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2420. MARTYRS. Ashes of the

The world, at last, to freedom. What were we,
FLUNG to the heedless winds,

If Brutus had not lived ? He died in giving
Or on the waters cast,

Rome liberty, but left a deathless lesson

A name which is a virtue, and a soul
The martyrs' ashes, watch'd,

Which multiplies itself throughout all time.-Byron.
Shall gather'd be at last;
And from that scatter'd dust,
Around us and abroad,

2423. MARTYRS: secret of their triumphs. Shall spring a plenteous seed

Let our choir new anthems raise ;
Of witnesses for God.

Wake the morn with gladness :
The Father hath received

God Himself to joy and praise
Their latest living breath;

Turns the martyrs' sadness.
And vain is Satan's boast

This the day that won their crown,
Of victory in their death ;

Open'd heaven's bright portal,
Still, still, though dead, they speak,

As they laid the mortal down,
And, trumpet-tongued, proclaim

And put on the immortal.
To many a wakening land

Never flinch'd they from the flame,
The one availing Name.

From the torture never ;
Martin Luther, tr. by W.7. Fox.

Vain the foeman's sharpest aim,

Satan's best endeavour : 2421. MARTYRS. Christian

For by faith they saw the land, The lion's feet, the lion's lips, are dyed with crim

Deck'd in all its glory, son gore,

Where triumphant now they stand A look of faith, an unbreathed prayer, the martyr's

With the victor's story. pangs are o'er. Proud princes and grave senators gazed on that fear

Faith they had that knew not shame,

Love that could not languish; ful sight, And even woman seemd to share the savage crowd's

And eternal hope o'ercame delight;

Momentary anguish. But what the guilt that on the dead a fate so fearful

He who trod the self-same road,

Death and hell defeated ; drew?

Wherefore these their passions show'd, A blameless faith was all the crime the Christian

Calvary repeated. martyr knew : And where the crimson current flow'd upon that

Up and follow, Christian men ! barren sand,

Press through toil and sorrow! Up sprung a tree, whose vigorous boughs soon over

Spurn the sight of fear, and then, spread the land;

Oh, the glorious morrow ! O'er distant isles its shadow fell, nor knew its roots

Who will venture on the strife? decay,

Who will first begin it? E'en when the Roman Cæsar's throne and empire Who will seize the land of life? pass'd away.-Hamilton Buchanan.

Warriors, up and win it !

St Joseph of the Studium, tr. by 7. M. Neale. 2422. MARTYRS. Influence of the We must behold no object save our country,

2424. MARTYRS. Seed of the And only look on death as beautiful, So that the sacrifice ascend to heaven,

Avenge, O Lord, Thy slaughter'd saints, whose And draw down freedom on her evermore.

bones But if we fail?' They never fail who die

Lie scatter'd on the Alpine mountains cold, In a great cause! The block may soak their gore; | Even them who kept thy truth so pure of old, Their heads may sodden in the sun; their limbs When all our fathers worshipp'd stocks and stones, Be strung to city gates and castle walls;

Forget not in Thy book : record their groans But still their spirit walks abroad. Though years Who were Thy sheep, and in their ancient folds Elapse, and others share as dark a doom,

Slain by the bloody Piedmontese, that rollid They but augment the deep and sweeping thoughts Mother with infant down the rocks. Their moans Which overpower all others, and conduct

The vales redoubled to the hills, and they

To Heaven. Their martyr'd blood and ashes sow O’er all th' Italian fields, where still doth sway

The triple Tyrant : that from these may grow A hundred-fold, who having learn'd Thy way,

Early may fly the Babylonian woe. -Milton.

Who, on Christ's dear Mother thinking,
Such a cup of sorrow drinking,

Would not share her sorrows deep?
For His people's sins chastised
She beheld her Son despised,

Scourged, and crown'd with thorns entwined;
Saw Him then from judgment taken,
And in death by all forsaken,

Till His Spirit He resign'd.

