ceeded; the old woman recovered her speech and, as so

THE POOR AND THE POOR LAWS. frequently happens inthe hour of death, recovered also the full power of her mind, and told that she wanted to ALTHOUGH there may be unquestionable data for ascatch the cat, and when this sprang away from her, she suming that England is the greatest country in the world, fell to the ground. In the evening she died, but before we must by no means take pride to ourselves that we that time Stephan was restored to liberty.

have all the attributes of a great people. There is conWhen the grandmother was buried, Stephan stood fessedly much about us that is small, much from which weeping over her open grave; those were the last tears we ought to endeavour to purge ourselves. Care should which he shed on his native soil, for in undisturbed be taken that we are not excessively humane on the one peace he now prepared for his emigration. His charac- hand, or extremely cruel on the other-in fact, that we ter had become strengthened by his battle with himself have not in our nature too great a mixture of good and and the world.

evil. If we look into our Arts and Sciences, we have He had been saved out of the deepest temptations; therein names of which we are justly proud --- Reynolds, he had become acquainted with himself and those who Wilkie, Watt, Arkwright, Cavendish, Davy, and a thoubelonged to him through severe trial, and now he was in sand others whom we could name, are men whom any unity with himself and them. He could now with re- country would honour. As a literary nation we occupy newed courage prepare for a new life.

no mean position-England has produced men whose The schoolmaster and Stephan had also a new writings will live for all time. If we examine our bond of union between them; they had become ac- wealth we shall find that we are the richest nation in quainted with the prisons of their native land. Stephan the world. Our exports, alone exceed in amount the had persevered in his scheme of emigration, but only in whole revenue of many kingdoms, and our empire exthe same way that he ate his supper on the first evening tends over one third of the globe. The sun never sets when he made his acquaintance, only because he had on our dominions--a company of British merchants rule, determined to do so, and without its having a relish ; de facto, a country one of the richest and most extensive now, however, there was a new excitement; he had on the face of the globe. We are unquestionably masendured a public punishment for a combat in his own ters of the ocean, and it is true what a celebrated foheart.

reigner once said to us—"You conquer one half of the Stephan and the schoolmaster with their families world and you bully the other.” But with all this brightwere among the very first who were enabled, by aid of ness in our national picture, a terrible fact stares us in the society which was just then established for the pro- the face. In the back-ground may be seen in unquestection of emigrants, to remove to North America. tionable colours the glaring amount of destitution we

From the time of leaving their native village until possess beyond other nations of the world. How is this? they reached the place of their destination were they A country so magnanimously great and wealthy as to afconveyed from one kind hand to another, and they often ford shelter to the exiled foreigner--to give freedom to the silently blessed those who, out of no self-interest, but slave, and yet to possess the most poor. Impossible! one from pure human-kindness smoothed to them the sor- would say. But, alas! too true. It is a fact, a stubborn, rowful path of emigration.

a great fact, and what is more, the tide of national humaStephan's youngest child, which bore the name of nity as been rolling against our own poor. A bad law and the grandmother, learned to run alone on American the apathy of its administrators to the wants and habits ground, and he loved to call it “Grandmother," and of the poor have placed us in this dreadful position.thus to keep alive the memory of the deceased. What have they done ? Have they suppressed mendicity?

Look at the innumerable number of beggars that infest our streets and homes-see them clothed in nature's

hideousness, until we are disposed to question whether A VALENTINE.

they were originally intended to walk erect. Is crime

dismayed by the harsh treatment of the poor? Alas! By W. C. BENNETT.

see the daily records of our police courts --magistrates

assaulted in the open streets--windows belonging to the Prithee, said I, heart of mine,

courts of justice broken! bread stolen! and for what? Who shall be my valentine ?

-that the poor wretches may obtain in gaol that proAnd my heart it made reply,

tection which they are illegally denied by the authoriWith a start and with a sigh,

ties of unions and workhouses. These things are too For the matter care not I,

true. They have all occurred within these few weeks.Nay in sooth the choice be thine

Where then our boasted greatness--in arts--in sciences Who shall be thy valentine.

