On wheels that grate and burn, drives to and

fro,

Across and re-across the heart of battle.

The body of each army has been pierced

With the straight-forward and destroying stroke
Of two-edged lightnings; and the wings of
both

Have by unsparing thunderbolts been stript
Of all the plumes of pride. The heads of each
Bid dying farewells to the storms of life,
To the dispersing clouds of fire and brimstone,
And to the shining sun. There is but one-
One only left alive; and such his state,
Now that the strong excitement has subsided,
That hardly can he reach a place to rest;
And having reached one, may not rest in peace.
For, in his dream, again returns the battle;
The lightning and the thunder of the cannon;
The hissing of the bullet and the ball;

The charge; the silence; and the awful end.

And now the mocking form of Victory
Approacheth him,--because that he alone,
Of both the hosts,

left,-approacheth him

And saith," The palm, Victor,

thine!"

the palm is

And still the sun shines brightly as before.

PART IV.

THE ARGUMENT.-The vision of the sun continued. How night is useful. Song of peace and war. Night that cometh not-how remembered. The end of joys that were. The days of Spring and Summer.

Why comes the Tide of Even? See'st thou not,
That had the sun but set, as in the time

When there were nights, as well as days, on earth,—
That is, before this vision,-then, at eve,

The angel of reflection could have come,
And, with the spirit of persuasion calm,
Proved unto those who then alive remain'd,

That it were well the horrid war should end,
And that there should be peace? But no eve came,
And so, save one, all fell. Hark! even he—
Returning from the ruin of the battle—

He, whom the mocking form, in words of dream,
Hail'd as the victor, even he, now sings,-

O! peace is a blessing

Well worth the possessing,

And, for it, men much might afford!

It means preservation,

It yields consolation,—

"Give peace in our time, O Lord."

But battle disburses,

For services, curses!

How sad the success of the sword!
Its gleaming and glory,

Are mournful and gory ;

"Give peace in our time, O Lord."

O! peace is a pleasure,

A national treasure,
A palace with life-jewels stored;

A wealth-laden river,

That faileth not ever!-
Give peace in our time, O Lord."

But war is the sorrow

That cometh to borrow

The wealth that will not be restored!

A monster of terror,

The offspring of error ;

"Give peace in our time, O Lord."

O! peace is a fountain

Of gain from a mountain, Far higher than eagle e'er soared! Like light it is given;

It cometh from heaven ;

"Give peace in our time, O Lord."

But war drinketh gain, O,
Like burning volcano;

And, like unto lava outpoured,
So riseth that mar-path

Of life, the red war-wrath!— "Give peace in our time, O Lord.”

When earth has repented

Of war, and consented

To sheathe, and for ever, the sword;
O then for a story

Of gladness and glory!—

"Give peace in our time, O Lord."

But still,-in this our vision,-still the sun Shineth with summer splendour as before! Yet we remember how he once went down, After his cheerful journey round about us, From East to West in sky of blue and cloud; And O, divinely on the clouds he gazed, That blushed in honour of his setting smile, Like modest maiden parting from her lover, Who leaves her with a kiss.

Oh, as the heart

Remembers what was loved with fervent love

In other times when life was truly blest;

When what we had not, never woke the thought That we might want it in the days to come; When we were sure that just as much of heaven, The heaven of happiness, was round about us, As shut out wish for aught on earth beside,— Was round about us lovingly and warm; Not as a thing on which we could but look, Having no hand or ownership therein, But as a clear and holy overflowing,

From the full fountain of our love-filled being,
Pure as the light of God;-Oh, as the heart
Remembers such sweet hours that come no more,
So do we now in fond remembrance hold

The blessings of the sunsets that once were;
But still the vision burns!

It is not well,~

Not well the Tide of Even does not come ;
Not well for youth, for manhood, or for age;
Not well, as surely it would not be well
If thirst came never with its timely warning,
Saying "Thou wantest water, therefore drink;"
Or if the voice of hunger did not come
With well-timed admonition, wisely saying,
"Receive the bread thou hast by labour earned,
For it is needful to thy strength and life;"

Or if no monitor came ever near

To tell how frost will kill, and fire consume;

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