then have to blush for the disingenuousness of the most devoted worshipper of speculative truth, for the servility of the boldest champion of intellectual freedom. We should not then have seen the same man at one time far in the van, and at another time far in the rear of his generation. We should not then be forced to own, that he who first treated legislation as a science, was among the last Englishmen who used the rack; that he who first summoned philosophers to the great work of interpreting nature, was among the last Englishmen who sold justice. And we should conclude our survey of a life placidly, honourably, beneficially passed, "in industrious observations, grounded conclusions, and profitable inventions and discoveries," with feelings very different from those with which we now turn away from the checkered spectacle of so much glory and so much shame.
On the Downfall of Poland.-Campbell.
O SACRED Truth! thy triumph ceased awhile,
And Hope, thy sister, ceased with thee to smile,
When leagued Oppression pour'd to Northern wars
Her whisker'd pandours and her fierce hussars,
Waved her dread standard to the breeze of morn,
Peal'd her loud drum, and twang'd her trumpet horn;
Tumultuous Horror brooded o'er her van,
Presaging wrath to Poland-and to man!
Warsaw's last champion, from her height, survey'd,
Wide o'er the fields, a waste of ruin laid:
"O Heaven!" he cried, my bleeding country save!Is there no hand on high to shield the brave?
Yet, though destruction sweep those lovely plains,
Rise, fellow-men! our COUNTRY yet remains!
By that dread name, we wave the sword on high!
And swear, for her to live!—with her to die !”
He said, and on the rampart-heights array'd
His trusty warriors, few, but undismay'd;
Firm-paced and slow, a horrid front they form,
Still as the breeze, but dreadful as the storm!
Low, murmuring sounds along their banners fly,
REVENGE, OR DEATH!-the watchword and reply;
Then peal'd the notes, omnipotent to charm,
And the loud tocsin toll'd their last alarm!-
In vain-alas! in vain, ye gallant few!
From rank to rank your volley'd thunder flew :
Oh! bloodiest picture in the book of Time,
Sarmatia fell, unwept, without a crime!
Found not a generous friend, a pitying foe,
Strength in her arms, nor mercy in her wo!
Dropp'd from her nerveless grasp the shatter'd spear,
Closed her bright eye, and curb'd her bright career;
Hope, for a season, bade the world farewell,
And Freedom shriek'd-as KOSCIUSKO fell!
Saturday Evening.—BULWER.
THE week is past, the Sabbath dawn comes on,
Rest-rest in peace-thy daily toil is done;
And standing, as thou standest, on the brink
Of a new scene of being, calmly think
Of what is gone, is now, and soon shall bẹ,
As one that trembles on eternity.
For sure as this now closing week is past,
So sure advancing Time will close my last-
Sure as to-morrow, shall the awful light
Of the eternal morning hail my sight.
Spirit of good! on this week's verge I stand,
Tracing the guiding influence of thy hand;
That hand which leads me gently, calmly still,
Up life's dark, stony, tiresome, thorny hill,
Thou, thou in every storm hast sheltered me
Beneath the wing of thy benignity;
A thousand writhe upon the bed of pain:
I live-and pleasure flows through every vein !
A thousand graves my footsteps circumvent,
And I exist-thy mercy's monument !
Want o'er a thousand wretches waves her wand;
I, circled by ten thousand mercies, stand;
How can I praise thee, Father! how express
My debt of rev'rence and of thankfulness!
A debt that no intelligence can count,
While every moment swells the vast amount;
For the week's duties thou hast given me strength,
And brought me to its peaceful close at length,
And here my grateful bosom fain would raise
A fresh memorial to thy glorious praise.
[Translated from the Russian of Derzhavin.]
O THOU Eternal One! whose presence bright
All space doth оссиру, all motion guide;
Unchanged through time's all-devastating flight;
Thou only God! There is no God beside!
Being above all Beings! Mighty One!
