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Within this temple Christ again, unseen,
Those sacred words has said,
Laid on a young man's head.
The unseen Christ shall move,
“Dost thou, dear Lord, approve ?” Beside him at the marriage feast shall be,
To make the scene more fair ;
Of pain and midnight prayer.
Like the beloved John,
And thus to journey on!
MIDNIGHT AND MOONSHINE. A fine descriptive passage in a poem by WILLIAM MOTHERWELL.
Look! look! the land is sheathed in light,
And mark the winding stream,
Its rippling waters gleam,
O! merrily they go;
Dim music as they flow.
High in mid air, on seraph wing,
Within her vaulted halls a pace,
These Godkins of the sky
While every heart beats high
Her loftier divinity.
It is a smile worth worlds to win-
Is margin'd marvellously;
How beautiful they be!
Upon a mother's knee.
And lo! even like a giant wight
Slumbering his battle toils away, The sleep-lock'd city, gleaming bright
With many a dazzling ray,
And echoless the hall;
No deeper quiet could fall.
In this religious calm of night,
O God! this is a holy hour:
Thy breath is o'er the land ; I feel it in each little flower
Around me where I stand,
In all the moonshine scatter'd fair,
THIRTEEN AT TABLE. A spirited translation from BERANGER, the greatest lyric poet of France. THIRTEEN at the table! Alas, for the error!
And the salt but this moment was spilt by my plate! Ah, number ill-boding! Ah, presage of terror!
Hark, death is at hand—'tis the moment of fate! But lo! 'tis a spirit, a goddess, a fairy,
And beauteous and young, and she smiles on our glee ! Nay, let us renew our gay songs and be merry; For death wears no longer its terrors for me.
Though here like a guest to our board she advances,
And wears a gay festival garland like ours, I only behold her-alone to my glances
Appears her bright wreath like a rainbow of flowers. She holds a rent chain, and so sweetly reposing,
A small sleeping babe on her bosom I see. Fill up to the brim the red cup of carousing ; For death wears no longer its terrors for me. “And why,” thus she speaks, “ should my presence be
dreaded, Twin-sister of hope, and a daughter of heaven? Oh, why by the slave should that power be upbraided,
By which the dull chains of his tyrant are riven ?
Fallen angel, the wings which, in pilgrimage human,
The fates have withheld, I shall render to thee!”
" Again will I come," she pursues, “and with pleasure
Thy soul in all space shall at liberty stray,
That heaven scatters wide o'er Eternity's way.
Enjoy all that still from remorse may be free," Let pleasure, in peace, make existence endearing, For death wears no longer its terrors for me.
A hound bay'd without, and, unearthly and fleeting,
The fair apparition evanish'd away.
When the chill of the coffin arrests with dismay!
Borne on by the waves to its port o'er the sea,
AN OLD HAUNT.
The tall elms, tow'ring in their stately pride,
Kissing in graceful woe the murmuring tide ;-
The faint hills gilded by the parting sun, —
To welcome me as they of old had done.
And for a while I stood as in a trance,
On that loved spot, forgetting toil and pain ;Buoyant my limbs, and keen and bright my glance,
For that brief space I was a boy again!
Again with giddy mates I careless play'd,
Or plied the quiv'ring oar, on conquest bent ;Again, beneath the tall elms silent shade,
I woo'd the fair, and won the sweet consent.
But brief, alas ! the spell,- for suddenly
Peal'd from the tower the old familiar chimes, And with their clear, beart-thrilling melody,
Awaked the spectral forms of darker times.
And I remember'd all that years had wrought
How bow'd my care-worn frame, how dimm'd my eye, How poor the gauds by youth so keenly sought,
How quench'd and dull youth's aspirations high ! And in half mournful, half upbraiding host,
Duties neglected-high resolves unkept-
In lightning current o'er my bosom swept.
The self-accusing thoughts in dread array,
Forced the remorseful tears their silent way.
Bitter, yet healing drops ! in mercy sent,
Like soft dews falling on a thirsty plain, And ere those chimes their last faint notes had spent,
Strengthen'd and calm'd, I stood erect again.
Strengthen'd, the tasks allotted to fulfil;
Calm'd, the thick-coming sorrows to endure; Fearful of naught but of my own frail will,
In His Almighty strength and aid secure.
For a sweet voice had whisper'd hope to me,
Had through my darkness shed a kindly ray ;It said : “ The past is fix'd immutably,
Yet is there comfort in the coming day !"