In each man's breast,

TOLL, THEN, NO MORE !
And let him stand confessed !

Toll for the dead, toll, toll!
Toll ! Roland, toll!

No, no! Ring out, ye bells, ring out and shout. - Not in St. Bavon's tower,

For they the pearly gates have entered in, At midnight hour,

And they no more shall sin, Nor by the Scheldt, nor far off Zuyder Zee;

Ring out, ye bells, ring, ring ! But here, — this side the sea !

Toll for the living, toll ! And here, in broad, bright day!

No, no! Ring out, ye bells, ring out and shout, Toll! Roland, toll !

For they do His work tho'midst toil and din, For not by night awaits

They, too, the goal shall win, —
A brave foe at the gates,
But Treason stalks abroad – inside !- at noon !

Ring out, ye bells, ring, ring!
Toll! Thy alarm is not too soon!

Toll for the coming, toll! To arms! Ring out the Leader's call |

No, no! Ring out, ye bells, ring out and shout, Re-echo it from east to west,

For it is theirs to conquer, theirs to win Till every dauntless breast

The final entering in, Swell beneath plume and crest !

Ring out, ye bells, ring, ring! Till swords from scabbards leap ! - What tears can widows weep

Toll, then, no more, ye bells !

No, no! Ring out, O bells, ring out and shout: Less bitter than when brave men fall ?

The Was, the Is, the Shall Be, and all men Toll! Roland, toll!

Are in His hand ! Amen! Till cottager from cottage wall

Ring out, ye bells, ring, ring! Snatch pouch'and powder-horn and gun,

R. R. BOWKER.
The heritage of sire to son,
Ere half of Freedom's work was done!
Toll! Roland, toll !

CITY BELLS.
Till son, in memory of his sire,
Once more shall load and fire !

FROM THE LAY OF ST. ALOY's.
Toll! Roland, toll!

Loud and clear
Till volunteers find out the art

From the St. Nicholas' tower, on the listening ear, Of aiming at a traitor's heart !

With solemn swell,

The deep-toned bell
Toll! Roland, toll !

Flings to the gale a funeral knell ; - St. Bavon's stately tower

And hark ! — at its sound, Stands to this hour,

As a cunning old hound, And by its side stands Freedom yet in Ghent;

When heopens, atonce causes all the young whelps For when the bells now ring,

Of the cry to put in their less dignified yelps, Men shout, “God save the king!"

So- the ltitle bells all, Until the air is rent!

No matter how small, - Amen! - So let it be ;

From the steeples both inside and outside the wall, For a true king is he

With bell-metal throat
Who keeps his people free.

Respond to the note,
Toll! Roland, toll i

And join the lament that a prelate so pious is This side the sea !

Forced thus to leave his disconsolate diocese, No longer they, but we,

Or, as Blois' Lord May'r
Have now such need of thee!

Is heard to declare,
Toll! Roland, toll!

“Should leave this here world for to go to that And let thy iron tlrroat

there." Ring out its warning note,

RICHARD HARRIS BARUAM. Till Freedom's perils be outbraved, Ard Freedom's flag, wherever waved, Shall overshadow none enslaved ! Toll ! till from either ocean's strand

ŞEVEN TIMES TWO. Brave men shall clasp cach other's hand,

ROMANCE And shout, “God save our native land !” - And love the land which God hath saved !

You bells in the steeple, ring, ring out your Toll! Roland, toll!

changes,
THEODORE TILTON. | How many soever they be,.

over,

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

But with thy bones, and flesh, and limbs, and

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

Tell us - for doubtless thou canst recollect And bells have forgotten their old art. of telling To whom should we assign the Sphinx's fame? The fortune of future days.

| Was Cheops or Cephrenes architect

Of either pyramid that bears his name? “ Turn again, turn again," once they rang cheerily | Is Pompey's Pillar really a misnomer ? While a boy listened alone:

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

Perhaps thou wert a Mason, and forbidden

By oath to tell the secrets of thy trade, Poor bells ! I forgive you ; your good days are

Then say what secret melody was hidden

In Memnon's statue, which at sunrise played ? And mine, they are yet to be;

Perhaps thou wert a priest, --if so, my struggles No listening, no longing, shall aught, aught dis

Are vain, for priestcraft never owns its juggles. cover : You leave the story to me.