---in literature-our vast empire !-Shame on us!-We

should clothe ourselves “ in sackcloth and ashes"-we Nay, thy secret prithee tell,

should expunge from our national flag the lion rampant, Trust me, heart, I know it well

and place in its stead the figure of a poor starving wretch By thy current's quick retreat,

dying from want at the door of an union worklouse. Breathless pause and fluttering beat,

We have said that the tide of our national humanity By the flushes quick to mcet

has long been flowing against the poor. It is true--men Her sweet coming, know I well

in authority act on this principle. The Lord Mayor of All, and more than thou can'st tell.

London does so, while the City begrudges the sum of

£4000, about one half the Lord Mayor's salary, for the Said I, silly heart reveal

support of the casual poor. Of what use are the daily What thou canst no more conceal,

examples of individual sacrifice for the public good ? And my heart that found no use

Men like Lord Ashley and Mr. Cabbell may spend their Further 'twas to urge excuse

time and patience in mitigating the sufferings of the Gave its curbed passion loose

poor, but of what use are our hospitals and houses of Emma, would that thou wert mine,

refuge for the destitute while persons in authority act Mine--for aye my valentine.

so inhumanly. Let us not be charged with a maudlin Greenwich.

sentimentality in favour of the poor. We possess no such feelings. We say that it will be found to be the


soundest principle of social economy to afford food and

A WELCOME TO EMERSON. shelter to the deserving and destitute, but to punish the impostor. Why a worm would turn on us if cruelly

WELCOME brave thinker! Comest thou to drop treated, and inhuman conduct will rouse the most docile

Into our lifc the plummet of thy thought, spirit. The same blood courses through the reins of the

And by thy soundings give us faith, and hope poor as the rich-their hearts and pulses beat alike

In Truth and Liberty ? Or hast thou brought nature made the same air for both, nor can the rich man

The subtle harmonies of song, by thee respire oftener than his unfortunate fellow-creature. To

Learned in the antient forests, to unfold look at the picture is most discouraging. To see the

For us the delicate sphere of melody; laws, and the dispensers of the laws very frequently de

To bear our spirits upward, and to mould clare against the interests of the poor is not

very hope

Our manhood into strength, and love like thine, ful sight. But things will yet change for the better, for

And take us with thee into Nature's shrine ? although we find but one or two individuals sacrificing the whole of their time and money for the benefit of

Welcome thou clear discerner of the light, their fellow creatures, the seed which they are sowing

Beaming through the world's sladow upon man. must eventually bring forth fruits. It is to be hoped for

Lead us to follow thee up to the height the honour--for the interest of the nation, that we shall Of purer thought and vision, and to scan see our error in neglecting the interests of the poor.

The hopeful future and the signs that loom Our statesmen and our authorities should endeavour to Over our present, big with peace, and truth : find work for those who are able and willing to do it,

Quicken our ears to hear the knell of doom and food for those who are in distress and unable to la Rung o'er all tyranny; we feel the youth bour. Both are to be had-God never designed that

Of the world's action in our spirits play, men should live in idleness, nor that they should starve.

Welcome brave preacher, pointer of our way. He has given us abundance, and as Heaven has done its part, man should take care to do his also. While we are, as we ought to be, a great people, we should be so in every sense of the word. To be great we must be good—to be good we must be humane—and to be hu

Literary Notices. mane we must have no more Deaths from Starvation." They tell against the character of the nation. If the Poor Law is bad, and no one doubts it, let it be Ecclesia Dei: a Vision of the Church. London: Longamended.

man & Co. Tempora mutantur et nos mutamur in illis."

HERE we have a little volume, written, as is very eviTo persevere in a headlong course of oppression to-dent, by a clergyman of the Established Church, at wards the poor is inconsistent with the interests of all once learned, zealous, and possessing great poetical and classes. The nation should be governed as if we were satirical powers; which deserves, and, we think, will all one family, and though the guilty should be punished, attract very marked attention. When the very servants we have no right to condemn the innocent.

of the altar begin in strains so energetic, and unsparing as this, to denounce and expose the corrupt condition of that church, it is high time that those who have the

power, should look to a resolute reform of the mischief. THE SIN OF SUFFERING.

