All helplessness, all weakness, I

On Thee alone for strength depend; Nor have I power from Thee to move; Thy nature and thy Name is Love.

Lame as I am, 1 take the prey,

Hell, earth, and sin, with ease o'ercome;

I leap for joy, pursue my way,

And, as a bounding hart, fly home;

Through all eternity to prove,

Thy nature and thy Name is Love!

Charles Wesley.

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PART THE FOURTH.

CLXX

TO THE CUCKOO.

O blithe new-comer! I have heard,
I hear thee and rejoice :

O Cuckoo! shall I call thee bird,
Or but a wandering Voice?

While I am lying on the grass,
Thy twofold shout I hear;

From hill to hill it seems to pass,
At once far off and near.

Though babbling only to the vale
Of sunshine and of flowers,

Thou bringest unto me a tale

Of visionary hours.

Thrice welcome, darling of the Spring!

Even yet thou art to me

No bird, but an invisible thing,

A voice, a mystery ;

The same whom in my school-boy days
I listened to; that Cry

Which made me look a thousand ways
In bush, and tree, and sky.

To seek thee did I often rove

Through woods and on the green;
And thou wert still a hope, a love;
Still longed for, never seen!

5

ΙΟ

15

20

And I can listen to thee yet;

Can lie upon the plain

And listen, till I do beget

That golden time again.

O blessed bird! the earth we pace

Again appears to be

An unsubstantial, fairy place

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30

That is fit home for thee!

William Wordsworth.

CLXXI

THE RAINBOW.

Triumphal arch that fill'st the sky,
When storms prepare to part,
I ask not proud Philosophy
To teach me what thou art.

Still seem, as to my childhood's sight,
A mid-way station given

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For happy spirits to alight,

Betwixt the earth and heaven.

Can all that optics teach, unfold

Thy form to please me so,

As when I dreamed of gems and gold
Hid in thy radiant bow?

ΙΟ

When Science from Creation's face
Enchantment's veil withdraws,

What lovely visions yield their place
To cold material laws!

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And yet, fair bow, no fabling dreams,
But words of the Most High,

Have told why first thy robe of beams
Was woven in the sky..

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When o'er the green undeluged earth,
Heaven's covenant thou didst shine,

How came the world's gray fathers forth
To watch thy sacred sign!

And when its yellow lustre smiled

O'er mountains yet untrod,

Each mother held aloft her child

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For, faithful to its sacred page,
Heaven still rebuilds thy span,
Nor lets the type grow pale with age,
That first spoke peace to man.

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Thomas Campbell.

CLXXII

THE COMMON LOT.

Once, in the flight of ages past,

There lived a man:-and WHO was HE?—
Mortal! howe'er thy lot be cast,

That Man resembled thee.

Unknown the region of his birth,

The land in which he died unknown :
His name has perished from the earth;
This truth survives alone :-
--

That joy and grief, and hope and fear,
Alternate triumphed in his breast;
His bliss and woe,-a smile, a tear!—
Oblivion hides the rest.

The bounding pulse, the languid limb,
The changing spirits' rise and fall,
We know that these were felt by him,
For these are felt by all.

He suffered, but his pangs are o'er;
Enjoyed, but his delights are fled;

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ΙΟ

15

Had friends, his friends are now no more;
And foes,-his foes are dead.

20

He loved,—but whom he loved, the grave
Hath lost in its unconscious womb :
Oh she was fair!—but nought could save
Her beauty from the tomb.

He saw whatever thou hast seen;
Encountered all that troubles thee:
He was whatever thou hast been;
He is what thou shalt be.

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