
 And bad not room enough to do its work." 
 
 So inflated was he with the success which attended 
 his designs, that he openly aspired to the character of an 
 immortal, and pretended to establish his claim to divinity : 
 so little did he hesitate to carry on the work of destruction, 
 that he fired the palace of Perscpolis at the instigation of 
 one of his concubines. After ravaging the most fertile 
 kingdoms, and subjugating the most powerful empires, 
 he si'died for other worlds to conquer and to ruin ; but 
 the boasted son of Jupiter Ammon, liad no power to
 
 126 
 
 arrest the arm of Death ; no shield to defend him from 
 his dart ; at a time, when he was indulging dreams of 
 future plorv, when lie was meditating new projects of 
 ambition, and seeking to extend still further the bounds 
 of his dominion, he was prematurely cut off in the flower 
 of his age, by a fever, the effect of excessive intemperance. 
 
 The lessons of disappointed hope and blighted expec- 
 tations may be further learned at the funeral pile of a 
 Pompey, or the tomb of an assassinated Cassar. Pompey, 
 after leading to conquest some of the bravest of the Ro- 
 man troops, and acquiring the most splendid military 
 renown, was vanquished in the battle of Pharsalia, and fled 
 for protection to Ptolemy, king of Egypt, by whose com- 
 mand he was treacherously murdered. His headless body 
 was thrown naked on the sea-shore ; his faithful frced-man. 
 and a veteran, who had fought under his banners, were 
 the only persons who performed the last sad obsequies of 
 this skilful commander. Caesar, the greatest warrior of 
 his day — he, who saw 
 
 " Mankind grow thin by his destructive sword," 
 
 prosecuted his ambitious schemes with such vigour, and 
 gratifyed his insatiable desire of conquest to such an
 
 127 
 
 extent, that lie fought against three millions of enemies 
 during his many campaigns ; made one million prisoners ; 
 strewed the field of battle, and choked the lakes and rivers 
 of the countries through which he passed, with above a 
 million of the slain ; took by assault above eight hundred 
 towns, and triumphed over three hundred nations. After 
 gaining these unprecedented victories, he arrived at the 
 highest honours of the state : he was created perpetual 
 Dictator ; and at a time, when the sun of his glory ap- 
 peared to have reached its meridian ; when, crowned with 
 the laurels of fame, he was reaping the reward of his 
 valour ; while his active mind was conceiving mightier 
 designs, and his ardent spirit was panting after more un- 
 limited authority, a conspiracy was formed against him ; 
 and this conqueror of conquerors fell hy the dagger of 
 Brutus, his most intimate friend. 
 
 Turning from the classic pages of antiquity to the 
 history of our own country, we meet with a remarkable 
 example of " vaulting ambition,'' in the character of 
 Richard the Third. This consummate hypocrite and 
 hlood-thirsiy tyrant scrupled not to violate the sacred 
 rights of justice and humanity, to further his guilty pro- 
 jects; fraud, cruelty, and murder, were the instruments
 
 128 
 
 which he employed to obtain possession of the English 
 Throne. Scarcely, however, had lie grasped the sceptre 
 of royalty, ere the unwelcome intelligence of Richmond's 
 approach, called upon him to defend his crown by the 
 sword. He assembled his forces at Nottingham, and 
 thence marched to the field of Bosworth, where the con- 
 tending armies met ; a rencontre ensued ; Richard was 
 stretched lifeless on the plain, and victory decided in 
 favour of his rival. 
 
 An Alexander and a Ca?sar were both formed to be 
 the wonder of the age in which they lived ; and modern 
 times have beheld a no less astonishing character in the 
 late usurper of the crown of France, the disturber of the 
 repose of Europe, that troubler of the nations, Napoleon 
 Buonaparte. This extraordinary man first came into 
 public notice at the siege of Toulon, where he acted as 
 an engineer, and in that capacity displayed uncommon 
 ability. By his distinguished military talent, he shortly 
 elevated himself to the rank of Commander in Chief .of 
 the French forces; he led forth the most powerful and 
 effective armies to conquest, and was prosecuting his 
 campaign in the East, when English prowess put a check 
 to his daring inroads; and " that General, who had
 
