'ROOM for the leper! room!' And, as he came,
The cry pass'd on, Room for the leper, room!'
'Room for the leper!' And aside they stood,
Matron and child, and pitiless manhood, all
Who met him on his way, and let him pass.
And onward through the open gate he came,
A leper with the ashes on his brow,
Sackcloth about his loins, and on his lip
A covering, stepping painfully and slow,
And with a difficult utterance, like one
Whose heart is with an iron nerve put down,
Crying, 'Unclean! unclean!'
And eminently beautiful, and life
Mantled in eloquent fulness on his lip,
And sparkled in his giance; and in his mien
There was a gracious pride that every eye
Follow'd with benisons-and this was he!
With the soft airs of summer there had come
A torpor on his frame, which not the speed
Of his best barb, nor music, nor the blast
Of the bold huntsman's horn, nor aught that stirs
The spirit to its bent, might drive away.
The blood beat not as wont within his veins ;
Dimness crept o'er his eye, a drowsy sloth
Fetter'd his limbs like palsy, and his mien,
With all its loftiness, seem'd struck with eld:
Even his voice was changed, a languid moan
Taking the place of the clear silver key;
And brain and sense grew faint, as if the light
And very air were steep'd in sluggishness.
He strove with it a while, as manhood will,
Ever too proud for weakness, till the rein
Slacken'd within his grasp, and in its poise
The arrowy jereed like an aspen shook.
Day after day he lay as if in sleep;
His skin grew dry and bloodless, and white scales
Circled with livid purple cover'd him.
And then his nails grew black, and fell away
From the dull flesh about them, and the hues
Deepen'd beneath the hard, unmoisten'd scales,
And from their edges grew the rank white hair-
And Helon was a leper!
Day was breaking,
When at the altar of the temple stood
The holy priest of God. The incense lamp
Burn'd with a struggling light, and a low chant
Swell'd through the hollow arches of the roof
Like an articulate wail, and there, alone,
Wasted to ghastly thinness, Helon knelt.
The echoes of the melancholy strain
Died in the distant aisle, and he rose up,
'Wet not thy burning lip
In streams that to a human dwelling glide;
Nor rest thee where the covert fountains hide;
Nor kneel thee down to dip
The water where the pilgrim bends to drink,
By desert well or river's grassy brink;
'And pass thou not between
That weary traveller and the cooling breeze;
And lie not down to sleep beneath the trees
Where human tracks are seen;
Nor milk the goat that browseth on the plain,
Nor pluck the standing corn, or yellow grain.
'And now depart! and when
Thy heart is heavy, and thine eyes are dim,
Lift up thy prayer beseechingly to Him
Who, from the tribes of men,
Selected thee to feel His chastening rod.
Depart, O leper! and forget not God!'
And he went forth alone! not one of all
The many whom he loved, nor she whose name
Was woven in the fibres of the heart
Breaking within him now, to come and speak
Comfort unto him. Yea; he went his way,
Sick, and heart-broken, and alone-to die!
For God had cursed the leper!
It was noon,
And Helon knelt beside a stagnant pool
In the lone wilderness, and bathed his brow,
Hot with the burning leprosy, and touch'd
The loathsome water to his fever'd lips,
Praying that he might be so blest, to die!
Footsteps approach'd, and with no strength to flee,
He drew the covering closer to his lip,
Crying 'Unclean! unclean!' and in the folds
Struggling with weakness, and bow'd down his Of the coarse sackcloth shrouding up his face,
Unto the sprinkled ashes, and put off
His costly raiment for the leper's garb;
And with the sackcloth round him, and his lip
Hid in a loathsome covering, stood still,
Waiting to hear his doom:
'Depart! depart, O child
Of Israel, from the temple of thy God!
For He has smote thee with His chastening rod;
And to the desert wild,
From all thou lov'st, away thy feet must flee,
That from thy plague His people may be free.
'Depart, and come not near
The busy mart, the crowded city, more,
Nor set thy foot a human threshold o'er,
And stay thou not to hear
Voices that call thee in the way; and fly
From all who in the wilderness pass by.
He fell upon the earth till they should pass.
Nearer the Stranger came, and bending o'er
The leper's prostrate form, pronounced his name:
'Helon!' The voice was like the master-tone
Of a rich instrument, most strangely sweet;
And the dull pulses of disease awoke,
And for a moment beat beneath the hot
And leprous scales with a restoring thrill.
'Helon, arise!' and he forgot his curse,
And rose and stood before Him.
Mingled in the regard of Helon's eye
As he beheld the Stranger. He was not
In costly raiment clad, nor on His brow
The symbol of a princely lineage wore ;
No followers at His back, nor in His hand
Buckler, or sword, or spear; yet in His mien
Command sat throned serene, and if He smiled,
A kingly condescension graced His lips,
The lion would have couch'd to in his lair.
