Brack. Awak'd you not with this sore ag'ony? | Clar. O no, my dream was lengthen'd after life,; | O then began the tempest to my soul: [

I pass'd, methought, the melancholy flood
With that grim ferryman which poets write of, |
Unto the kingdom of perpetual night. |

The first that there did greet my stranger soul, |
Was my great fa'ther-in-law, | renowned Warwick, |
Who cried aloud, "What scourge for perjury |
Can this dark monarchy | afford false Clarence?" |
And so he vanish'd. Then came wand'ring by
A shadow like an, an'gel, with bright hair

Dabbled in blood; and he shriek'd out aloud,
"Clarence is come, false, fleet'ing, perjur'd Clarence
That stabb'd me in the field by Tewksbury; -|
Seize on him, fu`ries, | take him to your torments !" |
With that, methought a legion of foul fiends
Environ'd me, and howled in mine, ears
Such hideous cries, that, with the very noise',
I trembling wak'd, | and, for a season after,
Could not believe but that I was in hell,
Such terrible impression made my dream.

Brack. No marvel, lord, that it affrighted you- | I am afraid, methinks, to hear you tell it.

Clar. O Brackenbury, I have done these things |
That now give evidence against my soul,

For Edward's sake; and, see how he requites me!-{
I pray thee, gentle keeper, stay by me-
My soul is heavy, and I fain would sleep..!

Brack. I will, my lord. | [Clarence reposes himself on a chair.
Sorrow breaks seasons, and repo'sing hours, |
Makes the night morning, and the noon-tide night., |
Princes have but their titles for their glories-
An outward honour for an inward toil; |
And, for unfelt imaginations, |

They often feel a world of restless_cares : |

So that, between their titles, and low name, |
There's nothing differs | but the outward fame. I

TO THE URSA MAJOR.

(H. WARE, JUN.)

With what a stately, and majestic step |
That glorious constellation of the north |
Treads its eternal circle! | going forth
Its princely way amongst the stars in slow,
And silent brightness. Mighty one, all-hail'! |
I joy to see thee, on thy glowing path, |
Walk like some stout, and girded giant
Unwearied, resolute, whose toiling foot
Disdains to loiter on its destined way. Į
The other tribes forsake their midnight track, |
And rest their weary orbs beneath the wave'; |
But thou dost never close thy burning eye, |

| stern,

Nor stay thy steadfast step. But on, still on, |
While systems change, and suns retire, and worlds
Slumber, and wake, thy ceaseless march proceeds. |
The near horizon tempts to rest in vain. |
Thou, faithful sentinel, dost never quit

Thy long-appointed watch; but, sleepless still, |
Dost guard the fix'd light of the universe, I
And bid the north for ever know its place. |

Ages have witness'd thy devoted trust, |
Unchang'd, unchanging. When the sons of God |
Sent forth that shout of joy, which rang thro' heaven, |
And echoed from the outer spheres that bound
The illimitable universe, thy voice

Join'd the high chorus; | from thy radiant orbs |
The glad cry sounded, swelling to his praise,
Who thus had cast another sparkling gem, |
Little, but beautiful, amid the crowd
Of splendours that enrich his firmament. |
As thou art now so wast thou then the same. |

Ages have roll'd their course; and time grown grey; |
The seas have chang'd their beds; | the eternal hills

Have stoop'd with age; the solid continents
Have left their banks; and man's imperial works |
The toil, pride, strength of kingdoms, which had flung
Their haughty honours in the face of heaven, |
As if immortal | have been swept away -
Shatter'd, and mould'ring, | buried, and forgot. 1
But time has shed no dimness on thy front, |
Nor touch'd the firmness of thy tread: | youth, strength,
And beauty still are thine as clear, as bright, |
As when the Almighty Former sent thee forth, |
Beautiful offspring of his curious skill, |

To watch earth's northern beacon, and proclaim
The eternal chorus of Eternal Love. |

I wonder as I gaze. That stream of light, |
Undimm'd, unquench'd',- just as I see thee now,- |
Has issued from those dazzling points, | thro' years
That go back far into eternity.