 139 
 gained such proud laurels ou the continent of Europe, 
 was foiled by a handful of British heroes; and slunk 
 away in disgrace from the shores of Egypt, appalled by 
 the thunder of Nelson, and the splendid glory of Sir 
 Sidney Smith." Mortified, but not depressed ; baffled, 
 but not subdued ; his enterprising spirit broke forth in 
 the midst of his disgrace, with wonderful energy : he 
 could not return to Paris, as he had formerly done, in 
 the triumphal chariot of the conqueror, crowned with the 
 garland of victory, and decked with the spoils of empires; 
 but in this reverse of fortune, his boundless ambition pro- 
 jected a scheme, calculated, as he thought, to preserve his 
 glory. By the sophistry of his arguments, the interest of 
 his friends in the council, and the support of his adherents, 
 with whom he had long been a popular idol, he procured 
 the annihilation of the then existing government of France, 
 and the formation of a new Constitution, of which he 
 was elected First Consul. 
 
 ■" Ambition's like a circle od the water, 
 Which never ceases to enlarge itself, 
 Till by broad spreading it disperse to nought." 
 
 No difficulties can damp the powers of exertion, and the 
 ambitious man is ever following some fresh pursuit.
 
 130 
 
 Buonaparte aspired to yet higher honours, and by his 
 great political talents, he was enabled to mount to a 
 dazzling height of splendid dignity, and supreme autho- 
 rity. On the 2d of December, 1804, he was inaugurated 
 on the Imperial throne; and amidst the acclamations of 
 the multitude, was proclaimed Emperor of France ; no 
 circumstance was omitted, which could give eclat to ihe 
 ceremony, and the Sovereign Pontiff of the Romish 
 Church was himself present, to assist in the formalities of 
 the coronation. " Thus by the creative genius of one 
 man, after oceans of human blocd had been spilt in a 
 contest for a Republican Government, which was more 
 sanguinary and tremendous than any the annals of history 
 record ; was the French nation brought bach to its ancient 
 form of government, and a new dynasty established in the 
 person of Napoleon, invested with higher rank and greater 
 power, than any of the monarchs of the house of Bour- 
 bon."* Napoleon's was a reign of blood : his throne 
 was established by iniquity. Kingdoms crouched beneath 
 his iron sway; nations groaned beneath his despotic 
 rigour ; and continental Europe acknowledged the sceptre 
 of his authority. The brilliant scene of his glory was 
 
 * Seymour's History of the Wars.
 
 131 
 
 soon to pass away: in 1814, the victorious armies of 
 the Allied Sovereigns wrested from him his honours ; his 
 laurels were tarnished: the rod of his dominion was 
 shattered ; he was driven from the splendid seat of usurped 
 royalty, and retired to the island of Elba. Here his con- 
 finement was of short duration ; he speedily burst the 
 trammels which fettered him ; and broke forth, like a lion 
 from his den, to revel in other scenes of havoc and blood- 
 shed. The Imperial standard was again erected ; the 
 trumpet of war was sounded ; and thousands again rallied 
 round his banners. The Herculean might of British 
 
 |jfc 
 
 prowess was again called in to oppose his pretensions; 
 and on the memorable 18th of June, 1815, he was 
 totally defeated by the valiant troops of Wellington and 
 Blucher, achieving the decisive victory of Waterloo : a 
 victory which has eclip 1 sed the glory of Cressy, Poicti 
 and Agincourt. 
 
 Thus thwarted in his < . !ikc Themistocl 
 
 old, he surrendered himself into the power of Ms <■ 
 and was indebted to the magnanimity of bis- conqu< 
 for the pr< i of bis life as an exile. 
 
 This astonishing characl i 
 
 Q
 
 132 
 the retributive stroke of Divine Providence : he, who for 
 twenty years had agitated the world with political convul- 
 sions ; who had abased and exalted kings at his pleasure ; 
 was deported to the barren rock of St. Helena, and there 
 terminated his eventful career. 
 