His garb was simple, and His sandals worn;
His stature modell'd with a perfect grace;
His countenance the impress of a God,
Touch'd with the open innocence of a child;
His eye was blue and calm, as is the sky
In the serenest noon; His hair unshorn
Fell to His shoulders; and His curling beard
The fulness of perfected manhood bore.
He look'd on Helon earnestly a while,
As if His heart were moved, and, stooping down,
He took a little water in His hand
And laved the sufferer's brow, and said, 'Be clean!'
And lo! the scales fell from him, and his blood
Coursed with delicious coolness through his veins,
And his dry palms grew moist, and on his lips
The dewy softness of an infant's stole.
His leprosy was cleansed, and he fell down
Prostrate at Jesus' feet and worshipp'd Him.
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TRUE liberty was Christian, sanctified,
Baptized, and found in Christian hearts alone.
First-born of Virtue, daughter of the skies,
Nursling of Truth divine; sister of all
The graces, meekness, holiness, and love :
Giving to God, and man, and all below,
That symptom show'd of sensible existence,
Their due unask'd; fear to whom fear was due ;
To all, respect, benevolence, and love.
Companion of religion! where she came
There freedom came; where dwelt, there freedom dwelt ;
Ruled where she ruled, expired where she expired.
'He was the freeman whom the truth made free :'
Who first of all the bands of Satan broke;
Who broke the bands of Sin; and for his soul
In spite of fools consulted seriously;
In spite of fashion persevered in good ;
In spite of wealth or poverty, upright;
Who did as reason, not as fancy bade;
Who heard temptation sing, and yet turn'd not
Aside; saw Sin bedeck her flowery bed,
And yet would not go up; felt at his heart
The sword unsheathed, yet would not sell the truth;
Who, having power, had not the will to hurt ;
Who blush'd alike to be or have a slave;
Who blush'd at nought but sin, fear'd nought but God;
Who finally, in strong integrity
Of soul, 'midst want, or riches, or disgrace,
Uplifted calmly sat, and heard the waves
Of stormy folly breaking at his feet;
Now shrill with praise, now hoarse with foul reproach,
And both despised sincerely; seeking this
Alone the approbation of his God,
Which still with conscience witness'd to his peace.
Pollok.
2208. LIBERTY: consistent with order.
FOR orders and degrees Jar not with liberty, but well consist.-Milton. 2209. LIBERTY: has its home in England. SLAVES cannot breathe in England! if their lungs Receive our air, that moment they are free: They touch our country, and their shackles fall. That's noble, and bespeaks a nation proud And jealous of the blessing.-Cowper.
THE love of liberty with life is given,
And life itself th' inferior gift of Heaven.
Dryden.
For were even paradise my prison,
Still I should long to leap the crystal walls.
Dryden.
To hurl the rooted mountain from its base,
Than force the yoke of slavery upon men
Determined to be free.-Southey.
But slaves that once conceive the glowing thought
Of freedom, in that hope itself possess
All that the contest calls for ;-spirit, strength,
The scorn of danger, and united hearts,
The surest presage of the good they seek.-Cowper.
2211. LIBERTY of heart.
BUT there is yet a liberty, unsung
By poets, and by senators unpraised,
Which monarchs cannot grant, nor all the powers
Of earth and hell confederate take away;
A liberty which persecution, fraud,
Oppression, prisons, have no power to bind ;
Which whoso tastes can be enslaved no more.
'Tis liberty of heart, derived from Heaven,
Bought with His blood, who gave it to mankind,
And seal'd with the same token.-Cowper.
OH, could I worship aught beneath the skies,
That earth hath seen or fancy can devise,
Thine altar, sacred liberty! should stand,
Built by no mercenary vulgar hand,
With fragrant turf, and flowers as wild and fair
As ever dress'd a bank, or scented summer air.
2213. LIBERTY: should be jealously guarded.
THE greatest glory of a free-born people
Is to transmit that freedom to their children.
Havard.
2214. LIBERTY. Show of
When we have lost the substance, is best kept, By seeming not to understand those faults, Which we want power to mend.-May.
2215. LIBERTY. Spirit of
THERE is a spirit working in the world,
Like to a silent, subterranean fire;
Yet ever and anon some monarch hurl'd
Aghast and pale, attests its fearful ire;
The dungeon'd nations now once more respire
The keen and stirring air of Liberty!-Hill.
A DAY, an hour of virtuous liberty
Is worth a whole eternity in bondage.
Addison. When liberty is gone Life grows insipid, and has lost its relish.
Liberty, like day,
Breaks on the soul, and by a flash from heaven
Fires all the faculties with glorious joy.-Cowper.
'Tis liberty alone that gives the flower
Of fleeting life its lustre and perfume,
And we are weeds without it.-Cowper.
MAN'S life's a book of history;
The leaves thereof are days; The letters, mercies closely joined; The title is God's praise.—Mason.
