ETERNITY OF GOD.
That, travelling from our canton, I espied Slew wiling up a steep, a mountaineer Of brawny limb, upon his back a lead Of faggots bound. Curious to see what end Was worthy of such labour, afier him I took the cliff: and saw its lofty top Receive his load, which went but to augment A pile of many another. Emma. "Tis by fire! Fire is the signal for the hills to rise!—( Rushes out.) Me cu. Went she not forth? Srranx. She did—she 's here again And brings with her a lighted brand. Mexcu. My child What dost thou with a lighted brand? (Re-enter Emma with a brand.) Emma. Prepare To give the signal for the hills to rise! Mexcu. + Where are the faggots, child, for such a blaze? Emma. I'll find the faggots, father. (Ezit.) Metcu. She’s gone Again? Srran. She is—I think into her chamber. Emma. (Rushing in.}—Faiher, the pile is fir'd! Metcu. What pile, my child? Emma. The joists and rafters of our cottage, father! Me cn. ‘I'hou hast not fir'd thy cottage!—but thou hast! Alas, I hear the crackling of the flames! Emma. Say’st thou alas! when I do say, thank heaven? Father, this blaze will set the land ablaze With fire that shall preserve, and not destroy it. Blaze on! blaze on! Oh, may’st thou be a beacon To light its sons enslav'd to liberty! How fast it spreads! A spirit’s in the fire; It knows the work it does—(Goes to the door and
opens it.)
The land is free!
Yonder’s another blaze. Beyond that shoots
Another up'!—Anon will every hill
Redden with vengeance. Father, come! Whate’er
Betides us, worse we're certain can’t befall,
And better may! Oh, be it liberty—
Safe hearths and homes, husbands and children. Come,
It spreads apace. Blaze on—blaze on—blaze on!
(Exeuat.)
There is a quaint: sweetness in the following
lines, which is as rare to find as it is impossible to
disregard in these “degenerate days.” The lyre of
Mr. Knowles has various tones of varied excellence.
SONG. A fair lady looks out from her lattice—but why Do tears bedim that lady's eye? Below stands the knight who her favour wears, But he mounts not the turret to dry her tears; He springs on his charger—* Farewell!"-—he is gone, And the lady is left in her turret alone. “Ply the distaff, my maids—ply the distaff—before It is spun, he may happen to stand at the door.”
There was never an eye than that lady’s more bright;
Why speeds then away her favour’d knight?
The couch which her white fingers broider'd so fair,
Were a far softer seat than the saddle of war!
What's more tempting than love? Jn the patriot’s sight
The batile of freedom he hastens to fight!
“Ply the distaff, my maids—ply the distaff—before
It is spun, he may happen to stand at the door.”
The fair lady looks out from her lattice—but now
Her eye is as bright as her fair shining brow!
And is sorrow so fleeting }—Love's tears—<dry they fast? The stronger is love, is’t the less sure to last? Whose arm sees her knight round her waist!—’Tis his own! By the battle she wept for, her lover is won! “Ply the distaff, my maids, ply the distaff no more! Would you spin when already he stands at the door?” i aaeeetartmeenriatinnainell Original. SCRIPTURAL SKETCHES.—NO, BY N. C. BROOKS, A. M. Eternity of God.
Vv.
And thou, Lord, in the beginning hast laid the foundation of the earth, and
the heavens are the works of thy hands:
They shall perish but thou remainest; and they shall wax old as doth 2 garment:
And as a vesture thou shalt fold them up; and they shall be changed, bat thou art the same, and thy years shall not fail. — Hebrews, chap. i. ver. 10, 11, 12.
Tue deep foundations of the earth are thine—
Laid by thy hands Almighty, when of old
From ancient chaos order rose, and light
From darkness, beauty from a shapeless mass.
A glorious orb from its Creator’s hands
It came, in light and loveliness arrayed,
Crowned with green emerald mounts, tinted with gold And wearing as a robe the silver sea,
Seeded with jewels of resplendent isles.
The awful heavens are thine—the liquid sun, That heaves his fiery waves beneath thy eye— The ocean-fount of all the streams of light,
That pour their beamy treasures through the wide Iilimitable ether, watering with their rays
The wide-spread soil, to where the burning sands Of dark immensity eternal barriers throw
Against the flowing of their crystal streams,
Was from the Godhead's urn of glory poured.
The stars are thine—thy charactery grand In which upon the face of awful heaven,
Thy hand has traced, in radiant lines, thy grace, Thy glory, thy magnificence and power,
For eye of man and angel to behold,
And read, and gaze on, worship and adore. These shall grow old—the solid earth with years, Shall see her sapless body shrivel up,
And her gray mountains crumble piecemeal down, Like crypt and pyramid to primal dust.
The sea shall labour: on his hoary head
Shall wave his tresses silvered o'er with age— The deep pulsations of his mighty heart,
That bids the blood-like fluid circulate
Through every fibre of the earth, shall cease; And the eternal heavens in whose bright folds, As in a starry vesture, thou art girt,
Shall lose their lustre, and grow old with years, And as a worn-out garment thou shalt fold Their faded glories, and they shall be changed For Vesture bright, immortal as thyself.
Yea, the eternal heavens cn whose blue page Thy glory and magnificefce are traced,
With age shall tarnish, and shall be rolled up, As parchment scrolls of abrogated acts,
And be deposited in deathless urns,
Amid the archives of the mighty God.
THOU art the same, thy years shall never fail; In glory bright when every star and sun Shall lose their lustre and expire in night. Immortal all when time and slow decay Imprint their ravages on nature’s face. Triumphantly secure, when from the tower Of highest heaven’s imperial citadel,
The bell of nature's dissolution toll,
And sun, and star, and planet be dissolved, And the wide drapery of darkness hang,
A gloomy pall of sable mourning round Dead nature, in the grave of chaos laid.