 Here, then, we behold, most strikingly exemplified, 
 the fickleness of popularity, the futility of ambition, the 
 emptiness of all earthly glory. In the lives of the re- 
 nowned individuals whom we have been contemplating, 
 we perceive, that notwithstanding they reached the most 
 pre-eminent state of worldly advancement — notwithstand- 
 ing the celebrity of their deeds, which rendered their 
 names famous throughout the world ; they were prema- 
 turely hurled from their lofty station ; their end was dis- 
 appointment ; untimely death, poison, the dungeon, or 
 the dagger was their portion. 
 
 Supposing, as in the cases of Mahomet and Crom- 
 well, they are permitted to live out all their days in the 
 guilty possession of their blood-bought honours ; their 
 condition is far from enviable : and the glory of their 
 greatness is a poor compensation for that loss of peace, 
 which they are generally doomed to experience.
 
 133 
 
 Oliver Cromwell, who, by his arts of dissimulation, 
 his pretended religious zeal, and the boldness of his 
 enterprizes, raised himself from an obscure situation to one 
 of important authority ; and at length made the scaffold 
 of his monarch his stepping-stone to the throne ; realized 
 none of those bright visions, which dazzled his imagina- 
 tion, when he was wielding the sword of rebellion, and 
 aspiring to a seat of unlimited power. The close of his 
 life presents a melancholy picture of the insufficiency of 
 wealth and honour to quiet the remonstrances of con- 
 science, or to calm the tumult of an agitated spirit. 
 
 Goldsmith, describing the concluding scenes of his 
 existence, observes : — " All peace was now for ever 
 banished from his mind. He now found that the gran- 
 deur to which he had sacrificed his former peace, was 
 only an inlet to fresh inquietudes. The fears of assassina- 
 tion haunted him in all his walks, and were perpetually 
 present to his imagination. He wore armour under his 
 clothes, and always kept pistols in Id's pockets. His aspect 
 was clouded by a settled gloom, and he regard 
 every stranger with a glance of timid suspicion. He 
 always travelled with hurry, and w.i^ ever attended by ■<■ 
 
 numerous guard, lie nevei returned from any plai 
 
 k2
 
 r34 
 
 the road he went, and seldom slept above three nights 
 together in the same chamber. Society terrified him, as 
 there he might meet an enemy ; solitude was terrible, as 
 he was there unguarded bv every friend." 
 
 The characters hitherto noticed, have been those whose 
 ambition prompted them to seek for fame amidst the toils 
 of a military life, the din of camps, the extension of con- 
 quest, or the splendour of royalty ; but there are men, 
 who pant for honour and renown amidst the bustle of a 
 court, and in the political cabinet. 
 
 Cardinal Wolsey was an eminent instance of the little 
 dependence which is to be placed upon popular favour. 
 Gifted with a commanding genius, 
 
 " a scholar, and a ripe and good one, 
 
 Exceeding wise, fair spoken, and persuading :" 
 
 by his brilliant talents, he was enabled to elevate himself 
 from a comparatively insignificant station, to stand next 
 to the throne in dignity and honour. Johnson, speaking 
 of his greatness, says — 
 
 " In full-blown dignity, see Wolsey stand, 
 Law in his voice, ^nd fortune in his hand;
 
 135 
 
 To him, the church, the realm, their pow'rs consign ; 
 Through him, the rays of regal bounty shine ; 
 Turn'd by his nod, the stream of honour flows, 
 His smile alone security bestows : 
 Still to new heights, his restless wishes tow"r ; 
 Claim leads to claim, and pow'r advances po\ 
 Till conquest unresisted ceasM to please. 
 And rights submitted left him none to seize. ,- 
 
 Not contented with thus directing the political and 
 
 ecclesiastical affairs of the English nation, he aspired to 
 
 even a loftier height, and seemed determined not to rest 
 
 satisfied, till the Papal tiara was placed upon his brow. 
 
 Here his ambition " o'erleap'd itself ;" the haughtiness 
 
 of his deportment, and the dazzling magnificence of his 
 
 princely establishments excited the disgust, and called 
 
 forth the jealousy of the nobles of Henry's court ; and 
 
 envy, ever eagle-eyed, had long. been anxiously watching 
 
 for an opportunity to humble the arrogance of the upstart, 
 
 as he was contemptuously denominated. The machina- 
 
 tions of his enemies at length succeeded ; his double- 
 
 dealing was made manifest ; and retribution followed 
 o 
 
 closely upon this discovery of his duplicity. 
 