The author appears to be one of those who would be

classed with the Puseyite party, but to our mind he BY WILLIAM KENNEDY.

must be classed with the best section of that party. He

is evidently a man whose poetical and humane disposi“What call you that creature, dark couched in its tion leads him to regard everything which is connected

with the dignity and beauty of his system of devotion, “It once was called woman"

and with the advantage of the people, with peculiar in“Why lurketh she there? terest. The fine old gothic architecture, and the music

and chanting of the cathedral service have seized on all I hear a low moaning, the hovel within,

the poetic sympathies of his nature. He deplores their An infant one crying-sure here must be sin!” neglect, and desecration, but he does not the less deA dying voice murmurs--" The worst of all sins,

plore the mercenary practice which, by pews, at once Which, from sisters and brothers, small sympathy wins!" defaces the interior of our churches, and shuts out the

poor from their proper enjoyment. He has an eye for “ Thou wretched hut-dweller, now give it a name

the picturesque, the venerable, and the English in our This sin, without solace, must wed thee to shame ?"

old country-houses, parsonages, and deaneries, but he

does not fail to lay lustily on the base spirits that have " To shame and to sorrow I'm wedded—a curse

contrived to creep into them. Lies on the poor baby, as well as its nurse!”

The poetry has a fine musical rhythm, reminding us

of the versification of Moile, and of Rogers, with the “ But name me the sin which to sorrow hath wedded satiric vigour, and boldness of Churchill. He treats And shame, the pale pair in the straw-heap embedded ? ' the bishops as they richly deserve, but he passes ten“The sin and the curse we are bound to endure,

derly over the cause which makes them what they are, You view it-we feel it—we're poor--we are poor!

the immense and ill-distributed wealth of the church, The will of the stronger has fashioned the law,

and its unnatural alliance with the state. The Kingdom Which leaves us these rags and this heap of old straw;

of Christ never was the Kingdom of this world, and The scowl of the stronger upbraids us, for being

never will be, let men do all they can to make it so. The work of that will—the sad wreck you are seeing !" themselves. Make statesmen of them and they will be

Secularize the church, and its bishops will secularize They have passed from the hovel-she ceases to moan come sorry shepherds of the flock of Christ. Make A motherless babe's in the wide world alone.

them very rich, and put them into nicely lined carriages,



and set them down to a continual feast, and cocker them a pastoral charge with a modest income, and a clear up with all sorts of absurd titles, as, My Lord Bishop, understanding that he is to mind his spiritual duties, and Right Reverend Father in God, and His Grace, and and nothing else, and you will have a good servant of the like; enthrone them and bedizen them with fan- God and man, call him what you will. Take another, tastic robes; and set them up in Parliament before the and make him as rich as a Jew; let him be an aspiring whole body of temporal peers, and give them all sorts adventurer naturally; and set all sorts of worldly of worldly duties to perform, and worldly goods to take grandeur and rivalries, and still loftier heights and care of, and if you can make decent pastors of God's prizes before him; dip him deep in the gall-fountain of flock out of them, why then you may make an Elihu politics, and you'll get-just such as you do get. Our Burritt out of the Iron Duke, or you may do any other author sees plainly what they are, and what the consemiracle that you have a mind to.

quence is. He says, “Who so blind as not to see the But what says our able and candid author of the estrangement of affection and alienation of heart which Bishops ? here is a bit of his prose,—"A man may such palpable discrepancy and chilliness is calculated, question the policy or the taste of thus charging home and, indeed, almost sure to engender? This, indeed, upon the Bishops of the Church the sad estate of the is but a sample, yet it is a frequent sample of the manChurch herself; but can any one deny the fact—the ner in which the bishops forget themselves, their high fact, I mean, of their being notoriously deficient in office, their holy, yet humble brethren. But men do those gifts and graces which should be inseparable from not, therefore, forget them. They see them without a bishop and overseer of Christ's Church? Where is natural affection, or heart, or inclination for either the their gentleness? Where their kindness and other than things or persons of the church, so they cease to love, bare civil courtesy, and cold hospitality to their hum- begin to hate, and end in despising them, and disclaim bler and poorer brethren of the clergy and laity of the ing their jurisdiction and power. Then it is that the church? Where their heartiness and zeal towards the lay-peers vote them nuisances, the crown contemns, church itself? The bishops of old time built, endowed, and the prime minister of the day, who may make layand "visited.” The bishops of to-day meet in St. Mar- peers by the score, with seats in Parliament, and no one tin's-place, and vote themselves houses with other peo- find any fault with him therefor, excludes every ple's money, and contract for cheap church fabrics new bishop from the house until some elder brother has which they never, or scarcely ever see-never, perhaps, died off to give him his seat.” but on the day of consecration--and “ visit” in the

