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Rode in meridian glory; and the waves
Suhsiding, sunk as if hy gentle stealth
Insensihle. On Ararat the ark
Stopt. From whose hrow the patriarch sent

his dove, Light courier; she nor green tree found nor

sand To rest her printless foot, hut hted her home With ruffled hreast, and plumage sprent

with dew. What hodes her second emhassy? a shoot Of olive, cheerful green, upon her hill Shines graceful: tremhling haste, and eager

joy

Beam from the eye of Noah as he greets
The sure criterion of ahated flood.
Again she prunes her wing; hut not again
To heat her harriers, shall the hird return;
No; in the well-known mead, or grove, a

nest She weaves, and warhles wild her artless

notes , Or drinks amhrosial nectar from the rill.

Now was all nature drest in freshest green, Pure from the dregs of grosser earth, which

wind And wave had swept away. Mild Zephyr

sheds Refreshing hreezes, which the meadows'

down Impress not, as they hlow; so hrave a world It seem'd, so passing fair, that the eye hung Euamour'd of its charms. Thy cautious hand, Good Patriarch, wide the lattice of the ark Unfolded, curious dome; upon whose roof Was etch'd the chronicle of month and day; While the sun, quivering thro' hersahle gate, Reflects the gleam of thousand golden plumes Star-spangled insects, eyes of living fire, Darting their mingled radiance thro' the

gloom.

With mind uprais'd, and firm, not hasty

step, The Patriarch disemharks: white shone his

locks, The pride of reverend age; and white his

heard As the fresh snow on Rhodope: his look Was joy, chastis'd hy temperance and fear, Pear, such as wisdom prompts, as angels feel.

Fear not, O Earth: contentious waves no

more With hitter hlast shall sweep thy gallant sons, Like tremhling leaves, away! thy sure appeal Is yon hright curve, thy sure protection, God. Oft shall the hright reflection paint the lap Of Arcady, where old Penens curls His silver wave translucent; there the swain On sloping lawn, or level down, shall mark The gaudy phantom melting into air, Of pasture fresh, and gray unclouded dawn Sure presage! oft shall God gladden the

groves Of myrrh, and the sweet wilderness of halm With showers, and from his gay enamelled

how

Shed lucid fruitfulness; some aged spire
Shall rise hehind in pensive ivy clad,
And awful silence crown the lovely scene.

Far o'er the horizon of the trouhled sea, What time the storm retires, the how shall

dip Its woof in sky-grain'd tincture, from the

back Of some dun cloud emerging hy degrees, All hright, all vivid: this, Philosophy, Deep musing maid, shall oft at eve descry, And with her crystal prism contract, dilate lis frangihle and parti-coloured rays, Thy hoon, Astronomy's advent'rous child, Sage Newton! this religion's votary Shall greet with rapture, shall, with pray'r

pursue; And to his progeny the cause explain. "Rejoice, my Son, and on thy heart pourtray Yon mystic characters, that stamp the cloud. Once was the world degenerate, once was

sunk In wasting waters; hut hy yon fair how The Almighty swore, that not again should

Man Provoke his vengeance to let tempests loose Against this goodly earth. Hence in the

clouds He checks the map of waters; hence rehukes The roaring sea, if haply his proud surge High swell impetuous; seals the vast ahyss; And locks the fountains of the unfathom'd deep."

THE DEAD SEA.
Gen. xix. 21.

The wind hlows chill across those gloomy waves;—
Oh! how unlike the green and dancing main!

The surge is foul as if it rolled o'er graves ;—
Stranger,—here lie the cities of the plain.

Yes, on that plain, hy wild waves covered now,
Rose palace once, and sparkling pinnacle;

On pomp and spectacle heamed morning's glow,
On pomp and festival the twilight fell.

Lovely and splendid all,—hut Sodom's soul
Was stained with hlood, and pride, and perjury;

Long warned, long spared, till her whole heart was foul,
And fiery vengeance on its clouds came nigh.

And still she mocked, and danced, and taunting, spoke
Her sportive hlasphemies against the Throne :—

It came ! The thunder on her slumher hroke :—
God spake the word of wrath! Her dream was done.

Yet, in her final night, amid her stood
Immortal messenger, and pausing Heaven

Pleaded with man, hut she was quite imhued,
Her last hour waned, she scorned to he forgiven 1

'Twas done!—down pour'd at once the sulphurous shower,
Down stoop'd, in flame, the heaven's red canopy.

Oh ! for the arm of God in that fierce hour!—
'Twas vain, nor help of God or man was nigh.

They rush, they hound, they howl, the men of sin ;—
Still stoop'd the cloud, still hurst the thicker hlaze;

The earthquake heaved!—then sank the hideous din :—
Yon wave of darkness o'er their ashes strays.