 He was; soon deprived of those regal honour:, which 
 had been so lavishingly conferred upon , I 
 of fawn i i phants, and the homage «'f the people no
 
 136 
 
 longer greeted his public appearance; but the bitter taunts 
 of sarcasm and the sneers of triumphant malice hailed 
 his approach. Having retired to his see of York, he was 
 there arrested, by order of his incensed monarch, upon a 
 charge of high treason ; and was proceeding to London, 
 as a state prisoner, when he halted at Leicester Abbey ; 
 where " broken with the storms of state,'' and smarting 
 under the agony of a wounded spirit, he bade an eternal 
 farewell to this transitory scene : with his expiring breath 
 he regretted the folly of his pursuits, and cursed the mad- 
 ness of that ambition, which could lead him, while dis- 
 charging his duty to the king, and promoting his own 
 temporal advancement, to neglect the glory of his Maker. 
 The bard of Avon has beautifully described his declining 
 power, where he represents Wolsey making use of the 
 following emphatic soliloquy : — 
 
 " Farewell .' a long farewell to all my greatness : 
 This is the state of man; to-day he puts forth 
 The tender leaves of hope ; to-morrow blossoms, 
 And bears his blushing honours thick upon him ; 
 The third day comes a frost, a killing frost, 
 And when he thinks, good, easy man, full surely 
 His greatness is a ripening, nips his root; 
 And then he falls, as I do. I have ventur'd, 
 Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, 
 This many Summers in a sea of glory, 
 But far beyond my depth : my high blown prid«
 
 137 
 
 At length broke under me ; and now has left me, 
 Weary and old with service, to the mercy 
 Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me. 
 Vain pomp and glory of the world ! I hate ye. 
 1 feel my heart new opened : Oh ! how wretched 
 Is that poor man, that hangs on princes' favours ; 
 There is betwixt that smile we would aspire to, 
 That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, 
 More pangs and fears than wars or women have , 
 AnJ when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, 
 Never to hope again." 
 
 We see then most distinctly written upon the pages 
 of history, a lamentable comment upon the vanity of 
 ambition ; and yet how many weary themselves in an 
 eacer chase of the phantom of glory ; how many there 
 are, of whom it may be literally said in the language of 
 sacred truth, that " they spend their money for that 
 which is not bread, and their labour for that which satis- 
 fieth not." In the moments of calm reflection (for even 
 the most abandoned must occasionally indulge such reflec- 
 tion) the consideration of the misery which they have 
 wantonly caused, and of the blood which they have un- 
 necessarily shed, must wring their bosoms with unutter- 
 able woe, and inflict the most exquisite mental torment. 
 Conscience must be heard ; its gentle whispers may for .-< 
 time be disregarded ; but it will eventuallj roar v\itii til
 
 138 
 voice of a lion, and distract the soul with the most 
 alarming inquietude. The retrospect of a life thus spent 
 cannot yield substantial peace, or permanent delight ; 
 cannot throw one illuminating ray across the clouded path 
 of adversity, or shed one cheering beam on the dark valley 
 of the shadow of death. 
 
 How many of the votaries of fame have failed of 
 obtaining the object of their pursuit, and have been 
 denied even the empty honour of a name in the records 
 of time ! Many, perhaps, warm with hope, and thirsting 
 for renown, have anticipated the achievement of some 
 heroic act which should crown them with immortal 
 honour ; the wreath of glory has encircled their brows ; 
 admiring crowds paid homage ; and the shouts of ap- 
 plauding multitudes proclaimed them as gods among the 
 people : Death, the mighty leveller of human distinctions, 
 has dissipated these visionary prospects ; and the waves 
 of everlasting oblivion have rolled over their unhonoured 
 tombs. 
 
