Held secret virtue. To their seats beneath
The sacred dome with hasten'd step they move,
While the loud organ peals its swelling chords
To welcome in the pious votaries.
It ceases: for the holy man his charge
Assumes; and from their seats all rise.
Within the sacramental rail enclos'd,
Greets his fair fold with gentle dignity;
Bland admonition wafting on the ear,
That it may dwell in the retentive thought.
He trusts this goodly throng of youthful saints,
Here met to testify a firm belief
In their Redeemer's love, will boldly dare
To struggle with temptation, and put on
The panoply of Him who did repel
The wiles of Satan, that so each may cast
Far off the works of darkness, and still live
As fitteth the "redeemed of the Lord."
So need they never fear His tender care
Will, from the powers of darkness, rescue them,
And be their safe-guard, if they own his sway,
Whose" yoke is easy, and his burden light."
A glow of high resolve, and ardent hope,
Beam'd o'er the face of every candidate
For confirmation; and like glow diffus'd
O'er those who came as guardian-witnesses.
Mean time, a vestur'd priest the rubric reads
Which prefaces this ghostly ordinance:
The Prelate then his awful question asks-
"Do ye, before the presence of your
God
"And of this congregation, here renew
"The solemn and baptismal promise made
"In all your names, when ye were infants all;
Confirming now the same with your own lips, "And binding each both to believe and do "Those things, which at a weak and tender age "You by respective sureties undertook?" A loud-" I do," gave sanction to the service. And now the young noviciates lowly bend:They pray; they kneel in silence round the altar; The bishop's blessing broods upon their heads, (As once o'er Jordan did the dove-like form) While he alone implores the Saviour-God, "To succour these his servants with his grace, "That they may live for ever, and receive "An increase of his spirit more and more, "Until they come to his eternal kingdom!"
No shrill" Amen" was wanted from the clerk's Sonorous voice; the hearts of all around Echo'd responses, and their orisons
In soft and secret whispers, or in tears
Of gushing fondness, spoke the soul's regard.
For all around were mothers, sponsors, friends,
And sires, and sisters; those who the young thus far
Had train'd upon their way to blessedness,
With those who came to see the rite performed,
Which they might soon be sanction'd to partake,
And the joint privilege of Christians claim,
To banquet at the table of their Lord!
There oft approaching, may they still recal
This day's solemnity, and hence become
The children of their God: so shall no blight
Of sin the promise of their vernal bloom
Destroy, but when from earth transplanted, bear
Rich fruit within the glorious paradise of heaven!
KING LEAR'S SPEECH TO EDGAR.
VERSIFIED AND PARAPHRASED BY MR. COBBE.
SEE where the solitary creature stands,
Just as he issued out of nature's hands;
No hopes he knows, no fears, no joys, no cares,
Nor pleasure's poison, nor ambition's snares;
But shares, from self-forg'd chains of life releas'd,
The forest kingdom with his fellow beast.
Yes, all we see of thee is nature's part,
Thou art the creature's self, the rest is art.
For thee the skilful worm of spacious hue
No shining threads of ductile radiance drew;
For thee no sun the ripening gem refin'd,
No bleating innocence the fleece resign'd;
The hand of luxury never taught to pour
O'er thy faint limbs the oil's refreshing show'r :
His bed the flinty rock; his drink, his food,
The running brook and berries of the wood.
What have we added to this plain account?
What passions? What desires? A huge amount !
Cloth'd, fed, warm'd, cool'd, each by his brother's toil,
We live upon the wide creation's spoil.
Quit, monarch, quit thy vain superfluous pride,
Lay all thy foreign ornaments aside,
Bid art no more its spurious gifts supply,
Be man, mere man, thirst, hunger, grieve and die.
AN ENGLISH SONG WITHOUT SIBILANTS.
BY J. THELWALL, ESQ.
SET TO MUSIC BY DR. KEMP.
The Author does not mean to insinuate, by this specimen, the necessity or propriety of a total exclusion of sibilants from all compositions designed for music: but the frequency of their recurrence has long and justly been a reproach, not to our language but to our writers. The following specimen at least may show that it is not necessary to interrupt the melody of English song by an eternally recurring hiss. The s in the word rose, sounded, as it is written below, like z, is the only even half sibilant that occurs in the whole twenty lines.
No-not the eye of tender blue,
Tho' Mary 'twere the tint of thine,
Or breathing lip, of glowing hue,
Might bid the opening roze repine,
Had long enthrall'd my mind;
Nor tint with tint, alternate aiding,
That o'er the dimpled tablet flow,
The vermil to the lily fading,-
Nor ringlet, bright with orient glow,
In many a tendril twin'd.
The breathing tint, the beamy ray,
The linear harmony divine,
That o'er the form of beauty play,
Might warm a colder heart than mine,
But not for ever bind.
But when to radiant form and feature,
Internal worth and feeling join,
With temper mild and gay good nature,-
Around the willing heart they twine
The empire of the mind.
THE PORTRAITS.
A FRAGMENT.
ADDRESSED TO
THE Fair one had a heart to feel,
An eye, whose glisten could reveal
That pensive heart's emotion:
Gently, with half unquiet swell,
Her bosom heav'd-then silent fell,
As sinks the slumb❜ring ocean.
Her features, lovely while they seem'd,
As ever Love's expression beam'd,
Yet look'd, and spoke, the lofty mind,
Whose high-ton'd feelings, pure as kind,
Were pictur'd in her face:
And while her form, of aspen moult,
Love's lightest, gentlest tremors told,
Still, to each motion of the Fair,
Soft delicacy's sweetest air
Gave dignity and grace.
* * * *
And he, the youth-the friend-who lay,
Musing the idle hours away,
Reclin'd beneath the antique tree*,
Contemplating the brook
Ah! restless too, and sad was he,
And pensive was his look.
Aspiring was his soul, yet meek;
Haughty, yet humble too;
His heart was flame, to passion weak,
But still sincere and true.
Alluding to a print of Shakspeare's "Melancholy Jaques," to which the person addressed had sportively compared the writer.
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