INSCRIPTION FOR THE PILLAR
OF SALT.
Gen. xix. 28.

JORDAN.

In this pillar I do lie
Buried where no mortal eye
Ever could my hones descry.

When I saw great Sodom hurn,
To this pillar I did turn,
Where my hody is my urn.

You to whom my corpse I show,

Take true warning from my wo,

— Look not hack when God cries—" Go."

That way let your whole hearts lie;
If ye let them hackward flie,
They'll quickly grow as hard as I.

Counsel then I give to those,
Who the path to hliss have chose,
Turn not hack, ye cannot lose.

HAGAR IN THE DESERT.
Gen. xxi. 14, 20. ,

MRS. TIghE.

Iniured, hopeless, faint, and weary,
Sad, indignant, and forlorn,
Through the desert wild and dreary,
Hagar leads the child of scorn.

Who can speak a mother's anguish,
Painted in that tearless eye,
Which heholds her darling languish,
Languish uurelieved, and die.

Lo! the empty pitcher fails her,
Perishing with thirst he lies,
Death with deep despair assails her,
Piteous as for aid he cries.

From the dreadful image flying,
Wild she rushes from the sight;
In the agonies of dying,
Can she see her soul's delight?

Now hereft of every hope,
Cast upon the hurning ground.
Poor, ahandoned soul I look up,
Mercy have thy sorrows found.

Lo I the Angel of the Lord,
Comes thy great distress to cheer;
Listen to the gracious word,
See, divine relief is near.

"Care of Heaven ! though man forsake thee,
Wherefore vainly dost thou mourn?
From thy dream of wo awake thee,
To thy rescued child return.

** Lift thine eyes, hehold yon fountain,
Sparkling 'mid those fruitful trees;
Lo! heneath yon sheltering mountain
Smile for thee green howers of ease.

"In the hour of sore affliction,
God hath seen and pitied thee;
Cheer thee in the sweet conviction,
Thon henceforth his care shalt be.

"Be no more hy douhts distressed,
Mother of a mighty race!

By contempt no more oppressed,
Thou hast found a resting place ;"—

Thus from peace and comfort driven,
Thou, poor soul, all desolate,
Hopeless lay, till pitying Heaven,
Found thee in thy ahject state.

O'er thy empty pitcher mourning
'Mid the desert of the world,
Thus, with shame and anguish hurning,
From thy cherished pleasures hurled:

See thy great deliverer nigh,
Calls thee from thy sorrow vain,
Bids thee on his love rely,
Bless the salutary pain.

From thine eye the mist dispelling,
Lo! the well of life he shews,
In his presence ever dwelling,
Bids thee find thy true repose.

Future prospects, rich in hlessing,
Open to thy hopes secure;
Sure of endless joys possessing,
Of an heavenly kingdom sure.

JACOB AND PHARAOH.
Gen, xlvii. 7—10.

gRAhAME.

Pharaoh, upon a gorgeous throne of state Was seated; while around him stood suhmiss His servants, watchful of his lofty looks. The Patriarch enters, leaning on the arm Of Benjamin. Uumoved hy all the glare Of royalty, he scarcely throws a glance Upon the pageant show; for from his youth A shepherd's life he led, and' viewed each

night
The starry host; and still, where'er he went,
He felt himself in presence of the Lord.
His eye is hent on Joseph,—him pursues.
Sudden the king descends; and, hending,

kneels
Before the aged man, and supplicates
A hlessing from his lips! the aged man
S

Lays on the ground his staff, and stretching

forth His tremulous hand o'er Pharaoh's nn

crown'd head, Prays that the Lord would hless him and his

land.

THE FINDING OF MOSES. Ex. ii. 5, 6.

Slow glides the Nile: amid the margin-
flags.
Closed in a hulrush ark, the hahe is left,—
Left hy a mother's hand. His sister waits
Far off; and pale, 'tween hope and fear,

heholds
The royal maid, surrounded hy her train,
Approach the river hank,—approach the spot
Where sleeps the innocent; she sees them

stoop With meeting plumes; the rushy lid is oped, And wakes the infant, smiling in his tears:— As when along a little mountain-lake, The summer south-wind hreathes, with gentle

sigh, And parts the reeds unveiling as they hend, A water-lily floating on the wave.

The lowly hush a tree hecame,
A tree of heauty and of light,
Involv'd with unconsuming flame,
That made the moon around it night.

Thence came the eternal voice that spake
Salvation to the chosen seed;
Thence went the Almighty arm, that hrake
Proud Pharaoh's yoke, and Israel freed.

By Moses, old, and slow of speech,
These mighty miracles were shown,
Jehovah's Messenger !—to teach
That power helongs to God alone.

MOSES IN THE DESERT.

Ex. iii.

MONTgOMERY.

Go where a foot hath never trod,
Through unfrequented forests flee;
The wilderness is full of God,
His presence dwells in every tree.