JEAN INGELOW. Perhaps that very hand, now pinioned flat,

Has hob-a-nobbed with Pharaoh, glass to glass;

Or dropped a halfpenny in Homer's hat;
OZYMANDIAS OF EGYPT.

Or doffed thine own to let Queen Dido pass;

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 armed,
Half sunk, a shattered -visage lies, whose frown Has any Roman soldier mauled and knuckled ;
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command. For thou wert dead, and buried, and embalmed,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read | Ere Romulus and Remus had been suckled :
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.

fed ; And on the pedestal these words appear:

Thou couldst develop — if that withered tongue “My name is Ozymandias, king of kings : Might tell us what those sightless orbs have Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair !"

seen Nothing beside remains. Round the decay How the world looked when it was fresh and Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,

young, The lone and level sands stretch far away.

And the great deluge still had left it green ; Percy Bysshe SHELLEY. | Or was it then so old that history's pages

Contained no record of its early ages ?

Still silent! incommunicative elf ! ADDRESS TO THE MUMMY AT BEL-| Art sworn to secrecy? then keep thy vows : ZONI'S EXHIBITION. .

But prithee tell us something of thyself, — AND thou hast walked about, (how strange a

Reveal the secrets of thy prison-house ; story !)

Since in the world of spirits thou hast slumIn Thebes's streets three thousand years ago,

bered, — When the Memnonium was in all its glory,

What hast thou seen, — what strange adventures 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 extended

We have, above ground, seen some strange Speak ! for thou long enough hast acted dummy; mutations ; Thou hast a tongue, — come, let us hear its The Roman empire has begun and ended, tune;

New worlds have risen, - we have lost old naThou 'rt standing on thy legs, above ground, tions ; mummy!

And countless kings have into dust been humbled, Revisiting the glimpses of the moon, - | While not a fragment of thy flesh has crumbled. 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, I 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;

These shreds of raven hair once set the fashion ; If its undying guest be lost forever? 0, let us keep the soul embalmed and pure

This withered forın 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,
HORACE SMITH.

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, CHILD of the later days ! thy words have broken

And well-dressed crocodiles in painted cases, 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, I “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 num0, 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.

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

What time Elijah to the skies ascended,
Who hath not heard of Egypt's peerless lore,

| Or David reigned in holy Palestine, . Her patient toil, acuteness of invention ?

Some ancient Theban monarch was extended Survey the proofs, – the pyramids are thriving, Old Memnon still looks young, and I'm surviving.

Beneath the lid of this emblazoned shrine,

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

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

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

To see the car on which thou wert upheld :Temples and obelisks her skill proclaim !

What funeral poinps extended in thy train, Yet though her art and toil unearthly seem,

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

swelled, steam !

As armies, priests, and crowds bewailed in chorus How, when, and why our people came to rear

Their King, - their God, — their Serapis, – their The pyramid of Cheops, - mighty pile?

Orus!
This, and the other secrets, thou shalt hear; Thus to thy second quarry did they trust

I will unfold, if thou wilt stay awhile, | Thee and the Lord of all the nations round. The history of the Sphinx, and who began it, Grim King of Silence ! Monarch of the Dust ! Our mystic works, and monsters made of granite. Embalmed, anointed, jewelled, sceptred,

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

A leathern Pharaoh grinning in the dark. But ah ! — What's this! the shades of bards and kings

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

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 last,

ANONYMOUS. Just dropped its dust upon thy lid — and passed.

The Persian conqueror o'er Egypt poured

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

Music and men of every sound and hue, | Priests, archers, eunuchs, concubines, and brutes,

Gongs, trumpets, cymbals, dulcimers, and lutes. Thou alabaster relic ! while I hold

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

The ponderous rock that scaled the sacred tomb; Let me recall the scenes thou couldst unfold,

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

Redeem thee from long centuries of gloom, known, For thou wert primitive in thy formation,

And lowered torches flashed against thy side Launched from the Almighty's hand at the Crea

As Asia's king thy blazoned trophies eyed. tion.

Plucked from his grave, with sacrilegious taunt,

The features of the royal corpse they scanned :Yes, - thou wert present when the stars and skies | Dashing the diadem from his temple gaunt,

And worldsunnumbered rolled into their places; ! They tore the sceptre from his graspless hand, When God from Chaos bade the spheres arise,

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

Unclosed the sepulchre with cunning skill, 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 thy third darkness came, and thou didst sleep

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

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,