[From The Course of Time.]

LORD BYRON.

HE touched his harp, and nations heard, entranced.

As some vast river of unfailing

source,

Rapid, exhaustless, deep, his numbers flowed,

And oped new fountains in the human heart.

Where Fancy halted, weary in her flight,

In other men, his, fresh as morning,

rose

And soared untrodden heights, and seemed at home,

Where angels bashful looked. Others, though great Beneath their argument seemed struggling whiles;

He from above descending stooped to touch

The loftiest thought; and proudly stooped, as though

It scarce deserved his verse. With Nature's self

He seemed an old acquaintance, free to jest

At will with all her glorious majesty. He laid his hand upon "the Ocean's

mane,

And played familiar with his hoary locks; [ennines, Stood on the Alps, stood on the ApAnd with the thunder talked, as friend to friend;

And wove his garland of the light

ning's wing,

In sportive twist, the lightning's fiery wing,

Which, as the footsteps of the dreadful God,

Marching upon the storm in vengeance, seemed;

Then turned, and .with the grass. hopper, who sung

His evening song beneath his feet, conversed.

Suns, moons, and stars, and clouds, his sisters were;

Rocks, mountains, meteors, seas, and winds, and storms,

His brothers, younger brothers, whom he scarce

As equals deemed. All passions of all men,

The wild and tame, the. gentle and severe;

All thoughts, all maxims, sacred and profane;

All creeds, all seasons, Time, Eternity;

All that was hated, all too, that was dear;

All He tossed about, as tempest-withered leaves,

that was hoped, all that was feared, by man;

Then, smiling, looked upon the wreck he made.

With terror now he froze the cowering blood,

And now dissolved the heart in tenderness;

FROM "ELOISA TO ABELARD.”

IN these deep solitudes and awful cells,

Soon as thy letters trembling I unclose,

That well-known name awakens all my woes.

canie,

And Eloisa yet must kiss the name. Dear fatal name! rest ever unre

vealed,

Nor pass these lips, in holy silence sealed: [disguise, Hide it, my heart, within that close Where, mixed with God's, his loved idea lies:

O write it not, my hand-the name appears [tears! Already written-wash it out, my In vain lost Eloïsa weeps and prays, Her heart still dictates, and her hand obeys.

Relentless walls! whose darksome round contains Repentant sighs, and voluntary pains: Ye rugged rocks, which holy knees have worn:

Ye grots and caverns shagged with horrid thorn! Shrines! where their vigils pale-eyed virgins keep,

And pitying saints, whose statues learn to weep!

Though cold like you, unmoved and

name, for ever sad! for ever dear!

Still breathed in sighs, still ushered with a tear.

I tremble, too, whene'er my own I find;

Some dire misfortune follows close behind.

Line after line my gushing eyes o'erflow,

Led through a sad variety of woe: Now warm in love, now withering in my bloom,

Lost in a convent's solitary gloom! There stern religion quenched the unwilling flame,

There died the best of passions, love and fame.

Yet write, oh! write me all, that I may join

Griefs to thy griefs, and echo sighs to thine.

Nor foes nor fortune take this power away;

And is my Abelard less kind than they?

Tears still are mine, and those I need not spare,

Love but demands what else were shed in prayer;

No happier task these faded eyes pursue;

To read and weep is all they now can do.

Then share thy pain, allow that

sad relief;

Ah, more than share it! give me all thy grief.

Heaven first taught letters for some wretch's aid,

Some banished lover, or some captive maid;

They live, they speak, they breathe what love inspires, Warm from the soul, and faithful to its fires,

What if the head, the eye, or ear re pined

To serve mere engines to the ruling

mind?

Just as absurd for any part to claim To be another, in this general frame: Just as absurd, to mourn the tasks or pains,

The great directing Mind of All ordains.

All are but parts of one stupendous whole,

Whose body nature is, and God the soul;

That, changed through all, and yet in all the same,

Great in the earth, as in the ethereal frame, [breeze, Warms in the sun, refreshes in the Glows in the stars, and blossoms in the trees;

Lives

through all life, extends through all extent,

Spreads undivided, operates unspent; Breathes in our soul, informs our mortal part,

As full, as perfect, in a hair as heart; As full, as perfect, in vile man that mourns,

As the rapt seraph, that adores and

All discord, harmony not understood;
All partial evil, universal good:
And, spite of pride, in erring reason's
spite,

One truth is clear, Whatever is, is right.

[From An Essay on Man.] CHARITY, GRADUALLY PERVASIVE.

GOD loves from whole to parts; but human soul

Must rise from individual to the whole.

Self-love but serves the virtuous mind to wake,

As the small pebble stirs the peaceful lake;

The centre moved, a circle straight succeeds,

Another still, and still another spreads;

Friend, parent, neighbor, first it will embrace;

His country next, and next all human

race;

Wide, and more wide, the o'erflowings of the mind

Take every creature in, of every kind;

Earth smiles around, with boundless bounty blest,

The joy unequalled, if its end it gain, And if it lose, attended with no pain: Without satiety, though e'er so blest, And but more relished as the more distressed:

breast.

place acquired,

Slave to no sect, who takes no private road,

But looks through nature up to nature's God;

Pursues that chain which links the immense design,

Joins heaven and earth, and mortal and divine;

Sees that no being any bliss can know,

But touches some above, and some below;

Learns from this union of the rising whole,

The first, last purpose of the human soul;

And knows where faith, law, morals, all began,

All end, in love of God and love of

[From An Essay on Criticism.]
WIT.

TRUE wit is nature to advantage dressed;

What oft was thought, but ne'er so well expressed: Something, whose truth, convinced at sight we find,

That gives us back the image of our mind.

As shades more sweetly recommend the light,

So modest plainness sets off sprightly wit.

For works may have more wit than does them good,

As bodies perish through excess of blood.