Britannia needs no bulwarks, Her march is on the mountain-waves, With thunders from her native oak, As they roar on the shore, When the stormy winds do blow; When the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow. The meteor flag of England Till danger's troubled night depart, Then, then, ye ocean-warriors! When the storm has ceased to blow; WILDE. STANZAS. My life is like the summer rose My life is like the autumn leaf That trembles in the moon's pale ray, Its hold is frail-its date is brief, Restless and soon to pass away! Yet, ere that leaf shall fall and fade, The parent tree will mourn its shade, The winds bewail the leafless tree, But none shall breathe a sigh for me! My life is like the prints, which feet Have left on Tampa's desert strand; Soon as the rising tide shall beat, All trace will vanish from the sand; Yet, as if grieving to efface All vestige of the human race, On that lone shore loud moans the sca, But none, alas! shall mourn for me! JAMES MONTGOMERY. THE DEATH OF ADAM. THE sun, in summer majesty on high, Darted his fierce effulgence down the sky; Yet dimm'd and blunted were the dazzling rays, His orb expanded through a dreary haze, He look'd in sickly horror from his throne: When higher noon had shrunk the lessening shade, And stretch'd him, pillow'd with his latest sheaves, On a fresh couch of green and fragrant leaves. Here, though his sufferings through the glen were known, Eve, Seth, and I.-In vain he sigh'd for rest, Your sunless shadows o'er my limbs diffuse, O bring Ye Cedars! wash me cold with midnight dews; Cheer me, my friends! with looks of kindness cheer; Whisper a word of comfort in mine ear; These sorrowing faces fill my soul with gloom This silence is the silence of the tomb." The sun went down, amidst an angry glare Of flushing clouds, that crimson'd all the air; The winds brake loose; the forest-boughs were torn, THE DEATH OF ADAM. Cattle to shelter scudded in affright; Then burst the hurricane upon the vale, In peals of thunder, and thick-volley'd hail; Around its base, the foamy-crested streams Flash'd through the darkness to the lightning's gleams; Amidst this war of elements, within More dreadful grew the sacrifice of sin, Bright through the smouldering ashes of the man, This wrestling agony of Death and Life, Think not that He, on whom my soul is cast, My chains are breaking, I shall soon be free: T He closed his eyelids with a tranquil smile, His presence still'd the fury of the storm; Our Mother first beheld him, sore amazed, But terror grew to transport, while she gazed.— ""Tis he, the Prince of Seraphim! who drove Our banish'd feet from Eden's happy grove. Adam, my Life, my Spouse, awake!" she cried; "Return to Paradise; behold thy Guide! O let me follow in this dear embrace !" She sunk, and on his bosom hid her face. "I come!" he cried, with faith's full triumph fir'd, And in a sigh of ecstasy expir'd. The light was vanish'd, and the vision fled; |