 It must not be understood, that the love of glory is 
 here indiscriminately censured ; " the thirst of fame is
 
 139 
 
 violent ; the desire of honour is powerful ; and he who 
 gave them to us, gave them for great purposes :"'* when 
 our exertions are required in the sacred cause of justice ; 
 when our energies are called into action for the good of 
 our country ; ambition becomes a virtue, a spirit of lauda- 
 ble emulation. Restrained within proper bounds, and 
 directed to proper objects, it is an animating principle, 
 which prompts us to the noblest efforts, and incites us to 
 those vigorous attempts, to which the thoughtless and the 
 negligent never aspire. 
 
 Leaving the contemplation of the candidate for 
 military or political fame, we sometimes behold an equally 
 ardent aspirant in the literary student ; and surely this is 
 a species of ambition, of which honourable mention may 
 be made ; destruction is not its harbinger ; misery heralds 
 not its approach ; the man of learning acquires not his 
 renown at the expense of a nation's woe, the sighs of the 
 widow, and the tears of the orphan : silently and unosten- 
 tatiously he pursues his pacific and useful course, in 
 seeking to open new sources of information ; to extend 
 the boundaries of science ; to abolish the reign of igno- 
 
 * Economy of Unman Life.
 
 140 
 ranee ; and more effectually to establish the dominion of 
 truth and knowledge. 
 
 Men of the brightest genius have, alas ! too frequently 
 prostituted their talents to the cause of irreligion and 
 blasphemy ; the whole artillery of their wit, and the 
 keenest arrows of their satire have been levelled at the 
 most sacred institutions ; the Altar and the Throne have 
 alike been made the objects of their virulent attacks ; and 
 pleased with their own malevolent efforts, they have 
 exulted in the mischief which they have created. Like 
 those conquerors who have gloried in wantonly scattering 
 around them the fire-brands of desolation, they have 
 witnessed, with a kind of diabolical glee, the baneful 
 consequences which have resulted from their perverted 
 endeavours. 
 
 When genius puts forth its energies in the cause of 
 virtue and religion ; when it has for its object, the inno- 
 cent gratification, the information, or the good of society 
 at large ; then it indeed advances high claims upon our 
 respect and admiration ; the bays of the poet are more 
 honourable than the laurels of the warrior : the wreath, 
 which adorned the brow of Virgil, was far more beau-
 
 141 
 
 tiful than the chaplet which bound the temples of 
 Caesar. 
 
 " Knowledge is power," says the philosophical Bacon ; 
 a remark, as strictly true in its individual, as in its poli- 
 tical application : knowledge gives strength and energy to 
 the mind ; imparts vigour to the understanding ; exalts 
 the character ; ennobles and dignifies the man. Pope 
 Pius the Second observed, " that men in general should 
 regard learning as silver ; noblemen should value it as 
 gold ; and princes should estimate it as diamonds :" many 
 have found it the" highway to honour ; and have been 
 enabled, solely by their mental exertions, to raise them- 
 selves from stations of comparative obscurity, to offices of 
 opulence and distinction. 
 
 Knowledge can scarcely be too highly rated ; riches 
 may take to themselves wings and fly away ; but the man 
 of learning has a resource of pleasure within himself; a 
 fountain of delight in his own bosom ; a treasure, of 
 which no earthly power can deprive hiin. How often 
 have the pursuits of literature and science cheered the 
 dark days of adversity ; imparted consolation amidst the 
 horrors of a prison ; and soothed the miseries of exile !
 
 142 
 Dante, Grotius, Tasso, Milton, Bolingbroke, Raleigh, 
 Prior, Cervantes, and many an unfortunate genius have 
 derived a high degree of mental enjoyment, from the 
 exercise of imagination in their favorite studies ; and have 
 thus obtained a temporary suspension of their woes, in 
 the most gloomy seasons of affliction and sorrow. 
 
 Honourable as is the ambition which animates the 
 literary aspirant, it is an ambition, which frequently termi- 
 nates in disappointment, sorrow, and despair. Too often 
 are the children of the Muses destined to tread the rugged 
 path of adversity ; and to drink the bitter dregs of the 
 cup of calamity. Too often has the flower of genius 
 blossomed beneath a frowning sky ; has withered under 
 the chillino- blasts of neglect ; has bloomed unnoticed, 
 and perished unregarded. 
 
