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IV.

And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide,

But through it there rolled not the breath of his

pride :

And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf,
And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.

V.

And there lay the rider distorted and pale,

With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his

mail;

And the tents were all silent, the banners alone,

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The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.

VI.

And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail,

And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal;

And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword,

Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord!

FROM JOB.

1.

A SPIRIT passed before me: I beheld

The face of Immortality unveiled

Deep sleep came down on ev'ry eye save mine

And there it stood, all formless—but divine:

Along my bones the creeping flesh did quake;

And as my damp hair stiffened, thus it spake:

II.

“ Is man more just than God? Is man more pure

Than he who deems even Seraphs insecure?

Creatures of clay-vain dwellers in the dust! “ The moth survives you, and are ye more just?

Things of a day! you wither ere the night, “ Heedless and blind to Wisdom's wasted light!"

THE END.

T. DAVISON, Lombard-street,

Whitefriars, London.

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