Middlebury register. (Middlebury, Vt.) 1886-1937, 1902-05-23

hung on the tortured bosom oil her lord,
And wept and pray'd perdton from his sword
Nor sought in vain at that heart piercing cry
The strings of Nature Crackd with agony
He with delirious laugh, the dagger hurd,
And burst the ties that bound him to the world
Turn from his dying words, that smite with steel
The shudderng thoughts, wind them on the Wheel
Turn to the genter melodies that suit
Thaias harp, or Pans Arcadian lutte
Or, down the stream of Truths historic page,
From cline to cline descend, from age to age
Yet there, perhaps, may darker scenes obtrude
Than Fancy fashions in her widest mood;
There shall he pause with horrent brow, to rate
What millions died-that Caesar might be great
Or learn the fate that bleeding thousands bore,
March'd by their Charles to Dnepers swampy shore
Faint in his wounds, and shivering in the blast
The Swedish soldier sunk-and groan'd his last
File after file the stormy showers benumb
Freeze every standard sheet, and hush the drum
Horseman and horse confessed the bitter pang
And arms and warriors fell with hollow clang
Yet ere he sunk in Natures last repose,
Ere life's warm torrent to the fountain froze,
The dying to Sweden turnd his eye,
Thought of his home, and closed it with sigh
Imperial Pride ook'd sullen on his plight,
And Charles beheld-nor shudderd at the sight
Above, below, in Ocean, Earth and Sky,
The fairy worlds Imagination, lie,
And HOPE attends companion of the way,
Thy dream by night, thy visions of the day
In yonder pensile orb, and every sphere
That gems the starry girdle of the year;
In those unmeasured worlds, she bids thee tell,
Pure from their God, created millions dwell,
Whose names and natures unreveaPd below,
We yet shall learn, and wonder we know;
For, as Ionas saint giant FORM
Throned on her towers, Conversing with the storm,
(When DER each RuniC altar, weed entwined,
The vesper clock tolls mournful to the wind,)
Counts every wave-wom isle, and mountain hoar,
From Kilda to the green Iernes shore;
So, when thy pure and renovated mind
This perishable dust hath left behind
Thy seraph eye shall count the starry train,
Like distant isles embosomd in the main
Rapt to the shrine where motion first began,
And light and life in mingling torrent ran
From whence each bright rotundity was hurpd,
The throne of God, the centre of the world
Oh vainly wise, the moral muse hath sung
That suasve HOPE hath but Syren tongue
True she may sport with LIES untutor'd day,
Nor heed the solace of its last decay,
The guileess heart her happy mansion spurn,
And part, like Ajut-never to return
But yet, methinks when Wisdom shall assuage
The grief and passions of our greener age,
Though dull the close of life, and far away
Each flower that haiId the dawnng of the day;
Yet DER her lovely hopes, that once were dear,
The time taught spirit, pensive, not severe,
With milder griefs her aged eye shall fill,
And weep their alsehood though she loves them still
Thus, with forgving tears, and reconciled,
Tha Iipo of T,Job -, ol>o1
Musng on days, when yet the gutess boy
Smiled on his sire, and flrd his heart with Joy
My Absalom the voice OF Nature CRIED
Oh that for thee thy father could have died
For bloody the deed, and rashy done,
That slew my Absaom my my son
Unfading HOPE when life's last embers burn,
When soul to soul, and dust to dust return
Heaven to thy charge resigns the awful hour
Oh then, thy kingdom comes, Immortal Power
What though each spark of earth born rapture fly
The quivering lip, pale cheek, and closing eye
Bright to the soul thy seraph hands convey
The morning dream of life's eternal day
Then, then, the triumph and the trance begin
And all the phoenix spirit burns within
Oh deep-enchanting prelude to repose,
The dawn of bliss, the twilight of our woes
Yet half hear the painting spirit sigh,
1t is dread and awful thing to die
Mysterious worlds, untraved by the sun
Where Times far wandering tide has never run,
From your unfathomd shades, and viewless spheres,
warning comes unheard by other ears
lis Heavens commanding trumpet, long and loud
Like Snais thunder, pealing from the cloud
While Nature hears, with terror-mngled trust,
The shock that hurls her fabric to the DUST
And, like the trembling Hebrew, when he trod