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In each man's breast,
And let him stand confessed !

Toll ! Roland, toll !
- Not in St. Bavon's tower,
At midnight hour,
Nor by the Scheldt, nor far off Zuyder Zee ;
But here, this side the sea !
And here, in broad, bright day !

Toll! Roland, toll !
For not by night awaits
A brave foe at the gates,
But Treason stalks abroad -- inside !- at noon !
Toll! Thy alarm is not too soon!
To arms! Ring out the Leader's call !
Re-echo it from east to west,
Till every dauntless breast
Swell beneath plume and crest !
Till swords from scabbards leap !

What tears can widows weep
Less bitter than when brave men fall ?

Toll! Roland, toll !
Till cottager from cottage wall
Snatch pouch and powder-horn and gun,
The heritage of sire to son,
Ere half of Freedom's work was done!

Toll! Roland, toll !
Till son, in memory of his sire,
Once more shall load and fire !

Toll! Roland, toll!
Till volunteers find out the art
Of aiming at a traitor's heart !

Toll! Roland, toll!
- St. Baron's stately tower
Stands to this hour,
And by its side stands Freedom yet in Ghent;

For when the bells now ring,

Men shout, “God save the king !"
Until the air is rent !
- Amen! - So let it be ;
For a true king is he
Who keeps his people free.

Toll! Roland, toll !
This side the sea !
No longer they, but we,
Have now such need of thec!

Toll! Roland, toll !
And let thy iron throat
Ring out its warning note,
Till Freedom's perils be outbraved,
And Freedom's flag, wherever waved,
Shall overshadow none enslaved !
Toll! till from either ocean's strand
Brave men shall clasp each other's hand,
And shout, “God save our native land !"
- And love the land which God hath saved !

Toll! Roland, toll!

TOLL, THEN, NO MORE!

Toll for the dead, toll, toll !
No, no! Ring out, ye bells, ring out and shout.

For they the pearly gates have entered in,
And they no more shall sin, -

Ring out, ye bells, ring, ring!

Toll for the living, toll !
No, no! Ring out, ye bells, ring out and shout,

For they do His work tho'midst toil and din,
They, too, the goal shall win,

Ring out, ye bells, ring, ring!

Toll for the coming, toll !
No, no! Ring out, ye bells, ring out and shout,

For it is theirs to conquer, theirs to win
The final entering in,

Ring out, ye bells, ring, ring!

Toll, then, no more, ye bells !
No, no! Ring out, O bells, ring out and shout:

The Was, the Is, the Shall Be, and all men
Are in His hand! Amen!

Ring out, ye bells, ring, ring !

R. R. BOWKER.

CITY BELLS.

FROM THE LAY OF ST. ALOY's.

Loud and clear From the St. Nicholas' tower, on the listening ear,

With solemn swell,

The deep-toned bell
Flings to the gale a funeral knell;

And hark ! – at its sound,

As a cunning old hound, When he opens, atonce causes all the young whelps Of the cry to put in their less dignified yelps,

So— the Ititle bells all,

No matter how small, From the steeples both inside and outside the wall,

With bell-metal throat

Respond to the note,
And join the lament that a prelate so pious is
Forced thus to leave his disconsolate diocese,

Or, as Blois' Lord May'r

Is heard to declare, “Should leave this here world for to go to that

there."

RICHARD HARRIS BARUAM.

SEVEN TIMES TWO.

ROMANCE.

You bells in the steeple, ring, ring out your

changes, How many socver they bc,

THEODORE TILTON.

And let the brown meadow-lark's note as he ranges | Not like thin ghosts or disembodied crea Come over, come over to me.

But with thy bones, and flesh, and lim

features. Yet birds' clearest carol by fall or by swelling No magical sense conveys,

Tell us

for doubtless thou canst recoll And bells have forgotten their old art of telling To whom should we assign the Sphinx The fortune of future days.

Was Cheops or Cephrenes architect “Turn again, turn again,” once they rangcheerily Is Pompey's Pillar really a misnomer?

Of either pyramid that bears his name While a boy listened alone :

Had Thebes a hundred gates, as sung by Made his heart yearn again, musing so wearily All by himself on a stone.

Perhaps thou wert a Mason, and forbidd Poor bells ! I forgive you ; your good days are

By oath to tell the secrets of thy trad

Then say what secret melody was hiddel over,

In Memnon's statue, which at suurise And mine, they are yet to bc ; No listening, no longing, shall aught, aught dis- Perhaps thou wert a priest

, – if so, my

Are vain, for priesteraft never owns its You leave the story to me.