 The fates of Cervantes,* who perished in the streets 
 of Madrid ; of Butler, f who lived in penury, and was 
 interred at the cost of a friend ; of Otway, who, after 
 enduring the severest privations, was choked by a 
 mouthful of bread, with which charity had supplied him, 
 
 * Author of Don Quixote + Author of Hudihras.
 
 143 
 
 when on the point of starvation ; of Savage, who closed 
 a life of suffering in a prison ; of Chatterton, who com- 
 mitted suicide, under a most complicated pressure of 
 poverty and despair ; are hut a few of those mournful 
 instances, which may be gleaned from the biography of 
 men of the brightest talents ; whose works have left to 
 posterity, a striking monument of their genius and erudi- 
 tion. 
 
 Montgomery, in his beautiful poem of the Lyre, has 
 admirably depicted the sorrows, with which the sons of 
 genius have frequently to struggle ; and that deep, roman- 
 tic feeling, which binds them, as with a spell, to the 
 cherished object of their pursuits. An unfortunate child 
 of song is represented as wandering forth, in all " the 
 mournful resignation of despair ; pale with thought, 
 serenely pale," he bemoans his desolate condition ; and 
 determines to relinquish his poetic labours. The love of 
 glory fires his soul ; the death defying trumpet sum- 
 mons him to the field of conquest ; and he exults in the 
 anticipation of a hero's fame ; for a moment, he pauses 
 to reflect upon the desolation which attends the march of 
 the military conqueror : —
 
 144 
 
 " Soft! the blood of murder'd legions 
 Summons vengeance from the skies : 
 
 Flaming towns and ravaged regions 
 All in awful judgment rise." 
 
 His heart sickens at the prospect, and the dazzling 
 visions of honour cease to allure. " Innocently brave, " 
 he then resolves to unfurl the sails of commerce ; and to 
 bless his paternal soil with the fruits of his merchandise. 
 He hastens to accomplish his purpose, to give " his lyre 
 and sorrow to the wind :" that lyre, which had often 
 solaced him in the night of affliction, and cheered him in 
 the day of mirth, is now suspended on the withered 
 branches of an aged oak : the recollection of the past 
 rushes into the poet's mind ; he turns towards the dear 
 companion of his solitary hours, and gazes, like a depart- 
 ing lover, with an eye of lingering, impassioned tender- 
 ness upon the beloved object of his affections. The fairy 
 fingers of aerial spirits touch the tuneful strings; celestial 
 harmony floats upon the breeze; the master passion of the 
 bard is powerfully awakened ; his dreams of commercial 
 greatness are instantly forgotten ; he again seizes his lyre 
 ** with all a poet's ecstacy," and pours forth his animated 
 strains with enthusiastic fervour.
 
 145 
 
 " Lyre, O Lyre, my chosen treasure, 
 
 Solace of my Heeding heart .' 
 Lyre, O Lyre, my only pleasure ! 
 
 We will never, never part! 
 
 Glory, Commerce, now in vain, 
 
 Tempt me to the field, the main ; 
 The Muses' sons are hlest, though born 
 To cold neglect, and penury and scorn. 
 
 " What, though all the world neglect me ! 
 
 Shall my haughty soul repine? 
 And shall poverty deject me, 
 
 While this hallowed Lyre is mine? 
 
 Heaven — that o'er my helpless head, 
 
 Many a wrathful vial shed : — 
 Heaven gave this Lyre, and thus decreed, 
 Be thou a tyuiscd, but not a broken reed." 
 
 Having considered the fruits of military, political, and 
 literary ambition ; upon a calm review of the subject, can 
 any reward, which it holds out to its votaries, compensate 
 for the many sacrifices which are made for its attainment. 
 The hero may succeed in inscribing his name upon the 
 tablets of fame ; the senator may exult in the shouts of 
 popular applause ; and the poet may chant a lofty song, 
 whose sweetness shall delight succeeding generations; but 
 is there any thing in the anticipation, or the enjoyment of 
 this fancied immortality, that can requite for the toil and 
 anxiety, which are undergone in the endeavour to obtain 
 this trifling pre-eminence among mortals ; any thing that
 
 1*6 
 
 can be placed in competition with an approving con- 
 
 science ? 
 