Whom none can comprehend and none explore! Who fill'st existence with Thyself alone:
Embracing all,-supporting, ruling o'er,Being, whom we call God!—and know no more.
In its sublime research, philosophy
May measure out the ocean-deep; may count The sands, or the sun's rays; but, God! for thee There is no weight nor measure :-none can mount Up to thy mysteries. Reason's brightest spark, Though kindled by thy light, in vain would try To trace thy counsels, infinite and dark;
And thought is lost, ere thought can soar so high,
Even like past moments in eternity.
Thou from primeval nothingness didst call
First chaos, then existence. Lord, on thee
Eternity had its foundation: all
Sprang forth from thee-of light, joy, harmony,
Sole origin; all life, all beauty thine.
Thy word created all, and doth create; Thy splendour fills all space with rays
divine.
Thou art, and wert, and shalt be, glorious! great!
Light-giving, life-sustaining Potentate!
Thy chains the unmeasured universe surround,
Ŭpheld by thee, by thee inspired with breath!
Thou the beginning with the end hast bound,
And beautifully mingled life and death.
As sparks mount upwards from the fiery blaze,
So suns are born, so worlds spring forth from thee;
And, as the spangles in the sunny rays
Shine round the silver snow, the pageantry
Of heaven's bright army glitters in thy praise.
A million torches, lighted by thy hand,
Wander unwearied through the blue abyss:
They own thy power, accomplish thy command,
All gay with life, all eloquent with bliss.
What shall we call them? Piles of crystal light?
A glorious company of golden streams?
Lamps of celestial ether burning bright?
Suns lighting systems with their joyous beams?
But thou to these art as the moon to night.
Yes; as a drop of water in the sea,
All this magnificence in thee is lost :
What are ten thousand worlds compared to thee?
And what am I then? Heaven's unnumber'd host,—
Though multiplied by myriads, and arrayed
In all the glory of sublimest thought,
Is but an atom in the balance, weighed
Against thy greatness; is a cipher brought
Against infinity! Oh! what am I then ?-Nought!
Nought! But the effluence of thy light divine,
Pervading worlds, hath reached my bosom too;
Yes! in my spirit doth thy spirit shine,
As shines the sun-beam in a drop of dew.
Nought! But I live, and on hope's pinions fly,
Eager, towards thy presence; for in thee
I live, and breathe, and dwell; aspiring high,
Even to the throne of thy divinity.
I am, O God; and surely. thou must be !
Thou art directing, guiding all, thou art!
Direct my understanding, then, to thee;
Control my spirit, guide my wandering heart.
Though but an atom 'midst immensity,
Still I am something, fashioned by thy hand!
I hold a middle rank 'twixt heaven and earth, On the last verge of mortal being stand,
Close to the realms where angels have their birth, Just on the boundaries of the spirit land!
The chain of being is complete in me;
In me is matter's last gradation lost,
And the next step is spirit-Deity!
I can command the lightning, and am dust!
A monarch-and a slave! a worm-a god!
Whence came I here, and how so marvellously
Constructed and conceived? unknown! This clod
Lives surely through some higher energy;
For, from itself alone, it could not be!
Creator, yes: thy wisdom and thy word
Created me! Thou Source of life and good!
Thou Spirit of my spirit, and my Lord!
Thy light, thy love, in their bright plenitude,
Fill'd me with an immortal soul, to spring
Over the abyss of death, and bade it wear
The garments of eternal day, and wing
Its heavenly flight beyond this little sphere,
Even to its Source-to. Thee-its Author, there.
O thoughts ineffable! O visions blessed!
Though worthless our conceptions all of thee,
Yet shall thy shadow'd image fill our breast
And waft its homage to thy Deity.
God, thus alone my lowly thoughts can soar,
Thus seek thy presence, Being wise and good;
'Midst thy vast works admire, obey, adore;
And when the tongue is eloquent no more,
The soul shall speak in tears of gratitude.
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