JEAN INGELOW. Perhaps that very hand, now pinioned f

Has hob-a-nobbed with Pharaoh, glass Or dropped a halfpenny in Homer's hat

Or dotsed thine own to let Queen Did OZYMANDIAS OF EGYPT.

Or held, by Solomon's own invitation, I MET a traveller from an antique land

A torch at the great temple's dedication Who said : Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,

I need not ask thee if that hand, when Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown Has any Roman soldier mauled and ki And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command

For thou wert dead, and buried, and en Tell that its sculptor well those passions read

Ere Romulus and Remus had been su Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, Antiquity appears to have begun The hand that mocked them and the heart that long after thy primeval race was run.

cover:

fed ;

And on the pedestal these words appear :
My name is Ozymandias, king of kings :
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair !"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away.

Thou couldst develop – if that withere
Might tell us what those sightless o

seen -
How the world looked when it was fl

young,
And the great deluge still had left it
Or was it then so old that history's pay
Contained no record of its early ages ?

PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.

Still silent! incommunicative elf ! ADDRESS TO THE MUMMY AT BEL

Art sworn to secrecy ? then keep thy ZONI'S EXHIBITION. .

But prithee tell us something of thyseli And thou hast walked about, (how strange a

Reveal the secrets of thy prison-hous

Since in the world of spirits thou hi story !) In Thebes's streets three thousand years ago,

bered, When the Memnonium was in all its glory,

What hast thou seen, — what strange ad And time had not begun to overthrow

numbered ? Those temples, palaces, and piles stupendous, Of which the very ruins are tremendous.

Since first thy form was in this box ext

We have, above ground, seen som Speak ! for thou long enough hast acted dummy; mutations ; Thou hast a tongue, come, let us hear its The Roman empire has begun and ende New worlds have risen,

we have lo Thou 'rt standing on thy legs, above ground, tions ; mummy!

And countless kings have into dust been Revisiting the glimpses of the moon, While not a fragment of thy flesh has c

tune;

Didst thou not hear the pother o'er thy head, All that I know about the town of Homer

When the great Persian conqueror, Cambyses, Is that they scarce would own him in his day, Marched armies o'er thy tomb with thundering Were glad, too, when he proudly turned a roamer, tread,

Because by this they saved their parish pay. O'erthrew Osiris, Orus, Apis, Isis ;

His townsmen would have been ashamed to flout And shook the pyramids with fear and wonder, him, When the gigantic Memnon fell asunder ? Had they foreseen the fuss since made about him. If the tomb's secrets may not be confessed,

One blunder I can fairly set at rest :. The nature of thy private life unfold :

He says that men were once more big and bony A heart has throbbed beneath that leathern Than now, which is a bouncer at the best ; breast,

I'll just refer you to our friend Belzoni, And tears adown that dusty cheek have rolled ; Near seven feet high ; in truth a lofty figure. Have children climbed those knees, and kissed Now look at me, and tell me, - am I bigger ?

that face? What was thy name and station, age and race ?

Not half the size, but then I'm sadly dwindled,

Three thousand years with that embalming glue Statue of flesh, — immortal of the dead ! Have made a serious difference, and have swindled Imperishable type of evanescence !

My face of all its beauty ; there were few Posthumous man, — who quit'st thy narrow bed, Egyptian youths more gay, — behold the sequel.

And standest undecayed within our presence ! Nay, smile not; you and I may soon be equal. Thou wilt hear nothing till the judgment morning,

For this lean hand did one day hurl the lance When the great trump shall thrill thee with its

With mortal aim ; this light, fantastic toe warning.

Threaded the mystic mazes of the dance ; Why should this worthless tegument endure,

This heart has throbbed at tales of love and woe; If its undying guest be lost forever ?

These shreds of raven hair once set the fashion ; 0, let us keep the soul embalmed and pure

This withered forin inspired the tender passion. In living virtue, — that when both must sever, In vain ; the skilful hand and feelings warm, Although corruption may our frame consume,

The foot that figured in the bright quadrille, The immortal spirit in the skies may bloom !

The palm of genius and the manly form,

All bowed at once to Death's mysterious will, Who sealed me up where mummies sound are

sleeping, ANSWER OF THE MUMMY AT BELZO. In cerecloth and in tolerable keeping; NI'S EXHIBITION.

