But how must the religious and the moral dislike the one, though they venerate the other! The kindness of the worldly Polite only lives its little hour in one's presence; but that of the Benevolent retains its life and sweetness in one's absence. The worldly polite will often make the objects of their greatest flatteries and attentions, when present, the butt of their ridicule as soon as they see them no more; while the benevolent hold the characters and qualities of their associates in a sort of holy keeping at all times, and are as indulgent to the absent as they were attentive to the present. The kindness of the worldly polite is the gay and pleasing flower worn in the bosom, as the ornament of a few hours; then suffered to fade, and thrown by, when it is wanted no longer: but that of the really benevolent is like the fresh-springing evergreen, that blooms on through all times, and all seasons, unfading in beauty, and undiminished in sweetness. HENRY HART MILMAN, 1791 HENRY HART MILMAN is the son of an eminent physician, Sir Francis Milman, and was born in the year 1791. He passed through his university education at Brazen-nose College, Oxford, with distinguished honors, and first appeared as an author in 1816, when his tragedy of "Fazio" was pub. lished. This was followed, in 1818, by "Samor, Lord of the Bright City, a Heroic Poem." To this succeeded four dramatic poems-" The Fall of Jerusalem," "The Martyr of Antioch," "Belshazzar," and "Anne Boleyn." To our prose literature he has contributed a well-written "History of the Jews," in three volumes, and an edition of "Gibbon's Rome," with notes and corrections. Mr. Milman is distinguished as an elegant classical scholar, and held the office of Professor of Poetry in the university. His fine taste, chaste imagination, and varied attainments, are seen in all his dramatic works, the best of which are "The Fall of Jerusalem" and the "Martyr of Antioch;" while some of his lyrical pieces are remarkable for beauty, tenderness, and sublimity. Titus. JERUSALEM BEFORE THE SIEGE. -It must be And yet it moves me, Romans! It confounds That Ruin's merciless ploughshare must pass o'er, Is hung with marble fabrics, line o'er line, To the blue heavens. There bright and sumptuous palaces, There towers of war, that frown in massy strength; While over all hangs the rich purple eve, As conscious of its being her last farewell Of light and glory to that fated city. And, as our clouds of battle, dust and smoke, In undisturbed and lone serenity, Finding itself a solemn sanctuary In the profound of heaven! It stands before us HYMN OF THE CAPTIVE JEWS. God of the thunder! from whose cloudy seat God of the rainbow! at whose gracious sign An Eden blooms in the waste wilderness! Her sons were wasted by the Assyrian sword, For thou didst ride the tempest-cloud of fate. The sun shall shine on Salem's gilded towers, On Carmel's side our maidens cull the flowers, Thy vengeance gave us to the stranger's hand, Envying our fathers in their peaceful graves. Thy mercy, Lord, shall lead thy children home; Yet, ere he die, to Salem's streets shall come. And Canaan's vines for us their fruits shall bear, And Hermon's bees their honeyed stores prepare; And we shall kneel again in thankful prayer, Where, o'er the cherub-seated God, full blazed the irradiate dome. THE NATIVITY. Thou wast born of woman; thou didst come, And not by thunders strew'd Was thy tempestuous road; Nor indignation burnt before thee on thy way. Thy mother, undefiled, In the rude manger laid to rest From off her virgin breast. The heav'ns were not commanded to prepare A gorgeous canopy of golden air; Nor stoop'd their lamps th' enthroned fires on high; A single silent star Came wand'ring from afar, Gliding uncheck'd and calm along the liquid sky; As at a kingly throne, To lay their gold and odors sweet Before thy infant feet. The earth and ocean were not hush'd to hear Bright harmony from ev'ry starry sphere; Nor at thy presence brake the voice of song From all the cherub choirs, And seraph's burning lyres Pour'd through the host of heav'n the charmed clouds along: One angel troop the strain began, Of all the race of man, By simple shepherds heard alone, That soft Hosanna's tone. And when thou didst depart, no car of flame To bear thee hence in lambent radiance came; Nor visible angels mourn'd with drooping plumes: From fatal Calvary With all thine own redeem'd outbursting from their tombs. For thou didst bear away from earth But one of human birth, The dying felon by thy side, to be In Paradise with thee. Nor o'er thy cross the clouds of vengeance break, A little while the conscious earth did shake At that foul deed by her fierce children done; A few dim hours of day The world in darkness lay, Then bask'd in bright repose beneath the cloudless sun: While thou didst sleep beneath the tomb, Consenting to thy doom, Ere yet the white-robed Angel shone Upon the sealed stone. And when thou didst arise, thou didst not stand With devastation in thy red right hand, Plaguing the guilty city's murtherous crew; But thou didst haste to meet Thy mother's coming feet, And bear the words of peace unto the faithful few: Then calmly, slowly didst thou rise Into thy native skies, Thy human form dissolved on high THE BURIAL ANTHEM. Brother, thou art gone before us, Where tears are wiped from every eye, From the burthen of the flesh, And from care and fear releas'd, The toilsome way thou'st travell'd o'er, But Christ hath taught thy languid feet Thou 'rt sleeping now, like Lazarus Where the wicked cease from troubling, And the weary are at rest. Sin can never taint thee now, Nor doubt thy faith assail, Nor thy meek trust in Jesus Christ And the Holy Spirit fail: And there thou 'rt sure to meet the good, "Earth to earth," and "dust to dust," But thy spirit, brother, soars away Among the faithful blest, Where the wicked cease from troubling, And the weary are at rest. SPEECH OF ANNE BOLEYN ON HER ENTRANCE INTO THE TOWER. Kingston (to the guard).-Advance your halberds. Queen.-Oh, sir! pause-one look, One last long look, to satiate all my senses. |