2425. MARTYRS. Support of the WHEN persecution's torrent blaze

Wraps the unshrinking martyr's head,
When fade all earthly flowers and bays,

When summer friends are gone and fed,
Is he alone in that dark hour,
Who owns the Lord of love and power ?
Or waves there not around his brow

A wand no human arm may wield,
Fraught with a spell no angels know,

His steps to guide, his soul to shield? Thou, Saviour, art his Charmed Bower, His Magic Ring, his Rock, his Tower. --Keble. 2426. MARTYRS: their victory. They seem'd to die on battle-field,

To die with justice, truth, and law; The bloody corpse, the broken shield,

Were all that senseless folly saw. But, like Antxus, from the turf,

They sprung refresh'd, to strive again,
Where'er the savage and the serf

Rise to the rank of men.
They seem'd to die by sword and fire,

Their voices hush'd in endless sleep;
Well might the noblest cause expire

Beneath that mangled, smouldering heap! Yet that wan band, unarm'd, defied

The legions of their pagan foes ; And in the truths they testified,

From out the ashes rose.

Jesu, may such deep devotion
Stir in me the same emotion,

Fount of love, Redeemer kind !
That my heart, fresh ardour gaining,
And a purer love attaining,
May with Thee acceptance find.

Tr. from the Latin, by Caswali.
2428. MEDALS.
AMBITION sigh'd : she found it vain to trust
The faithless column and the crumbling bust.
Huge moles, whose shadow stretch'd from shore to

shore, Their ruins perish'd, and their place no more; Convinced, she now contracts the vast design, All her triumphs sink into a coin. A narrow orb each crowded conquest keeps; Beneath her palm here sad Judæa weeps ; Now scantier limits the proud arch confine, And scarce are seen the prostrate Nile or Rhine ; A small Euphrates through the piece is rollid, And little eagles wave their wings in gold.— Popt.

2427. MARY-at the cross.
At the cross her station keeping,
Stood the mournful Mother weeping,

Where He hung, her Son and Lord ;
For her soul, of joy bereaved,
Bow'd with anguish, deeply grieved,

Felt the sharp and piercing sword.
Oh, how sad and sore distressed
Now was she, that Mother blessed

Of the sole-begotten One ;
Deep the woe of her affliction
When she saw the Crucifixion

Of her ever-glorious Son. Who, on Christ's dear Mother gazing, Pierced by anguish so amazing,

Born of woman, would not weep?

2429. MEDICINE.

Physic can but mend our crazy state ; Patch an old building, not a new create.

Dryder. What art so noble as the healing art, When by the sick it plays its godlike part ? What more revolting to the good and pure Than physic, which procrastinates the cure? Yet why from science claim her ready balm, While folly gilds tenfold the treacherous palm? Why not test science as you test your food Examine first and then pronounce it good! Why put a thing whose nature you but guess Into a thing whereof you know still less, Whether you find it help your health or no, Simply because your doctor tells you so?

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2431. MEETING. Hope of JOYFUL words—we meet again !

Love's own language, comfort darting

Through the souls of friends at parting,
Life in Death we meet again.
While we walk this vale of tears,

Compass'd round with care and sorrow,

Gloom to-day, and storm to-morrow,
‘Meet again,' our bosom cheers.
Far in exile, when we roam,

O'er our last endearments weeping,
Lonely vigils silent keeping,
Meet again' transports us home.
When the weary world is past,

Happy they whose spirits soaring,
Vast eternity exploring,
Meet again ' in heaven at last.-Montgomery.

2434. MELANCHOLY. Cure of Some high or humble enterprise of good

Contemplate, till it shall possess thy mind, Become thy study, pastime, rest, and food,

And kindle in thy heart a flame refined.

Pray Heaven with firmness thy whole soul to bind To this thy purpose, -to begin, pursue,

With thoughts all fix'd, and feelings purely kind ; Strength to complete, and with delight review, And grace to give the praise where all is ever due. Rouse to some work of high and holy love,

And thou an angel's happiness shalt know; Shalt bless the earth while in the world above ;

The good begun by thee shall onward flow

In many a branching stream, and wider grow; The seed that, in these few and fleeting hours,

Thy hands, unsparing and unwearied, sow, Shall deck thy grave with amaranthine flowers, And yield thee fruits divine in heaven's immortal

bowers.-Wilcox.

2432. MEETING. Prophecy of THOSE we love can never perish;

They at most but disappear, And their memories we cherish,

While, unseen, we feel them near. Soon we'll leave the mists and vapours

Which pervade the vale of tears, And the dimly burning tapers

That but mock our hopes and fears; Pass within the realms supernal,

Where the seeming is the real, And the transient, the eternal,

In the loftiest ideal.

