Press to the stream, and send to Heaven a cry
Of high-raised joy, of grateful ecstasy.

And did thy sons, with more than filial care,
Their Father's love in holiest memory bear?
And did no foul revolt, no deep-dyed crime,
Stain the fair record of succeeding time?
Ah, witness Thou, whose zeal indignant trod
Prone in the dust the people's idol-god!
And, witness Thou, that oft, in folly proud,
Ungrateful Judah spurned the faith he vowed;
Transgressed the Law by matchless wisdom planned,
And dared the wrath of Heaven's avenging hand.
Not such your promise, false, apostate race,
When pale ye bowed at Sinai's trembling base;
Shrunk from the trumpet's blast, and shook with fear,
As more than mortal accents met your ear.
Why didst thou tremble, Sinai? Why were spread
Clouds and thick darkness round thy mystic head?
Why like a furnace glowed thy groaning womb,
And shot red volumes through the investing gloom?
Let him declare, who in that dread abode,
Tremendous thought! held converse with his God!
And sure no mortal voice was that, whose sound
Hushed the big thunder's pealing full around;
No mortal voice was that, whose mighty din
Shook the firm frame, and moved the soul within:
No, from yon cloud eternal accents brake,
And He, the God of gods, Jehovah spake;
Earth, seas, and skies confessed the Almighty word
Which gave them birth; which must again be heard,
When, like a vapour, they shall melt away-
Oh glorious morn! Oh great, terrific day!
Such as hath never been, since first, when Time
Through hymning orbs began his march sublime;

Nor shall be more, till, wrapt in billowy fire,
Worlds headlong rush, and Nature's self expire.

Yet though by God's own voice the Law was given,
Graved by His hand, in characters of Heaven;

Though Mercy smiled, though threatening Vengeance
Jacob's false sons Jehovah's power disowned; [frowned,
Yet still His eye watched o'er them, still He spread
His guardian pinions o'er His people's head,
Still bore them on, till, in triumphal pride,
Their sacred banner waved o'er Jordan's tide.

And He, their Priest, their Prophet, and their Chief,
Source of their bliss, and solace of their grief,
Oh must not He through Jordan's refluent wave
Still lead the host, his arm so oft could save ?
Must not those hands, which, heavenward raised, made
[wreck
Of the proud hopes of stubborn Amalek;
Which bowed pale Bashan's thousands in the fight,
And crushed the aspiring crest of Sihon's might,
Must not those hands, with vengeance not their own,
Tear haughty Canaan from his guilty throne?
No, Meribah forbids; yet Mercy's prayer

Smooths the dark frown which Justice seemed to wear,
From Pisgah's hallowed height the Seer surveys
Scenes yet to be, and deeds of future days;
Sees, unassailed, the firm and solid wall
Bow to the clanging war-trump's sevenfold call;
Views federate monarchs, trembling and dismayed,
Bend to the conquering might of Joshua's blade;
And kindling marks, in triumph's happiest hour,
Jehovah's banner float from Salem's tower.
But, gift diviner far! his raptured eyes
See the true Prophet, the Messiah rise;

View Heaven revealed, and, as from scenes too bright
Retiring, shrink into the shades of night.

[rise

Where, boast of Israel, is thy secret tomb * ? Did Earth receive thee to her parent womb? Did Seraph-hands prepare the viewless pyre? Or didst thou mount unchanged on wings of fire? For many a tear o'er thee did Israel shed, And mourned thy spirit, as thy cold corse, dead; Nor causeless mourned, for ne'er their thoughts could To deathless life, to worlds beyond the skies: O it was dark with them; to their weak sight The future all was wrapt in deepest night; Or trembling Hope the distant scene displayed, Dim as the morn's grey dawn, or evening's shade. But on our view, bright beaming from afar, Breaks the blest ray of Bethlehem's Morning Star, While, purged from every film, Faith's angel eye Mock's Time's thin veil, and scans Eternity.

For Christ, our holier Passover, is slain, Lamb without spot, and pure from every stain, Pledge of that love, whose might resistless broke Sin's fiercer reign, and Satan's heavier yoke! And He is present still-He still shall bless The thorny path of life's rough wilderness. He still bids springs of living waters rise, And heavenly food, with ceaseless care, supplies. And when by Death's cold stream we trembling stand, The stream which bars us from our Promised Land, His voice shall calm our fears, His hand shall guide Our fainting footsteps through that fiercer tide, And land us safely on our Canaan's shore,

Where Toil, and Tears, and Death are known no more,

University College.

* Deut. xxxiv, 6.

day.”

MATTHEW ROLLESTON.

"But no man knoweth of his tomb to this

DIALOGUE,

FROM THE PHENISSE OF EURIPIDES.

There are two passages of the Greek Tragedians, one in this Drama, and another on the very same subject in the Επτα ἐπι Θηβαις of Eschylus, which have always struck me with peculiar force as the most lively representations of reality, afforded by the ancient models. The idea has been adopted by Sheridan, in the popular Play of Pizarro, and received the applause it deserved. Your readers will immediately recollect the scene in which a young boy, mounted on a tree, describes to his blind father what he sees of a battle, supposed to take place at some distance from the stage. The same effect is also produced by Homer, in the beauti ful scene of Priam and Helen, on the walls of Troy. This was probably the original which both Eschylus and Euripides had in view. I have endeavoured in the following lines to give some image of the design, but not an accurate translation of the words of the latter poet. An old man, the preceptor of the family of Edipus, is standing on a platform before the palace, overlooking the adjacent fields, and the encampment of the allied powers. Antigone descends from her apartment to join him, and a Dia logue ensues in irregular measure.

ANTIGONE.

O GUARDIAN of my early day!
Stretch forth thine aged arm to be
The kind supporter of my way,

And guide my trembling feet to thee!

OLD MAN.

Take, Virgin, take this faithful arm, 'tis thine. Behold, fair Maid, a scene that claims thy care; In martial pomp arrayed (a threatening line) Pelasgia's warriors stand embattled there,

ANTIGONE.

Gods! what a sight; the moving field
Beams, like a polished brazen shield!

OLD MAN.

Oh not in vain has Polynices dared

Invade his native land. He comes prepared.
Ten thousand horsemen on his march attend,
Ten thousand glittering spears surround their friend.

ANTIGONE.

What beams of brass, what iron gate,
Can save Amphion's sacred state?

OLD MAN.

Be calm, my Child, the city fears no wound,
Be calm, and safely view th' embattled ground,

ANTIGONE.

Whose snow-white plume is waving there,
Far, far, the foremost of the field?

Who brandishes so high in air

The blazing terrors of his shield ?

OLD MAN.

The chief from fair Mycena claims his race,
Of Lerna's woods the terror and the grace,
Far famed Hippomedon.