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Trusting thee, Javan, with a faith as fearless
As that which the instinctive infant twines
To its mother's bosom—Love thee! when the sounds
Of massacre are round me, when the shouts
Of frantic men in battle rack the soul
With their importunate and jarring din,
Javan, I think on thee, and am at peace.
Our famish'd maidens gaze on me, and see
That I am famish'd like themselves, as pale,
With lips as parch'd and eyes as wild, yet I
Sit patient with an enviable smile
On my wan cheeks, for then my spirit feasts -
Contented on its pleasing thoughts of thee.
My very prayers are fuls of thee, I look
To heaven and bless thee; for from them I learnt
The way by which we reach the eternal mansions.
But thou, injurious Javan! coldly doubtest,
And—Oh! but I have said too much. Oh! scorn not
The immodest maid, whom thou hast vex'd to utter
What yet she scarce dared whisper to herself.
Javan. Will it then cease! will it not always sound
Sweet, musical as thus? and wilt thou leave me?
Miriam My father!
Javan. Miriam' is not thy father
(Oh, that such flowers should bloom on such a stock!)
The curse of Israel? even his common name
Simon the assassin! of the bloody men
That hold their iron sway within yon city,
The bloodiest' -
Miriam. O cease, I pray thee cease!
Javan! I know that all men hate my father!
Javan! I fear that all should hate my father;
And therefore, Javan, must his daughter's love,
Her dutiful, her deep, her servent love,
Make up to his forlorn and desolate heart
The forfeited affection of his kind.
Is it not written so in our Law? and He
We worship came not to destroy the Law.
Then let men rain their curses, let the storm
Of human hate beat on his rugged trunk,

I will cling to him, starve, die, bear the scoffs
men upon my scatter'd bones with him.
Javan. Oh, Miriam! what a fatal art has thou
Of winding thought, word, act, to thy sole purpose;
The enamouring one even now too much enamour'd!
I must admire thee more for so denying,
Than I had dared if thou hadst fondly granted.
Thou dost devote thyself to utterest peril,
And me to deepest anguish; yet even now
Thou art lovelier to me in thy cold severity
§ me, leaving me without a joy,
ithout a hope on earth, without thyself;
Thou art lovelier now than if thy yielding soul
Had smiled on me a passionate consent.
Go; for I see thy Poling homeward look,
Go in thy beauty! like a setting star,
The last in all the thick and moonless heavens,
O'er the lone traveller in the trackless desert.
Go! if this dark and miserable earth
Do jealously refuse us place for meeting,
There is a heaven for those who trust in Christ.
MILMAN.

HARMONY.

EFTsoons they heard a most melodious sound, Of all that mote delight a dainty eare, Such as at once might not on living ground, Save in this paradise, be heard elsewhere: Right hard was it for wight that did it heare, o read what manner musick that mote be: For all that pleasing is to living eare Was there consorted in one harmonie, Birds, voices, instruments, windes, waters, all agree. The joyous birds shrouded in chearful shade, Their notes unto the voyce attemp'red sweet; The angel call soft trembling voyces made To the instruments divine respondence meet: The silver sounding instruments did meet

With the base murmure of the water's fall ; The waters fall, with difference discreet, Now soft, now loud, unto the wind did call, The gently warbling wind lowe answering to all, SPENSER.

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Go, lovely rose!
Tell her that wastes her time, and me,
- That now she knows,
When I resemble her to thee,
How sweet and fair she seems to be.
Tell her that's young,
And shuns to have her graces spied,
That, hadst thou sprung
In deserts, where no men abide,
Thou must have uncommended died
Small is the worth
Of beau; from the light retir’d;
id her come forth,
Suffer herself to be desir'd,
And not blush so to be admir’d.
Then die! that she
The common fate of all things rare
May read in thee;
How small a part of time they share,
That are so wondrous sweet and fair!
WALLER.

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O THou great arbiter of life and death !
Nature's immortal, immaterial sun
whose all-prolific beam late call'd me forth
From darkness, teeming darkness, where I lay
The worm's inferior, and, in rank, beneath

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The dust I tread on, high to bear my brow,
To drink the spirit of the golden day,
And triumph in existence; and couldst know
No motive but my bliss ; with Abraham's joy,
Thy call I follow to the land unknown;
I trust in thee, and know in whom I trust;
Or life or death is equal; neither weighs;
All weight in this–0 let me live to thee!
YoUNG.

BE LIN D A.

Not with more glories in th' ethereal plain,
The sun first rises o'er the purpled main,
Than, issuing forth, the rival of his beams
Launch'd on the bosom of the silver Thames.
Fair nymphs, and well-drest youths, around hershone;
But ev'ry eye was fix'd on her alone.
On her white breast a sparkling cross she wore,
Which Jews might kiss, and Infidels adore.
Her lively looks a sprightly mind disclose,
Quick as her eyes, and as unfixt as those;
Favours to none, to all she smiles extends;
Oft she rejects, but never once offends.
Bright as the sun her eyes the gazers strike,
o like the sun, they shine on all alike.
Yet graceful ease, and sweetness void of pride,
Might hide their faults, if belles had faults to hide
If to her share some female errors fall,
Look on her face, and you'll forget them al,

OPE.

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My eye, descending from the hill, surveys
Where Thames among the wanton yalleys strays.
Thames, the most lov'd of all the Ocean's sons
By his old sire, to his embraces runs;

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Hasting to pay his tribute to the sea,
Like mortal life to meet etermity.
Though with those streams he no resemblance hold
Whose foam is amber, and their gravel gold,
His genuine and less guilty wealth to explore,
Search not his bottom, but survey his shore,
O'er which he kindly spreads his spacious wing,
And hatches plenty for th' ensuing spring;
Nor then destroys it with too fond a stay,
Like mothers ..., their infants overlay;
Nor with a sudden and impetuous wave,
Like profuse kings, resumes the wealth he gave.
No unexpected inundations spoil
The mower's hopes, or mock the ploughman's toil:
But godlike his unwearied bounty flows;
First loves to do, then loves the good he does.
Nor are his blessings to his banks confin'd,
But free and common, as the sea or wind ;
When he, to boast or to disperse his stores,
Full of the tributes of his grateful shores,
Visits the world, and in his flying tow’rs
Brings home to us, and makes both Indies ours;
Finds wealth where 'tis, bestows it where it wants;
Cities in deserts, woods in cities, plants.
So that to us, no thing, no place is strange, .
While his fair bosom is the world's exchange."
O could I flow like thee, and make thy stream
My great example, as it is my theme!
Though deep, yet clear; though gentle, yet not dull;
Strong without rage, without o'erflowing full.
Heav'n her Eridanus no more shall boast,
Whose fame in thine, like lesser current, 's lost.
Thy nobler streams shall visit Jove's abodes,
To shine among the stars,” and bathe the gods.
DENHAM.

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