2435. MELANCHOLY. Effects of

This melancholy flatters, but unmans you;
What is it else but penury of soul,

A lazy frost, a numbness of the mind ?-Dryden.
When the sun sets, shadows that show'd at noon
But small, appear most long and terrible :
So when we think fate hovers o'er our heads,
Our apprehensions shoot beyond all bounds:
Owls, ravens, crickets, seem the watch of death;
Nature's worst vermin scare her godlike sons :
Echoes, the very leavings of a voice,
Grow babbling ghosts, and call us to our graves.
Each mole-hill thought swells to a huge Olympus ;
While we, fantastic dreamers, heave and puff
And sweat with our imagination's weight.-Lee.

Melancholy Sits on me as a cloud along the sky, Which will not let the sunbeams through, nor yet Descend in rain, and end ; but spreads itself | 'Twixt heaven and earth, like envy between man And man,-an everlasting mist. -Byron.

There we'll meet the loved departed

When life's weary wheels stand still !' Meet the noble, the true-hearted,

Who life's mission here fulfil. Friends and lovers, sisters, brothers,

With the thousands we hold dear; Fathers, daughters, sons, and mothers,

Within that celestial sphere.-C. C. Bedell.

2433. MELANCHOLY. Causes of

SWEET recreation barr'd, what doth ensue,
But moody and dull Melancholy
(Kinsman to grim and comfortless Despair),
And at her heels a huge infectious troop
Of pale distemperatures and foes to life.

Shakespeare.

We're not ourselves, When nature, being opprest, commands the mind To suffer with the body.-Shakespeare.

2436. MELANCHOLY: not always an evil.

There is a mood (I sing not to the vacant and the young), There is a kindly mood of melancholy, That wings the soul, and points her to the skies.

Dyer. 2437. MEMORIES OF CHILDHOOD. Be it a weakness, it deserves some praise, We love the play-place of our early days:

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The scene is touching, and the heart is stone

To perish neverThat feels not at that sight, and feels at home. | Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavour,

Cowper.

Nor man nor boy,
I remember, I remember

Nor all that is at enmity with joy,
The house where I was born,

Can utterly abolish or destroy!
The little window where the sun

Hence in a season of calm weather,
Came peeping in at morn:

Though inland far we be,
He never came a wink too soon,

Our souls have sight of that immortal sea
Nor brought too long a day;

Which brought us hither-
But now I often wish the night

Can in a moment travel thither,
Had borne my breath away!

And see the children sport upon the shore,
I remember, I remember

And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore.

Wordsworth.
The roses red and white,
The violets and lily-cups,

Here, while I roved-a heedless boy-
Those flowers made of light !

Here, while through paths of peace I ran,
The lilacs where the robin built,

My feet were vex'd with puny snares,
And where my brother set

My bosom stung with insect-cares :
The laburnum on his birthday,

But, ah ! what light and little things
The tree is growing yet!

Are childhood's woes !--they break no rest :
I remember, I remember

Like dew-drops on the skylark's wings
The fir-trees dark and high-

While slumbering in his grassy nest,
I used to think their slender tops

Gone in a moment, when he springs
Were close against the sky:

To meet the morn with open breast,
It was a childish ignorance ;

As o'er the eastern hills her banners glow,
But now 'tis little joy

And veil'd in mist the valley sleeps below. To know I'm farther off from heaven

James Montgomery. Than when I was a boy !-Hood.

Ah me! those joyous days are gone!

I little dreamt, till they were flown,
Oh joy! that in our embers

How fleeting were the hours !
Is something that doth live,

For, lest he break the pleasing spell,
That nature yet remembers

Time bears for youth a muffled bell,
What was so fugitive!