Such are bishops in our author's prose, what are they sense of a continual personal interest and oversight not in his poetry? at all. "If with the clergy, if with the churchwardens, if

Again I say, what wonder is there, when with the children of the parish, bishops did but know

Bishops be such, that such are meaner men ? how greatly their kind and parental influence would act

That such be bishops—what? when they who make in the way of comfort, encouragement, and quickening

Bishops, such notions of a Bishop take of the spirit of love and to good works, they would not

As Graham voided erewhile in the Houseartificially but naturally, not politically but spiritually,

Graham, Rat Robert's most consentient mouse; become through God's most present and ready grace,

Who deems, he says, from living proofs, that all themselves the most popular of men. Whereas, what

A Bishop has to do is nought withal, are they now? Almost unknown in their dioceses, save

But once in each three years to come and lay

His hand on little boys, and go his way, by some casually occurring confirmation or church meeting; or, at most, by a chance counter-signature of

And for another three enjoy his pay; some formal Queen's letter of demand for money, which

His Palace, dinners, clubs and rents enjoy, should, in justice, have been the alms of the church to Sans interruption, hindrance, or annoy. the poor belonging thereto, and worshipping under the

From parish priest, or little girl or boy! shelier of those walls within which the offertory was

Save that of each year's ember-days some twain gathered. The writer of this has known a quire of boys

He needs must choose, whereon church clerks t'ordain, walk voluntarily a very considerable distance to see a

And this beside no further charge hath he bishop, and make their dutiful obeisance to him, who,

On time or purse for hospitality; when he passed them close by, never deigned to look at

To him for rede or rule no brother goes; them, and took no notice of them at all. How at variance

He sees few Rectors, not a Curate knows. was this with His precept and practice who said —

A Prelate he, to lordly post preferred, “ Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them

They but th'ignoble "working clergy" herd; not, for of such is the kingdom of God.”

And if they really must communicate True, but then Christ inade bishops in a very different

With him, as touching church or parish state, way; and would expect nothing from such bishops as A penny pays the half-ounce letter's weight! we make but what such bishops do. His bishops

Men without influence would gain influence so; walked on foot, ours ride in carriages. His bishops

• Omnis ignotus pro magnifico!' sate on rocks, and fed the poor with loaves and fishes; Keep Bishops out of sight, and great they seem; ours sit on thrones and look after the loaves and fishes

Unveil them; and they vanish like a dream. for themselves. His bishops were poor and humble,

Unloved, unloving, how unlike are they ours are rich and fat, and therefore proud. His bishops

Their sainted brethren of an elder day.” did all the good they could and suffered for it; ours do no good at all, and are rewarded for it. It surprises one The author. gives us a passing sample of the Bishop to see clever men like our author-capital logicians and crew, and singles out Philpotts for a most vigorous and shrewd fellows altogether, expecting to gather grapes

deserved onslaught. from thorns, and figs from thistles. Expecting that a

“Immortal Philpotts! man infatuate! thing shall be anything but the thing for which its

In wisdom dwarf-like, but in mischief great, material, construction, and circumstances form it. A

Brother Benhadad's most approved matesteam-engine is not a wet-nurse nor a common milch

In leading men to scrapes, then leaving them, cow, for reasons that everybody sees. They never were

First to command, and foremost to condemn. made to be such; they can be only what they are. Take an humble, pious, loving man, then, and put him into

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From all such cruel step-fathers, may He

To good of men on earth, to God in heaven. The God of love defend his family:

The village poor, the tenants on the estate, And grant us overseers of the flock,

The petty farmers, and the farmers great, Whose chair of state may be the Church's rock; The yeoman freeholder, the country squire, Where far and wide, o'er meadow and fresh brook, The acred gentry, up and down the shire-They may their church's champaign lands o'erlook, All love the hall-folk, and their love desire :: And love each modest spire, that, o'er the green True to their church, their country, and their king; And shadowy grove that guards it as a screen,

They stand the centre of a charmed ringJust peers aloft, and peeps as doubting to be seen: A bower of joyance wherein peace doth dwell And love each old grey tower, that, strong or old, Fresh as the palm-tree grove o'er Elim's silvery well. Stands like a fortalice of borderer bold,

Stately, yet sweet as yonder trancing scene, Stemming from day to day, from year to year

The hall's fair garden with its alleys greenThe tide of war, the foeman's fierce career.”

