Give him the nectar!

Pour out for the poet!

Hebe! pour free!

Quicken his eyes with celestial dew,

That Styx the detested no more he may view,
And like one of us gods may conceit him to be!
Thanks, Hebe! I quaff it! Io Pæan, I cry!
The wine of the Immortals
Forbids me to die!

ELEGY,

IMITATED FROM ONE OF AKENSIDE'S BLANK-VERSE

INSCRIPTIONS.

EAR the lone pile with ivy overspread, Fast by the rivulet's sleep-persuading sound,

Where "sleeps the moonlight" on yon

verdant bed

O humbly press that consecrated ground!

For there does Edmund rest, the learned swain! And there his spirit most delights to rove: Young Edmund! famed for each harmonious strain, And the sore wounds of ill-requited love.

Like some tall tree that spreads its branches wide,
And loads the west-wind with its soft perfume,
His manhood blossomed; till the faithless pride
Of fair Matilda sank him to the tomb.

But soon did righteous heaven her guilt pursue! Where'er with wildered steps she wandered pale, Still Edmund's image rose to blast her view,

Still Edmund's voice accused her in each gale.

With keen regret, and conscious guilt's alarms,
Amid the pomp of affluence she pined;
Nor all that lured her faith from Edmund's arms
Could lull the wakeful horror of her mind.

Go, Traveller! tell the tale with sorrow fraught:
Some tearful maid perchance, or blooming youth,
May hold it in remembrance; and be taught
That riches cannot pay for Love or Truth.

THE DESTINY OF NATIONS.

A VISION.

USPICIOUS Reverence! Hush all meaner song,

Ere we the deep preluding strain have
poured

To the Great Father, only rightful King,
Eternal Father! King Omnipotent!
Beneath Whose shadowy banners, wide unfurled,
Justice leads forth her tyrant-quelling hosts.

Such symphony requires best instrument. Seize, then, my soul! from Freedom's trophied dome The harp which hangeth high between the shields Of Brutus and Leonidas: With that

Strong music, that soliciting spell, force back Earth's free and stirring spirit that lies entranced.

For what is freedom, but the unfettered use Of all the powers which God for use had given? But chiefly this, Him first, Him last to view Through meaner powers and secondary things Effulgent, as through clouds that veil His blaze. For all that meets the bodily sense I deem

Symbolical, one mighty alphabet

For infant minds; and we in this low world
Placed with our backs to bright reality,

That we may learn with young unwounded ken
The substance from its shadow. Infinite Love,
Whose latence is the plenitude of all,

Thou with retracted beams, and self-eclipse
Veiling revealest thy eternal sun.

But some there are who deem themselves most free When they within this gross and visible sphere Chain down the winged thought, scoffing ascent Proud in their meanness: and themselves they cheat With noisy emptiness of learned phrase, Their subtle fluids, impacts, essences, Self-working tools, uncaused effects, and all Those blind omniscients, those almighty slaves, Untenanting creation of its God.

But properties are God: the naked mass (If mass there be, fantastic guess or ghost) Acts only by its inactivity.

Here we pause humbly. Others boldlier think
That as one body seems the aggregate
Of atoms numberless, each organized;
So by a strange and dim similitude
Infinite myriads of self-conscious minds
Are one all-conscious Spirit, which informs
With absolute ubiquity of thought
(His one eternal self-affirming act!)
All his involved Monads, that yet seem
With various province and apt agency
Each to pursue its own self-centering end,
Some nurse the infant diamond in the mine;

Some roll the genial juices through the oak;
Some drive the mutinous clouds to clash in air,
And rushing on the storm with whirlwind speed,
Yoke the red lightnings to their volleying car.
Thus these pursue their never-varying course,
No eddy in their stream. Others, more wild,
With complex interests weaving human fates,
Duteous or proud, alike obedient all,
Evolve the process of eternal good.

And what if some rebellious, o'er dark realms
Arrogate power? yet these train up to God,
And on the rude eye, unconfirmed for day,
Flash meteor-lights better than total gloom.
As ere from Lieule-Oaive's vapoury head
The Laplander beholds the far-off sun
Dart his slant beam on unobeying snows,
While yet the stern and solitary night
Brooks no alternate sway, the Boreal Morn
With mimic lustre substitutes its gleam,
Guiding his course or by Niemi lake
Or Balda-Zhiok,* or the mossy stone
Of Solfar-Kapper, † while the snowy blast
Drifts arrowy by, or eddies round his sledge,
Making the poor babe at its mother's back

*Balda Zhiok: i. e. mons altitudinis, the highest mountain in Lapland.

"Solfa-Kapper: capitium Solfar, hic locus omnium quotquot veterum Lapponum superstitio sacrificiis religiosoque cultui dedicavit, celebratissimus erat, in parte sinus australis situs, semimilliaris spatio a mari distans. Ipse locus, quem curiositatis gratia aliquando me invisisse memini, duabus prealtis lapidibus, sibi invicem oppositis, quorum alter musco circumdatus erat, constabat."-LEEMIUS, De Lapponibus.

The Lapland women carry their infants at their back in a piece of excavated wood, which serves them for a cradle. Opposite to the infant's mouth there is a hole for it to breathe

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