Exhaust'lessa flood! for ever spent, renew'd
For ever! Yea, and those refulgent drops, |
Which now descend upon my lifted eye, |

Left their far fountain twice three years ago. |
While those wing'd particles, whose speed outstrips
I
The flight of thought, were on their way, the earth
Compass'd its tedious circuit round, and round, |
And in the extremes of annual change, beheld
Six autumns fade, six springs renew their bloom, :|
So far from earth those mighty orbs revolve! |
So vast the void through which their beams descend! |

Yea, glorious lamps of God, he may have quench'd'
Your ancient flames, and bid eternal night
Rest on your spheres,; and yet no tidings reach
This distant planet. | Messengers still come, |
Laden with your far fire, and we may seem
To see your lights still burning; while their blaze!
But hides the black wreck of extinguish'd realms', |
Where anarchy, and darkness long have reign'd. |

a

b Egz-hast'lès; not ègz-zàst'lès. Re-fal'džent; not re-fal'džånt.

Yet what is this which to the astonish'd mind
Seems measureless, and which the baffled thought
Confounds? A span, | a point', in those domains
Which the keen eye can traverse. | Seven stars
Dwell in that brilliant cluster; and the sight
Embraces all at once; yet each from each |
Recedes as far as each of them from earth
And ev'ry star from ev'ry other burns
No less remote. I

From the profound of heaven, |
Untravell'd e'en in thought, keen, piercing rays
Dart through the void, | revealing to the sense |
Systems, and worlds unnumber'd. | Take the glass,
And search the skies. The opening skies pour down
Upon your gaze, | thick showers of sparkling fire.-|
Stars, crowded, | throng'd', in regions so remote, |
That their swift beams-the swiftest things that be
Have travell❜d centuries on their flight to earth. |
Earth, sun, and nearer constellations, | what
Are ye', amid this infinite extent, |

And multitude of God's most infinite works!|

And these are suns.! vast, central, living fires',-|
Lords of dependent systems,- kings of worlds' |
That wait as satellites upon their power,

And flourish in their smile. | Awake my soul, |
And meditate the wonder! | Countless suns

Blaze round thee, leading forth their countless worlds! |
Worlds in whose bosoms living things rejoice,

And drink the bliss of being from the fount

Of all-pervading Love.-|

What mind can know, |

What tongue can ut、ter, all their multitudes ! |
Thus numberless in numberless abodes! |

Known but to thee, bless'd Father! Thine they are, |
Thy children, and thy care; and none o'erlook'd
Of thee! no, not the humblest soul that dwells
Upon the humblest globe | which wheels its course

Amid the giant glories of the sky, |

Like the mean mote that dances in the beam
Amongst the mirror'd lamps which fling
Their wasteful splendour from the palace wall.
None, none escape the kindness of thy care; |
All compass'd underneath thy spacious wing',
Each fed, and guided by thy powerful hand. |

Tell me, ye splendid orbs, as from your throne, | Ye mark the rolling provinces that own

Your sway,
How form'd

their state

what beings fill those bright abodes? | how gift'ed

what their

powers

Their happiness

their wis.dom? | Do they bear
The stamp of human na'ture? | Or has God
Peopled those purer realms | with lovelier forms, |
And more celestial minds,? | Does Innocence
Still wear her native, and untainted bloom' ?
Or has Sin breath'd his deadly blight abroad, |
And sow'd corruption in those fairy bowers? |

Has War trod o'er them with his foot of fire'; |
And Slavery forg'd his chains'; and Wrath, and Hate, |
And sordid Selfishness, and cruel Lust, |

Leagued their base bands | to tread out light, and truth, ¦
And scatter'd wo where Heaven had planted joy'? |
Or are they yet all Paradise, unfallen,
And uncorrupt? | existence one long joy, |
Without disease upon the frame, or sin
Upon the heart, or weariness of life. -
Hope never quench'd, and age unknown', |

And death unfear'd; while fresh, and fadeless youth |
Glows in the light from God's near throne of love?

Open your lips', ye wonderful, and fair! |

Speak, speak! the mysteries of those living worlds Unfold! No lan'guage? | Everlasting light,

a Splendid orbs; not splendid dorbs. Eg-list'èns; not êg-list

úns.