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Whose succour I implore,-O! hear my prayer,
And shield thy suppliant with almighty care.

Mourn, Adam's sons, the fatal sentence mourn!
Sprung from the dust, to dust ye shall return;"
Your days are few, your race is swiftly run,
The shades of night soon shroud your setting sun.
Naked ye left your mother's fruitful womb,
And Death shall hide you naked in the tomb.
Wise men and fools, the coward and the brave,
The prince, the peasant, hero, captive slave,
Moulder together in one common grave.
The servant hears no more his master's call,
The prisoner freed escapes the dungeon wall;
The wicked cease from troubling, peaceful rest
With dovelike calm broods o'er the weary breast.
The lofty palace, and the frowning gate,
The pride of office, and the pomp of state,
With all the peagantry of human show,
Are by the conquering hand of Death laid low.

Our days are quickly gone, in haste they flee
Swift as a vessel ploughs the yielding sea;
Swift as the whizzing arrow cuts its way,
Swift as the eagle pounces on its prey.

As the rude ploughshare crops the blooming flower,
So falls our house of clay, to rise on earth no more!
The fairest face, the eye divinely bright,
Are food for worms hid in sepulchral night.
Wealth, honour, glory, beauty soon decay,
And nought abides when man is call'd away.
Of all the caskets which thy house contains,
Save one poor coffin nothing now remains;
Though of rich dresses thou wast lately proud,
They all are dwindled to one woollen shroud.

Where are our sires? gone to their silent home.
And where the prophets? hid within the tomb.
Our saviour Christ himself resign'd his breath,
And paid man's forfeit by a painful death:
Rose the third day triumphant o'er the grave,
And way'd the banner'd cross omnipotent to save:
Ascended glorious to his native skies,

To teach his followers from this earth to rise, .

And gain a heavenly crown, their faith's immortal prize.

At

At the great dawning of the judgment day,
When heaven and earth, and seas shall melt away;
The King of Glory shall let loose his ire,
And the world perish in a flood of fire.
All nature stands aghast, the mountains nod,
Each trembling heart prepares to meet its God.
The pomp and majesty of kingly power
Are all extinguish'd in that fatal hour;

The rich men weep, the great their fall deplore,
And proudest conquerors now are proud no more.
Rumours of wars throughout the world shall rise,
The sea shall roar, and stars forsake the skies.
The Son of Man riding on clouds shall come,
And send a summons for the general doom,
The great Archangel shall his trumpet sound,
Louder and louder shall its voice rebound,
"Till heaven and earth shall echo all around:
The dead shall hear, on that tremendous day,
This awful call, "To judgment come away!"
Men of all ages and of every clime,

Since the sun measur'd first the course of time,
All in one moment from their graves arise,
And fix upon the Judge their fearful eyes.

Christ sits upon his throne, majestic sight!
And calls the volume of our doom to light;
Rang'd on each side a different troop is seen,
A void impassable extends between:

On the right hand his saints elect are plac'd,
Cloth'd in white robes, their brows with chaplets grac❜d.
"Come, cries their Lord, ye blessed children come,

"And live for ever in your blissful home :

"Ye cloth'd the naked, and the hungry fed,

"Home to your board the weary pilgrim led;

"Lur'd by soft Charity's benignant call,

"Ye pour'd the healing balm within the dungeon wall:
"Well have ye fought of faith a glorious fight,
"Rul'd by my spirit, cover'd by my night:
"Your great Redeemer's sure protection prove,
"And reap your high reward your Saviour's love."

The left hand rank a different picture show,
Despair and terror, wretchedness and woe;
Sad signs of anguish in each face appear,
While dismal yells and howlings rend the air.
Hell groans beneath, above a thundering cloud
Of livid vengeance murmurs hoarse and loud,

Flashing

Flashing confusion from his angry look,
Their Sovereign Judge in dreadful accents spoke:

"Depart, ye cursed, into hell's domains, "For endless ages groan in galling chains,

"While flaming brimstone gnaws your never-dying pains. "Still as they waste your burning limbs shall grow,

"And feel no intermission of their woe:

"The partners of your guilt your anguish share,
"And howl upbraidings in your frighted ear.

"Strange sights are seen, and hideous shrieks resound,
"And hell's black fiends deal torture all around.
"Hence to your dungeons, wretches! hence depart, -
"Wail, guash your teeth, and bare your mangled heart;
"Feel now that pain your cruelty devis'd,

"And dread that vengeful God your furious pride despis'd."

prey,

Sentence pronounc'd, the demons seize their
And drive the yelling ghastly crowd away;
Involv'd in sulphurous smoke they foam along,
Sharp whips of scorpions urge the flying throng;
Hell opes her gaping jaws with ten-fold ire,
And pours a fetid flood of dark red fire:
Back they recoil! but driven by vengeful might,
Leap the wide-yawning gulf, and sink to endless night!
There in deep dungeons feel outrageous woe,
Which spirits damn'd, and they alone, can know.

