And now his arms unheeded clasp
The columns in their sinewy grasp;

But ere their strength he tries,
He breathes a pray'r in accents low,
"O let me strike one parting blow!
And though thy servant dies,
Yet help me, Jacob's God! I pray,
This temple in the dust to lay,
And thus these Philistines repay
For mine insulted eyes!"

He ceas'd, and lo! to ev'ry limb
He feels new vigour giv'n;
And upward lifts his eye-balls dim
In sign of thanks to heav'n.

He tugs, he bends,-the temple shakes,—
Again on God he calls;

One effort more,-each column breaks,—
The tott'ring fabric falls.
Arch, beam and rafter downward rush,
Roof, pinnacle and tow'r;

And lord and serf resistless crush

In one destructive show'r.

Three thousand tongues, in vaunting strain, To Dagon chaunted high;

And now beneath his ruin'd fane

Three thousand corpses lie.

One instant, pride's vain anthem blends
With music's choicest tone;

The next, for joy's loud note, ascends
A deep, a stifled groan:

And Dagon's pomp, and Gaza's trust
Are mingled with the vulgar dust.

Aghast the pale survivors stood,

So swift the scene had pass'd;

Like whirlwind through the bending wood,
Or o'er the deep the blast.
Then rose their dirges, long and loud,
For sons, for parents slain;

And oft that awe-struck, trembling crowd
Shall tell how Gaza's temple proud
Was scatter'd o'er the plain.

But while they thus to strangers shew
The story of their city's woe;

And these with wonder seek to know
How captive blind and lone
Could, by his single prowess, slay
Three thousand foemen in a day,
And splendid fane in ruins lay,
They must reluctant own
That Israel's God alone could deal
The blow their nation wept to feel.

The tidings now, to Israel's coast,
His friends with speed convey,
That Samson 'midst the buried host
Of prostrate Gaza lay.

The mournful news his parent's hear,
But joy is mingled with the tear
They drop upon their hero's bier.
And Israel's maids shall learn to praise
The champion in immortal lays,
Who oft with single arm withstood
His country's foes in mortal feud,
And wide her glories spread;
And when at length by guile betray'd,
So well th' uncircumcis'd repaid
For all the insults they had laid
On his defenceless head.

And oft shall bards of other times
Recount to men in distant climes,
(Perchance in rude, untutor'd rhymes)
All Samson's deeds of fame;

And children, as they hear the tale,
Shall turn with breathless terror pale,
And learn how human strength must quail
Before Jehovah's name;

Jehovah heav'n's eternal King,

Whose might ten thousand angels sing!

LIFE AFTER DEATH.

"Ir matters not: the world and I shall soon part company: an hour hence, and I am no more." The feeling which prompted such an ejaculation was not new to me; but the present amount of it was greater than I had ever before experienced. Misfortunes and vexations-heaped, thickening, apparently interminable and without mitigation, save in the quietness of death, had been my lot for years. I had struggled with them in vain : I had endeavoured to bear them, with a patience which, at first, and for long, I flattered myself, spite of occasional murmuring, was equally philosophical and promising;

:

but which, at length, I began to despise as no less unmanly than delusive and now, that my only remaining friend had given me all be could bestow, advice, which it was impossible to turn to any advantage, I resolved at once and for ever to end them.

"Let moralists prate as they like, in the complacency and haughtiness of prosperity," thought I, "human nature may be tried too much. Who can tell when it is so, but the unhappy sufferer himself? Endurance must be measured by his own sensibility, and the estimate he forms between what is to be surrendered and what he has to anticipate; not by the speculations and dogmas of other men, who know neither the peculiarities of his condition, nor, the limits of his capacity for wretchedness. Reason can be exercised only on what is perceived, remembered, expected. It would be foolish, even were it practicable, to indulge hope, when totally opposed by circumstances, which demand, indeed, but do not permit its consolations. I must abandon it, and life together: the grave is my sole remaining remedy. There needs