'Tis the divinity that stirs within us, And intimates eternity to man. Eternity! thou pleasing, dreadful thought! we pass? The wide, the unbounded prospect lies before me, But shadows, clouds and darkness rest upon it. Here will I hold. If there's a power above us And that there is all Nature cries aloud virtue, And that which he delights in must be happy. But when? or where? This world was made for Cæsar. I'm weary of conjectures. This must end [Laying his hand Of the vast palace were astir, and feet Play with his loved son by the fountain's What means this heaviness that hangs upon For with idolatry confessed alone me, And The golden selvedge of his robe was heard Sweeping the marble pavement, from within Broke forth a child's laugh suddenly, and words Articulate, perhaps, to his heart only— Pleading to come to him. They brought the boy An infant cherub, leaping as if used Of Bathsheba's-the hue and type of love, David's lips Moved with unuttered blessings, and a while A servant of the outer court had knelt The servant bowed himself to earth and said, "Nathan the prophet cometh from the Lord." And David's lips grew white, and with a clasp Which wrung a murmur from the frighted child He drew him to his breast and covered him With the long foldings of his robe, and said, "I will come forth. Go now." And lingeringly, With kisses on the fair uplifted brow, And mingled words of tenderness and prayer Upon his breast with agony. And so Had rapidly spread o'er the summer heaven, The servants who kept watch without the And as the chill of the withdrawing sun. arose And with a troubled countenance looked up To the fast-gathering darkness, and, behold, door Sat motionless; the purple casement shades From the low windows had been rolled away To give the child air, and the flickering light That all the night within the spacious court Had drawn the watcher's eyes to one spot only Paled with the sunrise and fled in. And hushed With more than stillness was the room where lay To thy bright mercy-seat the way is far! How fail the weak words while the heart keeps on! The king's son on his mother's breast. His And when the spirit mournfully at last Or something that would fain have been a Crept to the threshold and looked earn Played in his parted mouth; and, though his Where the king lay. And still, while Bathlids Hid not the blue of his unconscious eyes, Heard not the voice of the complaining child, Nor breath from out the room, nor foot astir, Had wasted and the mornings come and days sheba Since the child sickened, and without the Upon his face and rend himself and weepFor while the child was sick his agony Would bear no comforters and they had door, Upon the bare earth prostrate, he had lain, And filled his prayer with agony. O God! thought His heartstrings with the tidings must give way Behold! his face grew calm, and, with his Gathered together like his kingly wont, Speed to his sword and vigor to his arm; PIRIT of light and life, when battle Fronts the steeled foe and mingles in the SPIRIT rears Her fiery brow and her terrific spears, roar And gasping thousands make their beds in gore, While on the billowy bosom of the air And hearst each groan that gurgles from the war. The cannon's hushed; nor drum nor clarion sound; Helmet and hauberk gleam upon the ground; gore; Patriots are dead and heroes dare no more; plain And lights the lurid features of the slain. List! War-peals thunder on the battle-field, And see on this rent mound, where daisies And many a hand grasps firm the glittering shield, As on, with helm and plume, the warriors come, And the glad hills repeat their stormy sprung, A battle-steed beneath his rider flung; The first, with hearts that consecrate the Ghastly and grimly stare upon the skies. deed, All eager rush to vanquish or to bleed, Like young waves racing in the morning sun, Afar, with bosom bared unto the breeze, knees, |