Thorn hedge, like wall of some beleagured hold,

And leafy maze, with windings manifold : With a like searching and honest quill the poet passes Walks terraced high with marbled steps and urns, through deanery, college, and cathedral, goading callous And there a wilderness of flowery turns, indifference, and casting a kindly eye on the poor and Hither and thither leading to and fro, neglected. He places with much pathos before you the

To the dark fish-pools—in their beds below. poor Cathedral-boy Michael, who

While all around, her arms form native wreaths, day by day and hour by hour Aad the sun glistens whilst the west wind breathes ; Faded and fell to earth-a gentle flower

And ever as the winds those bright leaves shake, Whose sweet breath oft had chcered that fragrant Sparks, as of shot-stars, from the foliage break, garden-bower.

Lightning, as if with tongues of fairy fire, But jostled by rank plants. pent up, confined,

The hollows of that Pleasaunce of Desire, Thrust in the shade and poisoned, there he pined; A fairy scene, in sooth, and false as fair ; With none to shield him, or his cause maintain : The race of Pursey Pouliers dwelleth there. Bullied and bruised, yet scorning to complain.” Poulter the Great! the great Protectionist !

The great Church-patron--at election list! Put we must not be tempted too far. There are many The great Church-plunderer--at Commission-Board, sweet sketches of gabled deanery, minster library, and The great tithe-hater--tithes by all abhorred, the like, as well as lusty flagellation of the clerkly te Save those who steal them from the Church's lordnants of " Epicurus' sty,” but we will close our no Great Agriculturist, with whose great scythe tice with one which is most English in two senses. The landed gentry learn to mow down tithe, English equally in the scenery and the character which Great justice, ever judging for himself, it introduces. The volume is one as remarkable for its Great judge, of horse-flesh, oxen-flesh, and pell; poetic merit as for its singular honesty and boldness. All Great joker--at the poor in work-house pent; those who love their country and wish well to it, both Great jeerer--at the priest on duty bent; churchmen and others should read it.

Great jester at all men and things that wear “ Dear homes of England ! dear unto mine heart !

A look of holiness, and, if less rare How glad we greet you, and how sad we part!

Than once a week, a giber great at prayer! When through the flower-crowned lodge we wind and

O Justice Pursey Poulter, coarse and fat,

With liver white as is thy week-day hat, pass Along the moss-way, over the soft grass ;

Though black thy Sunday beaver-yet than that Up toward the hall, fast by the green wood-side

More black is thy black-heart-go, fare ye well, Skirting the bank with flowerets pinked and pied.

Thou and thy kith and kin;--when rang thy bell

For the last time to let me out, I felt
Then through the tall-grown grove, where trunks

Like qualmy ice just rescued from a smelt.
The path-way lies, at whose far end is seen
A mulliond window, through whose tracery lines,

Alas! that England's Island-homes should be

The mansions of the Poulter family: of branches wrought, the glorious sun-light shines Like the east window of our minster shrines.

That they should house them there who ought to dwell Then down the velvet slope, beneath whose breast

No where but in the sides of Dante's hell :
Of swelling turf the hall lies manifest,
In all its lordly garb of red and brown-

Bred, at good things and honest men to rail,
Time-toned and dim, the Hall of Underdown.

To vegetate when finer nature's failToward whose high gabled porch that tops the roof,

And gorge and swill much pudding and more ale." Whence quaint, fantastic chimneys reek aloof Our light limbs bear us, while our glad hearts beat

Sketches of Protestantism in Italy, Past and Present, In those calm courts with thoughts of eld to meet

with an account of the Waldenses. By ROBERT Manners all holy, as on holy ground

BAIRD, D.D., New York. Collins : Glasgow and Lon

don. Looks patriarchal, like the trees around, And customs ancient as the casks of wine

This is a reprint of an American work, and in a comThat deep within those cellared vaults recline. pact form, contains a complete view of the past perseHushed mirth, yet hearty-joy sincere, though staid, cutions and present statistics of Protestantism in Italy. Meet for that race that there their home have made

It would be well for those who are intending to visit And walked and mused in yon fair colonnade

that fine country, to read this volume ere setting out. At day-break, when for chapel-bell too soon, Or in the silence of the summer noon, Or at fresh fall of eve, or underneath the moon : A Christian household !--for methinks therein None but a house of Christ could ere have been: Their thoughts, their hopes, their being wholly given






Nobody notices my birth-day,

The people are silent on my birth-day, No roaring of cannon, no rocket display,

Yo bon-fires blaze on my birth-day.