Where cows and monkeys squat in rich brocade,

And well-dressed crocodiles in painted cases, Child of the later days ! thy words have broken

A spell that long has bound these lungs of clay, Rats, bats, and owls, and cats in masquerade, For since this smoke-dried tongue of mine hath

With scarlet flounces, and with varnished faces; spoken

Then birds, brutes, reptiles, fish, all crammed Three thousand tedious years have rolled away.

together, Unswathed at length, 1 "stand at ease ” before ye. With ladies that might pass for well-tanned List, then, O list, while I unfold my story.

leather ;

Where Rameses and Sabacon lie down, Thebes was my birthplace, - an unrivalled city And splendid Psammis in his hide of crust,

With many gates, – but here I might declare Princes and heroes, — men of high renown, Some strange, plain truths, except that it were pity Who in their day kicked up a mighty dust. To blow a poet's fabric into air ;

Their swarthy mummies kicked up dust in num. 0, I could read you quite a Theban lecture,

ber, And give a deadly finish to conjecture.

When huge Belzoni came to scare their slumber. But then you would not have me throw discredit Who'd think these rusty hams of mine were seated

On grave historians, - or on him who sung At Dido's table, when the wondrous tale The Iliad, — true it is I never read it,

Of “ Juno's hatred" was so well repeated ? But heard it read, when I was very young. And ever and anon the Queen turned pale. An old blind minstrel for a trifling profit Meanwhile the brilliant gaslights hung above her Recited parts, -- I think the author of it. Threw a wild glare upon her shipwrecked lover.

HORACE SMITH.

Ay, gaslights ! Mock me not, we men of yore | Till thou wert carved and decorated thu Were versed in all the knowledge you can men. Worthy to be a king's sarcophagus.

tion; Who hath not heard of Egypt's peerless lore,

What time Elijah to the skies ascended

Or David reigned in holy Palestine, Her patient toil, acuteness of invention ? Survey the proofs, the pyramids are thriving, Some ancient Theban monarch was exte

Beneath the lid of this emblazoned st Old Memnon still looks young, and I'm surviving.

And to that subterranean palace borne A land in arts and sciences prolific,

Which toiling ages in the rock had wor O block gigantic, building up her fame,

Thebes from her hundred portals filled Crowded with signs and letters hieroglyphic,

To see the car on which thou wert uj Temples and obelisks her skill proclaim ! Yet though her art and toil unearthly seem,

What funeral poinps extended in thy ti

What banners waved, what might Those blocks were brought on railroads and by

swelled, steam!

Is armies, priests, and crowds bewailed How, when, and why our people came to rear

Their King, — their God, - their Serapi

Orus! The pyramid of Cheops, – mighty pile ? — This, and the other secrets, thou shalt hear; Thus to thy second quarry did they tru I will unfold, if thou wilt stay awhile,

Thee and the Lord of all the nations The history of the Sphinx, and who began it,

Grim King of Silence ! Monarch of th Our mystic works, and monsters made of granito. Embalmed, anointed, jewelled,

crowned, Well, then, in grievous times, when King Ce. Here did he lie in state, cold, stiff, and phrenes,

A leathern Pharaoh grinning in the dai But ah ! - What's this! the shades of bards and kings

Thus ages rolled, but their dissolving b Press on my lips their fingers! What they mean is, Could only blacken that imprisoned

I am not to reveal these hidden things. Which wore a ghastly royalty in death, Mortal, farewell! Till Science' self unbind them, As if it struggled still to be a king ; Men must e'en take these secrets as they find them. And each revolving century, like the la

Just dropped its dust upon thy lid - a
The Persian conqueror o'er Egypt poure

His devastating host, -a motley crer ADDRESS TO THE ALABASTER SAR- Thesteel-clad horseman,--the barbarian COPHAGUS

Music and men of every sound and h Priests, archers, eunuchs, concubines, and

Gongs, trumpets, cymbals, dulcimers, i Tuou alabaster relic ! while I hold

Then did the fierce Cambyses tear away My hand upon thy sculptured margin thrown,

The ponderous rock that sealed the sac Let me recall the scenes thou couldst unfold,

Then did the slowly penetrating ray Mightst thou relate the changes thou hast

Redeem thec from long centuries of & known,

And lowered torches flashed against thy For thou wert primitive in thy formation, Launched from the Almighty's hand at the Crea

As Asia's king thy blazoned trophies e tion.