 '' One self approving hour, whole years outweighs, 
 Of stupid starers, and of loud huzzas." 
 
 True greatness consists not in that dazzling elevation, 
 which exalts us to a proud distinction among our fellow- 
 men : it consists in a faithful discharge of the duties of 
 our stations, and a proper exercise of those talents, with 
 which we are gifted. When the warrior unsheatlis his 
 sword in the cause of liberty, in defence of oppressed 
 humanity, or in opposition to the inroads of invasion ; 
 when the politician acts with a single eye to his country's 
 good; when the man of learning employs his abilities for 
 the promotion of the public welfare ; their zeal becomes 
 consecrated ; and they richly merit the laurels of fame. 
 
 Let it be the ambition of every one to fulfil the duties 
 of his station, in a manner, calculated to adorn the 
 sphere in which he moves ; let his intellectual powers, and 
 his moral influence be exerted in support of virtue and 
 religion ; let piety to God, and benevolence to man be 
 the distinguishing traits of his character; then, though 
 the diadem of honour may not glitter upon his brow ;
 
 147 
 though the plaudits of the people may not greet his public 
 appearance ; the consciousness of a life spent in the sacred 
 exercise of faith and holiness, shall be a reward more 
 valuable than a coronet ; more satisfying than the clamours 
 of the multitude. Time will come, when the world shall 
 lose its fascinations ; when earthly grandeur shall cease to 
 charm ; when the visions of greatness shall no longer 
 delight ; but " this shall bring a man peace at the last ;" 
 this shall sustain the soul amidst the agonies of expiring 
 nature; and shall cheer the departing spirit with the 
 bright hope of a glorious immortality. The memorial of 
 the righteous perishes not with the annals of time ; it is 
 lasting as the joys of heaven ; imperishable as the records 
 of eternity. 
 
 " The paths of glory lead but to the grave;" 
 
 • whether there be prophecies, they shall fail ; whether 
 there be tongues, they shall cease ; whether there be 
 knowledge, it shall vanish away;" but the memory of (he 
 just shall survive the stroke of death— shall outlive the 
 dissolution of the universe : their names " shall be had in 
 everlasting remembrance," when the deeds of the mighty 
 shall be no more celebrated ; when the scngs of tl i 
 shall be lost in the silence of oblivion ; and the proud 
 achievements of the hero arc eternally forgotten. 
 
 (-
 
 H O P E. 
 
 Primeval Hope, the Aunian Muses say, 
 
 When Man and Nature mourn'd their first decay; 
 
 \\ hen every form of death, arid every woe. 
 
 Shot from malignant stars to earth below; 
 
 When Murder bared her arm, and rampant V ir, 
 
 Yoked the red dragons of her iron car, 
 
 When Peace and Mercy banish'd from the plain, 
 
 Sprang on the viewless winds to Heav'n again; 
 
 All, all forsook the friendless guilty mind, 
 
 But Hope, the charmer, linger'd still behind. 
 
 Campbell. 
 
 O ! thou, whose hand can pour the heavenly balm 
 
 Of consolation in the wounded heart ; 
 
 Whose eye can dart the glance of holy peace 
 
 Amidst the darkest scenes of earthly woe : 
 
 Bright messenger of mercy, cheering Hope ! 
 
 Thy voice inspires delight amidst the storms 
 
 r. 2
 
 150 
 Of tribulation : — though the tempest rave, 
 And desolation blight the fairest flowers 
 Of human happiness : though many a wreck 
 Of joy be scatter'd o'er the foaming waves 
 Of dark Adversity's tempestuous sea: 
 Thy angel form can cheer the lowering gloom ; 
 And, 'midst the howling of the blast, thy song 
 Be music to the mourner's troubled soul. 
 