And hides his face in flowers.
The thought of our past years in me doth breed
Perpetual benediction : not, indeed,

Ah! well I mind me of the days,
For that which is most worthy to be blest-

Still bright in memory's flattering rays, Delight and liberty, the simple creed

When all was fair and new ; Of childhood, whether busy or at rest,

When knaves were only found in books, With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast-1 And friends were known by friendly looks, Not for these I raise

And love was always true !- John G. Saxı. The song of thanks and praise ; But for those obstinate questionings

2438. MEMORY. Bells of of sense and outward things, Fallings from us, vanishings,

HARK ! the faint bells of the sunken city Blank misgivings of a creature

Peal once more their wonted evening chime ! Moving about in worlds not realized,

From the deep abysses floats a ditty, High instincts, before which our mortal nature

Wild and wondrous, of the olden time.
Did tremble like a guilty thing surprised

Temples, towers, and domes of many stories
But for those first affections,

There lie buried in an ocean grave-
Those shadowy recollections,

Undescried, save when their golden glories
Which, be they what they may,

Gleam, at sunset, through the lighted wave. Are yet the fountain-light of all our day, Are yet a master light of all our seeing,

And the mariner who had seen them glisten, Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make In whose ears those magic bells do sound, Our noisy years seem moments in the being

Night by night bides there to watch and listen, Of the eternal silence : truths that wake

I Though death lurks behind each dark rock round.

So the bells of memory's wonder-city

Peal for me their old melodious chime ; So my heart pours forth a changeful ditty,

Sad and pleasant, from the bygone time.

Domes and towers and castles, fancy-builded,

There lie lost to daylight's garish beamsThere lie hidden till unveil'd and gilded,

Glory-gilded, by my nightly dreams! And then hear I music sweet upknelling

From many a well-known phantom band, And, through tears, can see my natural dwelling Far off in the spirit's luminous land !

Mueller, tr. by Mangan.

When I remember all

The friends, so link'd together,
I've seen around me fall,
Like leaves in wintry weather ;

I feel like one
Who treads alone
Some banquet-hall deserted,

Whose lights are fled,

Whose garlands dead,
And all but he departed !-Moore.

2442. MEMORY of the heart.

2439. MEMORY. Function of

HAD memory heen lost with innocence,
We had not known the sentence nor th' offence :
'Twas his chief punishment to keep in store
The sad remembrance what he was before.

Denham.
2440. MEMORY. Joys of
LET Fate do her worst, there are moments of joy,
Bright dreams of the past, which she cannot destroy,
Which come in the night-time of sorrow and care,
And bring back the features that Joy used to wear.

Moore.

If stores of dry and learned lore we gain,
We keep them in the memory of the brain ;
Names, things, and facts—whate'er we knowledge

call -
There is the common ledger for them all ;
And images on this cold surface traced
Make slight impression, and are soon effaced.
But we've a page, more glowing and more bright,
On which our friendship and our love to write ;
That these may never from the soul depart,
We trust them to the memory of the heart.
There is no dimming, no effacement there;
Each new pulsation keeps the record clear;
Warm, golden letters all the tablet fill,
Nor lose their lustre till the heart stands still.

Daniel Webster, 2443. MEMORY. Perpetuation of Not myself, but the truth that in life I have spoken,

Not myself, but the seed that in life I have sown, Shall pass on to ages—all about me forgotten,

Save the truth I have spoken, the things I have

When time, which steals our years away,

Shall steal our pleasures too, The memory of the past will stay,

And half our joy renew.-Moore.

done.

Long, long be my heart with such memories filld! Like the vase in which roses have once been distillid: You may break, you may ruin the vase if you will; But the scent of the roses will hang round it still.

Moore. There are moments of life that we never forget,

Which brighten and brighten as time steals away; They give a new charm to the happiest lot, And they shine on the gloom of the loneliest day.

Percival.
2441. MEMORY. Light of
Oft, in the stilly night,

Ere slumber's chain has bound me,
Fond memory brings the light
Of other days around me;

The smiles, the tears,
Of boyhood's years,
The words of love then spoken,

The eye that shone,

Now dimm'd and gone,
The cheerful hearts now broken !

So let my living be, so be my dying;

So let my name lie, unblazon'd, unknown ; Unpraised and unmiss'd, I shall still be remember'd ; Yes—but remember'd by what I have done.

Bonar. 2444. MEMORY: quickened into exercise. LULL'd in the countless chambers of the brain, Our thoughts are link'd by many a hidden chain ; Awake but one, and lo, what myriads rise !

Each stamps its image as the other flies !-Rogers. As letters some hand has invisibly traced,

When held to the flame will steal out to the sight, So, many a feeling that long seem'd effaced, The warmth of a meeting like this brings to light !

Moore. 2445. MEMORY. Sorrows of

WHEN musing on companions gone, We doubly feel ourselves alone. -Scotl.

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