Plucked from his grave, with sacrilegio

The features of the royal corpse they sca Yes, – thou wert present when the stars and skies Dashing the diadem from his temple ga

And worlds unnumbered rolled into their places ; They tore the sceptre from his graspl When God from Chao3 bade the spheres arise,

And on those fields, where once his will And fixed the blazing sun upon its basis, Left him for winds to waste and beasts And with his finger on the bounds of space Marked out each planet's everlasting race. Some pious Thebans, when the storm w

Unclosed the sepulchre with cunning How many thousand ages from thy birth And nature, aiding their devotion, cast

Thou slept'st in darkness, it were vain to ask, Over its entrance a concealing rill. Till Egypt's sons upheaved thee from the earth, Then thythird darkness came, and thoud

And year by year pursued their patient task ; Twenty-three centuries in silence deep.

ANONYMOUS.

anc

LATELY DEPOSITED IN THE BRITISH MUSEUM.

HORACE SMITH.

But he from whom nor pyramid nor Sphinx The dancing pair that simply sought renown,

Can hide its secrecies, Belzoni, came; By holding out, to tire each other down; From the tomb's mouth unloosed the granite links, The swain inistrustless of his smutted face,

Gave thee again to light and life and fame. While secret laughter tittered round the place ;
And brought thee from the sands and desert forth The bashful virgin's sidelong looks of love,
To charm the pallid children of the North. The matron's glance that would those looks re-

prove, — Thou art in London, which, when thou wert new, These were thy charms, sweet village ! sports like

Was, what Thebes is, a wilderness and waste, these. Where savage beasts more savage men pursue, — With sweet succession, taught e'en toil to please :

A scene by nature cursed, — by man disgraced. These round thy bowers their cheerful influence Now— 't is the world's metropolis -- the high

shed, Queen of arms, learning, arts, and luxury. These were thy charms, but all these charms Here, where I hold my hand, 't is strange to think

are fled ! What other hands perchance preceded mine;

Sweet smiling village, loveliest of the lawn, Others have also stood beside thy brink,

' Thy sports are fled, and all thy charms withdrawn; And vainly conned the moralizing line.

Amidst thy bowers the tyrant's hand is seen, Kings, sages, chiefs, that touched this stone, like

And desolation saddens all thy green ; me,

One only master grasps the whole domain, Where are ye now?—where all must shortly be !

And half a tillage stints thy smiling plain ;

No more thy glassy brook reflects the day, All is mutation ;-he within this stone

But, choked with sedges, works its weedy way; Was once the greatest monarch of the hour: Along thy glades, a solitary guest, His bones are dust, - his very name unknown. The hollow-sounding bittern guards its nest; Go,- learn from him the vanity of power :

Amidst thy desert walks the lapwing flies,
Seek not the frame's corruption to control, And tires their echoes with unvaried cries.
But build a lasting mansion for thy soul. Sunk are thy bowers in shapeless ruin all,

And the long grass o'ertops the mouldering wall,
And, trembling, shrinking from the spoiler's hand,

Far, far away thy children leave the land.
THE DESERTED VILLAGE.

Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey,

Where wealth accumulates and men decay : SWEET Auburn ! loveliest village of the plain, Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade; Where health and plenty cheered the laboring A breath can make them, as a breath has made ; swain,

| But a bold peasantry, their country's pride, Where smiling spring its earliest visit paid, When once destroyed, can never be supplied. And parting summer's lingering blooms delayed. A time there was, ere England's griefs began, Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease, When every rood of ground maintained its man ; Seats of my youth, when every sport could please, For him light Labor spread her wholesome store, How often have I loitered o'er thy green, Just gave what life required, but gave no more : Where humble happiness endeared each scene ! | His best companions, innocence and health ; How often have I paused on every charm, And his best riches, ignorance of wealth. The sheltered cot, the cultivated farm,

But times are altered ; trade's unfeeling train The never-failing brook, the busy mill,

Usurp the land and dispossess the swain ; The decent church that topped the neighboring Along the lawn, where scattered hamlets rose, hill,

Unwieldy wealth and cumberous pomp repose, The hawthorn bush, with seats beneath the shade, And every want to luxury allied, For talking age and whispering lovers made ! : And cvery pang that folly pays to pride. How often have I blessed the coming day, Those gentle hours that plenty bade to bloom, When toil remitting lent its turn to play, Those calm desires that asked but little room, And all the village train, from labor free, Those healthful sports that graced the peaceful Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree,

scene, While many a pastime circled in the shade, Lived in each look, and brightened all the green,The young contending as the old surveyed ; These, far departing, seek a kinder shore, And many a gambol frolicked o'er the ground, And rural mirth and manners are no more. And sleights of artand feats of strength went round; And still as each repeated pleasure tired, | Sweet was the sound, when oft, at evening's Succeeding sports the mirthful band inspired; I close,

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