 Solace of misery ! thou dwellest not 
 In heaven's eternal clime! where seraph bands, 
 Beside the streams of everlasting bliss, 
 Attune their harps to gladness — Hope is lost 
 In full fruition : there the tear is wip'd 
 From Sorrow's eye : Affliction sighs no more ; 
 But all is transport, happiness, and love. 
 
 Thou dwellest not in Hell : — the star of Hope 
 Can never pierce the blackness of its caves : 
 The fires of vengeance, and the flames of wrath, 
 Alone can light the prisons of the damned 
 With horrid glare : — despair and agony, 
 Throughout eternity, are inmates there.
 
 151 
 Thou hast thy habitation, lovely one ! 
 Among the dwellings of the sons of men. 
 Thy sway on earth is mighty : every heart 
 Bows, or has bow'd, to thy authority ; 
 And though sometimes thy promise be delay 'd, 
 Till Nature sicken — till the chilling damps 
 Of cureless grief oppress the suffering soul ; 
 E'en then, thy light will sometimes streak the gloom, 
 With all the brightness of the lightning's flash: 
 We gaze upon its glory ; while we gaze, 
 'Tis gone : — 'twas transient, yet 'twas beautiful. 
 
 Amidst a dreary wilderness of woe, 
 Enchantress ! thou, with potent charm, canst call 
 Spirits of gladness ; at thy nod they come, 
 A smiling band : and scenes of beauty rise 
 In desert wastes ; thy voice can conjure up 
 Visions of light, and loveliness, and joy. 
 
 Go, ask the captive, pining in his cell, 
 What is it that consoles his bleeding heart, 
 And soothes the sadness of his prison hours ? 
 With sickly smile, he lifts his failed eye, 
 And tells thee, Hope will sometimes bless his cave
 
 152 
 With angel visits ; that she sometimes speaks 
 Of coming liberty, and future peace. 
 
 What is it that supports the seaman's soul, 
 When in the lonesome watches of the night, 
 He looks on Ocean's watery wilderness, 
 Thinks on his distant land, his friends, his love ? 
 Hope treads the billows of the roaring main, 
 And pointing to his native shores, she tells 
 Of dangers past ; of joy's triumphant hour ; 
 Of days of bliss ; of home enjoy 'd again. 
 
 The soldier in the battle's loud alarms, 
 When slaughter bathes his sword in human blood, 
 And havoc revels o'er the gory plain ; 
 E'en in the tumult, and the deafening noise 
 Of charging hosts, and cannon's thunder, hears 
 Hope's gentle whispers promise halcyon days ; 
 When he, retiring from the din of camps, 
 To scenes of pleasure, and of calm repose, 
 Shall wear the laurels gain'd in Glory's field. 
 
 The lover, in his waking dreams of bliss, 
 Sees in the glance of Beauty's speaking eye,
 
 153 
 
 Tenderly eloquent, the beam of Hope, 
 Which lights his heart with gladness ; every sigh, 
 That fond affection breathes, he deems the voice 
 Of love, foretelling years of future joy. 
 
 The Poet, in his midnight vigils, hears 
 Hope's syren song : imagination marks 
 The pomp which dignifies his honour'd tomb 
 And views, as through the telescope of time, 
 Succeeding crenerations raise the shouts 
 Of approbation, as his strains are sung. 
 
 But ah ! how often, bland deceiver, men 
 Cling to thy promises, and fondly cling, 
 Till sad experience wrings the bitter sigh 
 Of disappointment, o'er each flattering vow, 
 So often made, so often unfulfilled. 
 Life is uncertain — earthly joys arc vain — 
 Fame is a bubble — Beauty may deceive : 
 But there's a hope that faileth not — a hope, 
 Whose power can soothe Affliction's keenest pai 
 And bring assurance of eternal peace. 
 Behold, how tranquilly the good man meets 
 Life's disappointments ; like the flexile reed,
 
 }5\ 
 
 He bows, but falls not 'neath tbe tempest's wrath. 
 Hope smiles in every pleasing scene of joy, 
 Consoles him in the darkest hours of grief ; 
 Yea, when the dews of death fall cold and damp 
 Upon his fainting brow, Hope takes her stand 
 Beside the good man's couch, and cheers his soul 
 With brilliant prospects of immortal bliss. 
 
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