There impious atheists, atheists now no more,
The fury of Omnipotence deplore:
Their harden'd necks, and knees so stubborn bent,
And own'd God's justice in their punishment.
See midnight murderers, and the cunning thief,
The sturdy villain, and the cruel chief,
Who rui'd o'er empires with an iron rod,
While deathless beings trembled at his nod:
Here fornicators throng, a countless crowd,

Scalded with molten gold lank misers shriek aloud;
Lustful adulterers press a fiery bed,

And groaning drunkards hold the aching head;
Hard-hearted overseers bewail their fate,
Who starv'd the poor to save the parish rate;
The gamester, and the duellist so fell,
Here side by side in lowest darkness dwell,

Shake their strong chains, and utter dismal cries,
And load the tainted air with horrid blasphemies:

}

West

West Indian planters feel the pangs they gave,
And dread in every fiend a tortur'd slave:
From France rebellious crowds the furies bring,
For murder foul upon their harmless king;
France, that now groans beneath an alien son,
Who proves how nations soonest are undone :
Here ruthless heroes, who in blood delight,
Quaff cups of gore, and join the incessant fight;
Their gaping wounds dire agony display,
And hell's dark confines echo to the fray:
Here patriots false, who, lur'd by cursed gold,
Their country to the highest bidder sold;
With suicides in utter darkness dwell,
Companions of the vilest fiends in hell.

All these, and millions more, a countless crew,
Countless as drops in wide-expanded dew;
Or dancing moles in sun-beam's shifting ray,
Or tints of morning breaking into day;
Or waves in roaring ocean's hollow bed,
When furious tempests shake its hoary head;
Or grains of sand upon its shores that lie,
Or twinkling stars that grace the spangled sky;
Innumerous, deathless multitudes were hurl'd
To torture and despair in that infernal world.

But haste, my Muse, fly, fly this cursed coast,
And join the triumph of the ranson'd host ;-
Apostles, prophets, martyrs, splendid train!
Now reap in glory what was sown in pain;
Unmov'd, the cross and tort'ring stake they view'd,
The rack with mangled limbs and gore bedew'd;
The ponderous axe, the club, the pointed spear,
The tyger fierce and fell, the shaggy bear,
The pitchy vest in which they burning stand,
While drops of blood besmear the thirsty sand;
The boiling cauldron, and devouring fire,
These horrid sights no dread of death inspire
Within their stedfast souls. In anthems loud

They spend their dying breath, nor heed the shouting crowd;
Victorious o'er the grave, and death's fell sting,
With angel wings they fly to meet their Heavenly King.

The humble christian too, on earth unknown,
Takes his bright station near his Saviour's throne;
Breaks from the world away, and soars above
The grov'ling crowd, led by redeeming love.

The

The pure in heart, the contrite pious soul
Dwell in unsullied light beyond the starry pole:
To faith, hope, charity their lives were given,

And now they reign with Christ for evermore in heaven.

With wond'rous beauty cloth'd, in order bright,
With crowns of gold, and vests of dazzling white,
The saints of God appear, -raptur'd they rise,
And mount in splendour to their kindred skies,
With joy their Saviour and their God to see,
Aud live in light and love to all eternity:
No more shall death or pain, or grief annoy,
But each revolving hour awake increasing joy ;-
Seated on royal seats the feast they join,
A banquet spread by grace and love divine;
With seraphs and with seraphim unite,
Around the throne of God's eternal light.

To silver harps symphonious hymns they sing,
Warbling the praises of the Almighty King,
Who gave his only Son for man to die,
And open by his death the portals of the sky:
To lead his followers to their blest abode,
The mercy-seat of heaven, the bosom of their God.

All praise to Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,
From mau redeem'd, and from the heavenly host.

LACHIN Y GAIR.

From Lord Byron's Hours of Idleness.

LACHIN Y GAIR, or as it is pronounced in the Erse, LOCH NA GARR, towers proudly pre-eminent in the northern Highlands, near Invercauld. One of our modern tourists mentions it as the highest mountain perhaps in Great Britain: be this as it may, it is certainly one of the most sublime and picturesque amongst our "Caledonian Alps." Its appearance is of a dusky hue, but the summit is the seat of eternal snows: near Lachin y Gair I spent some of the early part of my life, the recollection of which has given birth to the following stanzas:

I.

AWAY, ye gay landscapes! ye gardens of roses!
In you led the minions of luxury rove;

Restore me the rocks, where the snow-fiake reposes,
Though still they are sacred to freedom and love;

Yet,

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