To Israel and to Egypt dead,
Moses the fugitive appears;
Unknown he lived, till o'er his head
Had fall'n the snow of four score years.

But God the wandering exile found
In his appointed time and place;
The desert-sand grew holy ground,
And Horeh's rock a throne of grace.

THE SEVENTH PLAGUE OF EGYPT.

Ex. ix. 22.

'twas morn—the rising splendour roll'd
On marhle towers and roofs of gold;
Hall, court, and gallery helow,
Were crowded with a living flow;
Egyptian, Arah, Nuhian there,
The hearers of the how and spear;
The hoary priest, the Chaldee sage,
The slave, the gemm'd and glitt'ring page-
Helm, turhan, and tiara shone
A dazzling ring round Pharaoh's throne.

There came a man—the human trde
Shrank hackward from his stately stride;
His cheek with storm, and time was tann'd;
A shepherd's staff was in his hand;
A shudder of instinctive fear
Told the dark king what step was near.
On through the host the stranger came,
It parted round his form like flame.

He stoop'd not at the footstool stone,

He clasp'd not sandal, kiss'd not throne;

Erect he stood amid the ring,

His only words—" Be just, O King!"

On Pharaoh's cheek the hlood flash'd higs,

A fire was in his sullen eye;

Yet on the Chief of Israel

No arrow of his thousands fell:

All mute and moveless as the grave

Stood chill'd the satrap and the slave.

** Thou'rt come," at length the monarch

spoke; Haughty and high the words outhroke: '* Is Israel weary of its lair, The forehead peel'd, the shoulder hare ?— Take hack the answer to your hand: Go, reap the wind; go plough the sand; Go, vilest of the living vile, To huild the never-ending pile, Till, darkest of the nameless dead, The vulture on their flesh is fed. What hetter asks the howling slave Than the hase life our hounty gave?"—

Shouted in pride the turhan'd peers, Upclash'd to heaven the golden spears. "King! thou and thine are doom'd 1—

Behold."
The prophet spoke.—The thunder rolFd;
Along the pathway of the sun
Sail'd vaporous mountains, wild and dun.
"Yet there is time," the prophet said—
He rais'd his staff—the storm was stay'd.
"King I he the word of freedom given:
What art thou man, to war with heaven V*

There came no word.—The thunder hroke!
Like a hnge city's final smoke,
Thick, lurid, stifling, mix'd with flame,
Through court and hall the vapours came.
Loose as the stuhhle of the field,
Wide flew the men of spear and shield;
Scatter'd like foam along the wave,
Flew the proud pageant, prince and slave:
Or, in the chains of terror hound,
Lay corpse-like, on the smould'ring ground.
"Speak, King! the wrath is hut hegun—
Still dumh?—then Heaven, thy will he
done."

Echoed from earth a hollow roar,
Like ocean on the midnight shore;
A sheet of lightning o'er them wheel'd.
The solid ground heneath them reel'd;
In dust sank roof and hattlement;
Like wehs the giant-walls were rent;
Red, hroad, hefore his startled gaze,
The monarch saw his Egypt hlaze.
Still swell'd the plague—the flame grew pale;
Burst from the clouds the charge of hail;
With arrowy keenness, iron weight,
Down pour'd the ministers of fate;

Till man and cattle, crush'd, congeal'd,
Cover'd with death the houndless field.

Still swell'd the plague, uprose the hlast,
The avenger, fit to he the last;
On ocean, river, forest, vale,
Thundered at once the mighty gale.
Before the whirlwind flew the tree,
Berieath the whirlwind roar'd the sea:
A thousand ships were on the wave
Where are they?—ask that foaming grave!
Down go the hope, the pride of years,
Down go the myriad mariners;
The riches of earth's richest zone,
Gone! like a flash of lightning, gone!

And, lo! that first fierce triumph o'er,
Swells Ocean on the shrinking shore;
Still onward, onward, dark and wide,
Engulphs the land the furious tide.
Then how'd thy spirit, stuhhorn king,
Thou serpent, reft of fang and sting;
Humhled hefure the prophet's knee,
He groan'd "Be injured Israel free."

To heaven the sage upraised the wand;
Back roll'd the deluge from the land;
Back to its caverns sank the gale;
Fled from the noon the vapours pale;
Broad hurn'd again the joyous sun;
The hour of wrath and death was done.

THE LAST PLAGUE OF EGYPT. Ex. xii. 20,' 30.

When life is forgot, and night hath power,

And mortals feel no dread; When silence and slumher rule the hour,

And dreams are round the head; God shall smite the first-horn of Egypt's race, The destroyer shall enter each dwelling place—

Shall enter and choose his dead.

"To your homes," said the leader of Israel's host, "And slaughter a sacrifice:

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