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The will to take, the will to leave,

Doth ever free remain,

They do themselves alone deceive
God's justice who arraign.

March, 1859.

THE SWALLOW.

Sing welcome to the swallow
Which is come across the sea,

The summer it doth follow,
From the winter it doth flee.

In the windows of our churches,
In the windows of our halls,
Its nest the swallow perches,
Till the leaf at autumn falls.

For the summer then 'tis yearning,
And again across the main,
On the wing it is returning
Till the spring shall come again.

O a reveller is the swallow,
And a pleasant life it leads,
As the summer it doth follow
And on delicacies feeds.

Flying hither, flying thither,
In the sunny days of spring;
Through the pleasant summer weather,
It is always on the wing.

Till away again it goeth,

When the autumn leaves decay,
Where the South Pacific floweth,
To those islands far away.

March, 1859.

THE GENTLEMAN.

Who is the gentleman? Of Norman blood
Is it, who on his scutcheon mottoes writes,
Whose ancestor with the First William stood,
At Hastings' battle and in other fights?

Is it, his thousand acres who doth own,
Whose castle home dates back a thousand years,
Is it, who stands in honour near the throne,
And ne'er in public without praise appears ?

Is it a chieftain of an ancient clan,

Within his veins the purest Celtic blood, Proud as a king, is this the gentleman,

Whose sire with Bruce at Bannockburn had stood?

Is he the gentleman who money saves,
And pours his gains into the Three
per Cents,
And still for more with boundless passion craves,
Investing it in Consols or in rents?

Is he the gentleman whose cloth is broad,
And by his tailor fashioned a la mode
To vulgar taste less lenient than to fraud,
And scorns to pay the bills which long he owed?

Dub him the gentleman of open hand,

And open heart to help his fellow man,
Of cultivated taste and manners bland,
In my opinion such the gentleman.

Love to his fellow and his God combined,
This the grand sentiment which that creates,

To jealousy and envy ever blind,

Evil oppresses not, nor good elates.

He is the gentleman and only he,

With such and only such I'd be allied;

Like some huge rock he seems beside the sea,
Unmoved amidst the raging of the tide.

March, 1859.

FAITH.

Faith hath the good for which it prays,
By God's true word revealed,
For though the enjoyment be delayed,
The right and title's sealed.

'Tis his by covenant-every good

He needs through Jesus given, Sealed with the Saviour's precious blood, And every sin forgiven.

O faith it is the magic key

To which each doubt gives way ;

It is the Christian's sesame,

Which all the wards obey.

Faith is a sword of polished steel
Within the Christian's hand,
Beneath its strokes doth Satan reel
Nor can against it stand.

Faith holds a balance in its hands,
Scales which do ne'er deceive,
There earthly treasures light as sands
The heavenly treasures leave.

Faith is an anchor of the soul,
To which it holdeth fast,

When round the raging waters roll,
And roars the dreadful blast.

Faith holds a crucible to test

Truth's sterling worth and weight, With fruitless trials ne'er oppressed, Success must come though late.

Faith looks on death as but a door
Which opens to the skies;
Sin's penalty to pay no more,
The body's sacrifice.

March, 1859.

66

TO ROME.

Eternal," on thy gates thou writest;
O the mockery of the name !
Gaul for help whilst thou invitest,
Austria's bayonets for the same.

The world's history, city, thine is,
More than half this planet's age,
From its dawn, where dim the line is
Upon Roman Livy's page.

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