“O pleasant hour! O moment ever sweet !
When once again we reach the calm retreat,
Where looks of love and tones of joy abide-
That heaven on earth-our dear, our own fireside !"

Heaviside's Pleasures of Home. When Autumn's fruits are gather'd in,

And trees and fields are bare ;
When merry birds no more are heard

To warble in the air ;
When sweetest flowers have droop'd and died,

And snow is on the ground ;
How cheerful is an English hearth,

With friends all seated round !

No barrels are broached on my birth-day,

No healths go round on my birth-day, No gentlemen sit in splendid array

Round the smoking sirloin, on my birth-day.

No music is heard on my birth-day,

No tales are told on my birth-day, The world goes on in its jog-trot way,

And never attends to my birth-day.

Then is the time for festive mirth,

Then is the time for glee ; 'Tis then the tales of by-gone days

Give pleasure unto me :
And when the wild storm howls without,

With deep and hollow sound,
I love the cheerful English hearth,

With friends all seated round.

No bard is inspired on my birth-day,

To woo the muse on my birth-day, To pour forth the bought, or the unbought lay

In praise of me on my birth-day.

And when those touching strains are sung,

Writ by the bards of old,
IIow swift the evening seems to fly ;-

Unfelt the piercing cold :
What though the snow-flakes thickly fall,

And icicles abound !
I have a cheerful English hearth

For friends to sit around.

But why this neglect on my birth-day?

Of common respect on my birth-day !-I cannot look back on a fair array

of Dukes and Earls on my birth-day.

No lineage ennobles my birth-day,

No broad lands smile on my birth-day, My siresno hides of land seized they

Too honest by half--for my birth-day!

And when the clouds of worldly care

Are gathering o'er my brow; When sorrow's frost hath nipt my heart,

And check'd the blood's warm flow; When grief has in her heavy chain

My buoyant spirits bound;
How cheering is an English hearth,

With friends all seated round.



“Good night," we say with careless lip and brow, Good night," we smile to some beloved embrace, While gazing on a dear familiar face; We look not farther than the present now, Forgetting that a morrow may not dawn For us on earth ; to

morrow we may be Beyond the stars, and our eternal morn May open on us; we may ne'er foresee, If we shall waken to earth's blooms again, Or view the brilliant flowers of Paradise ; If we again shall greet our fellow men, Or heaven dawn on our death-strengthened eyes; • Good night," perchance the night may soon be o'er, “Good night,"--perhaps good night, for evermore.

Though slander's foul, envenomed shafts

Should pierce my spirit through, There is one smile, one sunlit eye,

To beam upon me now; And though my fate should be to roam

Where strangers all are found, I'll think upon my English hearth,

And friends who sat around.


BY J. D.

Man, grieve not though thine eye sees not

Beyond the far horizon's bound : Complain not though thine intellect

So weak and limited is found ?

Then fill each glass with nut-brown ale,

And smoke the fragrant weed ;
Our English hearths we will protect

In every hour of need :-
Come, let us drink one parting toast,

Though Europe let it sound;
It is, the cheerful English hearth,

With friends all seated round.
There's a voice on the breeze and its wailings are dread,
For it comes from the land of the starving and dead.
And it startles the wretch with his thousands untold,
And he pities aud prays, but he sticks to his gold;
And it sighs through the aisle in the Temple of God,
But is mock'd with the cry 'tis His chastening rod !-
And it steals on the slumber of Princes and Kings,
And whispers forebodings of terrible things;
Aud it sweeps o'er the hall where the mighty ones tread,
And groans as it passes, "Give, Oh! give us bread!"
There's a curse on the breeze for the man and his store,
Who pilfers his wealth from the woes of the poor.
A canker-worm crawls through the pleasure it bays,
And it gnaws at his heart till, detested, he dies.

From hill to hill, through vales make way

And form a new horizon's bound : From truth to truth, in toil ascend,

And day by day take in fresh ground !

The sun, the ruler of the heavens,

Sees not at once the wide earth o'er : Shall man, a tenant of the earth,

The heavens with a glance explore ?

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