Upon the earth beneath his feet; and spake.
"To a mysteriously-consorted pair
This place is consecrate; to death and life,
And to the best affections that proceed
From their conjunction. Consecrate to faith
In Him who bled for man upon the cross;
Hallowed to revelation; and no less
To reason's mandates; and the hopes divine
Of pure imagination ;-above all,
To charity, and love, that have provided,
Within these precincts a capacious bed
And receptacle, open to the good
And evil, to the just and the unjust;
In which they find an equal resting-place :
Even as the multitude of kindred brooks
And streams whose murmur fills this hollow vale,
Whether their course be turbulent or smooth,
Their waters clear or sullied, all are lost
Within the bosom of yon crystal lake,
And end their journey in the same repose!
"And blest are they who sleep; and we that know While in a spot like this we breathe and walk, That all beneath us by the wings are covered
Of motherly humanity, outspread
And gathering all within their tender shade,
Though loth and slow to come! A battle-field,
In stillness left when slaughter is no more,
With this compared, is a strange spectacle !
A rueful sight the wild shore strewn with wrecks,
And trod by people in afflicted quest
Of friends and kindred whom the angry sea
Restores not to their prayer! Ah! who would think That all the scattered subjects which compose
Earth's melancholy vision through the space
Of all her climes; these wretched, these depraved, To virtue lost, insensible of peace,
From the delights of charity cut off,
To pity dead, the oppressor and the opprest;
Tyrants who utter the destroying word,
And slaves who will consent to be destroyed-
Were of one species with the sheltered few,
Who, with a dutiful and tender hand,
Did lodge in an appropriated spot,
This file of infants; some that never breathed
The vital air; and others, who, allowed
That privilege, did yet expire too soon,
Or with too brief a warning, to admit
Administration of the holy rite
That lovingly consigns the babe to the arms
Of Jesus, and his everlasting care.
These that in trembling hope are laid apart ;
And the besprinkled nursling, unrequired
Till he begins to smile upon the breast
That feeds him; and the tottering little one
Taken from air and sunshine when the rose
Of infancy first blooms upon his cheek;
The thinking, thoughtless schoolboy; the bold youth
(Depraved, and ever prone to fill their minds
Exclusively with transitory things)
An air and mien of dignified pursuit ;
Of sweet civility-on rustic wilds.
The poet fostering for his native land
Such hope, entreats that servants may abound
Of those pure altars worthy; ministers
Detached from pleasure, to the love of gain
Superior, insusceptible of pride,
And by ambitious longings undisturbed;
Men, whose delight is where their duty lands
Or fixes them; whose least distinguished day
Shines with some portion of that heavenly lustre
Which makes the Sabbath lovely in the sight
Of blessed angels, pitying human cares.
And, as on earth it is the doom of truth
To be perpetually attacked by foes
Open or covert, be that priesthood still,
For her defence, replenished with a band
Of strenuous champions, in scholastic arts
Thoroughly disciplined; ncr (if in course
Of the revolving world's disturbances
Cause should recur, which righteous Heaven avert !
To meet such trial) from their spiritual sires
Degenerate; who, constrained to wield the sword
Of disputation, shrunk not though assailed
With hostile din, and combating in sight
Of angry umpires, partial and unjust;
And did, thereafter, bathe their hands in fire,
So to declare the conscience satisfied:
Nor for their bodies would accept release;
But, blessing God, and praising him, bequeathed,
With their last breath, from out the smouldering flame,
The faith which they by diligence had earned,
Or, through illuminating grace, received,
For their dear countrymen, and all mankind.
Oh, high example, constancy divine!
Even such a man (inheriting the zeal
And from the sanctity of elder times
Not deviating,-a priest, the like of whom,
If multiplied, and in their stations set,
Would o'er the bosom of a joyful land
Spread true religion, and her genuine fruits)
Before me stood that day; on holy ground
Fraught with the relics of mortality,
Exalting tender themes, by just degrees
To lofty raised; and to the highest, last:
The head and mighty paramount of truths;
Immortal life in never-fading worlds,
For mortal creatures, conquered and secured.
That basis laid, those principles of faith
Announced as a preparatory act
Of reverence to the spirit of the place;
The pastor casts his eyes upon the ground,
Not, as before, like one oppressed with awe.
But with a mild and social cheerfulness,
Then to the Solitary turned, and spake—
"At morn or eve, in your retired domain,
Perchance you not unfrequently have marked
A visitor,-in quest of herbs and flowers;
Too delicate employ, as would appear,
For one who, though of drooping mien, had yet
From nature's kindliness received a frame
Robust as ever rural labour bred."
The Solitary answered :- "Such a form
Full well I recollect. We often crossed
Each other's path; but, as the intruder seemed
Fondly to prize the silence which he kept,
And I as willingly did cherish mine,
We met, and passed like shadows. I have heard,
From my good host, that he was crazed in brain
By unrequited love; and scaled the rocks,
Dived into caves, and pierced the matted woods,
In hope to find some virtuous herb, of power
To cure his malady!"
The vicar smiled.
"Alas! before to-morrow's sun goes down
His habitation will be here for him
That open grave is destined."
Of pain and grief?" the Solitary asked.
"Believe it not-oh! never could that be!"
"He loved," the vicar answered, "deeply loved,
Loved fondly, truly, fervently; and dared
At length to tell his love, but sued in vain ;
Rejected-yea, repelled-and, if with scorn
Upon the haughty maiden's brow, 'tis but
A high-prized plume which female beauty wears
In wantonness of conquest, or puts on
To cheat the world, or from herself to hide
Humiliation, when no longer free.
That he could brook, and glory in ;-but when
The tidings came that she whom he had wooed
Was wedded to another, and his heart
Was forced to rend away its only hope,
Then, pity could have scarcely found on earth
An object worthier of regard than he,
In the transition of that bitter hour!
Lost was she, lost; nor could the sufferer say
That in the act of preference he had been
Unjustly dealt with; but the maid was gone!
Had vanished from his prospects and desires;
Not by translation to the heavenly choir
Who have put off their mortal spoils-ah, no!
She lives another's wishes to complete,-
'Joy be their lot, and happiness,' he cried,
'His lot and hers, as misery is mine!'
Such was that strong concussion; but the man Who trembled, trunk and limbs, like some huge oak
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