Mercy stood near, and, with a smiling brow, Calm'd the loud thunder: "There's no need of you; "Grace shall descend, and the weak man subdue." Grace leaves the skies, and he the stage forsakes, He bows his head down to the martyring axe, And as he bows, this gentle farewell speaks: "So goes the comedy of life away; "Vain earth, adieu; Heaven will applaud to-day; "Strike, courteous tyrant! and conclude the play." A LATIN EPIGRAM. When the Protestant church, at Montpelier, was demolished, by the French king's order, the Protestants laid the stones up in their burying place, wherein a Jesuit made a Latin Epigram. ENGLISHED THUS : A HUG'NOT church, once at Montpelier built, Stood and proclaim'd their madness and their guilt; Too long it stood beneath Heaven's angry frown, Worthy, when rising, to be thunder'd down. Lewis, at last, the avenger of the skies, Commands, and level with the ground it lies: The stones dispers'd, their wretched offspring come, Gather, and heap them on their fathers' tomb. Thus the curs'd house falls on the builder's head; And tho' beneath the ground their bones are laid, Yet the just vengeance still pursues the guilty dead. THE ANSWER, BY A FRENCH PROTESTANT. ENGLISHED THUS: A CHRISTIAN church once at Montpelier stood, TWO HAPPY RIVALS. DEVOTION AND THE MUSE. WILD as the lightning, various as the moon, Here she glows like burning noon In fiercest flames, and here she plays Gentle as star-beams on the midnight seas: Now in a smiling angel's form, Anon she rides upon the storm, Loud as the noisy thunder, as a deluge strong. Are my thoughts and wishes free, And know no number nor degree? Such is the muse: Lo! she disdains The links and chains, Measures and rules of vulgar strains, And o'er the laws of harmony, a sovʼreign queen, she reigns. If she roves By streams or groves, Tuning her pleasures or her pains, While thunders roar From shore to shore, My soul sits fast upon her wings, And sweeps the crimson surge, or scours the purple plain; Still I attend her as she flies, Round the broad globe, and all beneath the skies. But when from the meridian star Long streaks of glory shine, The music ascends her heavenly car, [divine. And climbs the steepy path, and means the throne Clogg'd with clay, and unrefin'd, Oh! why is piety so weak, And yet the muse so strong? A spark of heavenly day; And mortal passion charms my soul astray, And call me high To mingle with the choirs of glory and of bliss. Devotion there begins the flight, Awakes the song, and guides the way; There love and zeal, divine and bright, Trace out new regions in the world of light, And scarce the boldest muse can follow or obey. I'm in a dream, and fancy reigns, Behold religion on her throne, In awful state descending down, And her dominions, vast and bright, within my spacious view. She smiles, and with a courteous hand She beckons me away; I feel mine airy powers loose from the cumbrous clay, And with a joyful haste obey Religion's high command. What lengths and heights and depths unknown! Broad fields with blooming glory sown, And seas, and skies, and stars her own, What heavens of joy, and light serene, A long farewell to all below, Farewell to all that sense can show, |