278 RUINS-THE SABBATH. A gray wall, a green ruin, rusty pike, Make my soul pass the equinoctial line But in green ruins, in the desolate walls Between the present and past worlds, and Though the dun fox or wild hyena calls, hover Upon their airy confine, half-seas over. BYRON. And owls that flit continually between, Shriek to the echo, and the low wind moan, There the true silence is, self-conscious and alone. HOOD. There is given Unto the things of earth, which time hath I asked of Time from whom those temples rose, bent, A spirit's feeling; and where he hath leant And magic in the ruined battlement, BYRON. What we have seen our sons shall see; BYRON. These perishing arcades, These mouldering plinths, these sad and These vague entablatures, this broken frieze, All of the proud and the colossal left E. A. POE. Thou who within thyself dost not behold But, alas! if mightiest empires leave so little Or lack'st the spirit of a pilgrim here. mark behind, How much less must heroes hope for in the wreck of human kind! PARSONS. Fallen pile! I ask not what has been thy fate; But when the weak winds, wafted from the main, Through each rent arch, like spirits that complain, Come hollow to my ear, I meditate On this world's passing pageant, and the lot Of those who once full proudly in their prime And beauteous might have stood, 'till bowed by time. BOWLES. Youth hath its walls of strength, its towers of pride, Love its warm hearth-stones, Hope its prospects Life's fortress in thee, held these one and all, MRS. F. K. BUTLER. THE SABBATH. Yes, child of suffering, thou may'st well be sure He who ordained the Sabbath loves the poor. Bright shadows of true rest! some shoots of Arise, ye nations, with rejoicing rise, bliss; Heaven once a week; And tell your gladness to the listening skies; The next world's gladness prepossest in this; From halls of mirth and iron gates of toil; Till one loud paan hails the day of peace. Sing, trembling age, ye youths and maidens sing; Ring, ye sweet chimes, from every belfry ring, Pour the grand anthem till it soars and swells, And heaven seems full of great aerial bells! Sabbaths observe; think when the bells do Behold the morn from orient chambers glide With shining footsteps, like a radiant bride; Rise, ye sweet maidens, strew her path with flowers, With sacred lilies from your virgin bowers; Go, youths, and meet her with your olive boughs; Go, age, and greet her with your holiest Vows; See where she comes, her hands upon her breast, The sainted Sabbath comes, and smiles the world to rest. T. B. READ. Fresh glides the brook and blows the gale, So rest, O weary heart! but, lo! The church spire, glistening up to heaven, To warn thee where thy thoughts should go The day thy God hath given. BULWER. The cheerful Sabbath bells, wherever heard, Strike pleasant on the sense, most like the voice Of one who from the far-off hills proclaims CHARLES LAMB. Hail, Sabbath! thee I hail, the poor man's day; Hail, holy day! the blessing from above And summer's heat by neighboring hedge or Bearing the promise of their heavenly rest. Thou hidden Source of calm repose, And lo! from sin, and grief, and shame, And keeps my happy soul above: C. WESLEY. A cheerful confidence I feel, My well placed hopes with joy I see; My bosom glows with heavenly zeal To worship Him who died for me. As man, he pities my complaint; His power and truth are all divine; He will not fail, he cannot faint; Salvation's sure, and must be mine. COWPER. O how shall I the goodness tell, I should be called a child of God, C. WESLEY. Jesus lives! and from his love Satan's wrath, nor Sinai's thunder; From the German of GELLERT. But thou art true, incarnate Lord! No change can falsify. I bent before thy gracious throne, And asked for peace with suppliant knee; And peace was given, nor peace alone, But faith, and hope, and ecstacy! WORDSWORTH. |