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To be drudges till the last—
To be carriers of fire

(The red fire of their heart)
With speed that may not tire

And with pain that shall not part—
Who livest—that we know—

In Eternity—we feel—
But the shadow of whose brow

What spirit shall reveal?
Though the beings whom thy Nesace,

Thy messenger hath known,
Have dream'd for thy Infinity

A model of their own ; *
Thy will is done, O God!

The star hath ridden high
Through many a tempest, but she rode

Beneath thy burning eye;
And here, in thought, to thee—

In thought that can alone

* The Humanitarians held that God was to be understood as having really a human form.—Vide Clarke's Sermons, vol. i. p. 26, fol. edit.

"The drift of Milton's argument leads him to employ language which would appear, at first sight, to verge upon their doctrine; but it will be seen immediately that he guards himself against the charge of having adopted one of the most ignorant errors of the dark ages of the Church."—Dr. Sumner's Notes on Milton's Christian Doctrine.

This opinion, in spite of many testimonies to the contrary, could never have been very general. Andeus, a Syrian of Mesopotamia, was condemned for the opinion, as heretical. Ascend thy empire, and so be

A partner of thy throne—
By winged Fantasy,*

My embassy is given,
Till secrecy shall knowledge be

In the environs of heaven."

She ceased, and buried then her burning cheek,

Abash'd, amid the lilies there, to seek

A shelter from the fervour of His eye;

For the stars trembled at the Deity.

She stirr'd not, breathed not; for a voice was there,

How solemnly pervading the calm air!

A sound of silence on the startled ear,

Which dreamy poets name "the music of the sphere."

Ours is a world of words: Quiet we call

"Silence," which is the merest word of all.

He lived in the beginning of the fourth century. His disciples were called Anthropomorphites.—Vide T)v Pin. Among Milton's minor poems are these lines:—

"Dicite sacrorum presides nemorum Deae, &c.
Quis ille primus cujus ex imagine
Natura solers finxit humanum genus?
Eternus, incorruptus, eequtevus polo,
Unusque et universus exemplar Dei."
And afterwards,—

"Non qui profundum Csecitas lumen dedit Dircseus augur vidit hunc alto sinu," &e. * "Seltsamen Tochter Jovis

Seinem Schosskinde
Der Fhantasie."—Goethe.
All Nature speaks, and ev'n ideal things
Flap shadowy sounds from visionary wings;
But, ah! not so when thus, in realms on high,
The eternal voice of God is passing by,
And the red winds are withering in the sky!

"What though in worlds which sightless* cycles
Link'd to a little system, and one sun—
Where all my love is folly, and the crowd
Still think my terrors but the thunder-cloud,
The storm, the earthquake, and the ocean-wrath
(Ah! will they cross me in my angrier path ?)—
What though in worlds which own a single sun
The sands of Time grow dimmer as they run,
Yet thine is my resplendency, so given
To bear my secrets through the upper heaven.
Leave tenantless thy crystal home, and fly,
With all thy train, athwart the moony sky—
Apart—like fire-flies in Sicilian night, f
And wing to other worlds another light!
Divulge the secrets of thy embassy
To the proud orbs that twinkle—and so be

* " Sightless: too small to be seen."—Legoe.

+ I have often noticed a peculiar movement of the fireflies; they will collect in a body and fly off, from a common centre, into innumerable radii.

To ev'ry heart a barrier and a ban,

Lest the stars totter in the guilt of man!"

Uprose the maiden in the yellow night, The single-mooned eve !—on earth we plight Our faith to one love, and one moon adore: The birthplace of young Beauty had no more. As sprang that yellow star from downy hours, Uprose the maiden from her shrine of flowers, And bent o'er sheeny mountain and dim plain Her way, but left not yet her Therassean reign.*


High on a mountain of enamell'd head—
Such as the drowsy shepherd on his bed
Of giant pasturage lying at his ease,
Raising his heavy eyelid, starts and sees,
With many a mutter'd " hope to be forgiven,"
What time the moon is quadrated in heaven—
Of rosy head, that, towering far away
Into the sunlit ether, caught the ray

* Therassea, or Therasea, the island mentioned by Seneca, which, in a moment, arose from the sea to the eyes of astonished mariners.

Of sunken suns at eve—at noon of night,

While the moon danced with the fair stranger light,


Uprear'd upon such height arose a pile
Of gorgeous columns on th' unburden'd air,
Flashing from Parian marble that twin smile
Far down upon the wave that sparkled there,
And nursled the young mountain in its lair.
Of molten stars their pavement,* such as fall
Through the ebon air, besilvering the pall

* ' Some star which, from the ruin'd roof

Of shaked Olympus, by mischance, did fall.'


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