2218. LIFE: a pilgrimage.
SINCE every man who lives is born to die, And none can boast sincere felicity,
A BRIGHT or dark eternity in view,
With all its fix'd, unutterable things,
What madness in the living to pursue
As their chief portion, with the speed of wings,
The joys that death-beds always turn to stings!
Infatuated man, on earth's smooth waste
To dance along the path that always brings
Quick to an end, from which with ten-fold haste
Back would he gladly fly till all should be retraced !
Our life is like the hurrying on the eve
Before we start, on some long journey bound,
When preparations to the last we leave,
Then run to every room the dwelling round,
And sigh that nothing needed can be found;
Yet go we must, and soon as day shall break:
We snatch an hour's repose, when loud the sound
For our departure calls; we rise and take
A quick and sad farewell, and go ere well awake.
Wilcox.
WHAT is the life of man? A passing shade
Upon the changeful mirror of old Time,
A sere leaf long ere autumn comes decay'd,
A plant or tree that scantly reaches prime,
A dew-drop of the morning gone ere noon,
A dying taper on a darksome pall,
The foam of torrent's whirling wave,
A bird that flutters on a drooping wing,
A shadowy spectre o'er an open grave,
A morning-glory's moment in the spring,
A sunset after storm, an erring angel's dream.
A breaking bubble on a rushing stream,
What is the death we fear? The peaceful close
Of stormy life-of reckless passion's sway;
The veil that mantles all our cares and woes,
The heavenly ending of an earthly day ;
The crown of time well-spent, the portal fair
Which opes the way to never-ending joy;
It sets the captive spirit free as air
From all the fetters which on earth annoy.
What is this death? The sleep the pilgrim takes
After much weary travail he has known ;
And whence, with powers renewed, he awakes,
His soul more mighty from its slumbers grown;
The glorious conquest over human ill,
A spirit's joy which death can never kill.
2221. LIFE and Immortality brought to light by As living shadows for a moment seen
O EVERLASTING Father, God!
Sun after sun went down, and trod
Race after race the green earth's sod,
Till generations seem'd to be
But dead waves of an endless sea,
But dead leaves from a deathless tree.
But Thou hast come, and now we know
Each wave hath an eternal flow,
Each leaf a lifetime after snow. -Alexander.
THE leaves around me falling,
Are preaching of decay, The hollow winds are calling, 'Come, pilgrim, come away!'
The day, in night declining,
Says I must too decline,
The year, its bloom resigning,
Its lot foreshadows mine!
The light my path surrounding,
The loves to which I cling,
The hopes within me bounding,
The joys that round me wing,
All, all, like stars at even,
Just gleam and shoot away;
Pass on before to heaven,
And chide at my delay.
The friends gone there before me
Are calling from on high,
And happy angels o'er me
Tempt sweetly to the sky.
'Wait, wait,' they say, 'and wither
'Mid scenes of death and sin? Oh! rise to glory hither,
And find true life begin.'
I hear the invitation,
And fain would rise and come,
A sinner to salvation,
An exile to his home;
But while I here must linger,
Thus, thus let all I see
Point on with faithful finger,
To heaven, O Lord, and Thee.-Lyte.
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In airy pageant on the eternal screen,
Traced by a ray from one unchanging flame,
Then seek the dust and stillness whence we came.
O. W. Holmes.
2224. LIFE. Brevity of
LIKE to the falling of a star,
Or as the flights of eagles are,
Or like the fresh spring's gaudy hue,
Or silver drops of morning dew,
Or like a wind that chafes the flood,
Or bubbles which on water stood-
E'en such is man, whose borrow'd light
Is straight call'd in, and paid to-night.
The wind blows out, the bubble dies,
The spring entomb'd in autumn lies,
The dew dries up, the star is shot,
The flight is past-and man forgot!—King.
Life's little stage is a small eminence,
Inch-high the grave above; that home of man,
Where dwells the multitude: we gaze around ;
We read their monuments; we sigh; and while
We sigh, we sink; and are what we deplored;
Lamenting, or lamented, all our lot. Young.
While man is growing, life is in decrease;
And cradles rock us nearer to the tomb.
Our birth is nothing but our death begun;
As tapers waste that instant they take fire.
He sins against this life, who slights the next. Young.
Life is but a day at most,
Sprung from night, in darkness lost :
Hope not sunshine every hour,
Fear not clouds will always lower. -Burns.
O Life! how pleasing is thy morning,
Young fancy's rays the hills adorning!
Cold-pausing-cautious lessons scorning,
We frisk away
Like school-boys, at the expected warning,
To joy and play.
We wander there, we wander here,
We eye the rose upon the brier,
Unmindful that the thorn is near
Among the leaves;
And though the puny wound appear,
Short while it grieves. —Burns.
OH! let the soul its slumber break, Arouse its senses and awake,
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