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THE CROSS IN THE WILDERNESS.

BY MRS. HEMANS.

SILENT and mournful sat an Indian chief,
In the red sunset, by a grassy tomb;

His eyes, that might not weep, were dark with grief,
And his arms folded in majestic gloom;
And his bow lay unstrung beneath the mound
Which sanctified the gorgeous waste around.
For a pale cross above its greensward rose,
Telling the cedars and the pines that there
Man's heart and hope had struggled with his woes,
And lifted from the dust a voice of prayer.
Now all was hushed and eve's last splendour shone
With a rich sadness on the attesting stone.

There came a lonely traveller o'er the wild,

And he, too, paused in reverence by that grave, Asking the tale of its memorial, piled

Between the forest and the lake's bright wave; Till, as a wind might stir a withered oak, On the deep dream of age his accents broke. And the grey chieftain, slowly rising, said,— "I listened for the words, which years ago Passed o'er these waters. Though the voice is fled Which made them as a singing fountain's flow, Yet, when I sit in their long-faded track, Sometimes the forest's murmur gives them back. "Ask'st thou of him whose house is lone beneath? I was an eagle in my youthful pride,

When o'er the seas he came, with summer's breath, To dwell amidst us, on the lake's green side. Many the times of flowers have been since thenMany, but bringing naught like him again!

"Not with the hunter's bow and spear he came,
O'er the blue hills to chase the flying roe;
Not the dark glory of the woods to tame,
Laying their cedars, like the corn-stalks, low;
But to spread tidings of all holy things,
Gladdening our souls as with the morning's wings.
"Doth not yon cypress whisper how we met,

I and my brethren that from earth are gone,
Under its boughs to hear his voice, which yet
Seems through their gloom to send a silvery tone?
He told of One, the grave's dark bonds who broke,
And our hearts burned within us as he spoke.
"He told of far and sunny lands, which lie

Beyond the dust wherein our fathers dwell: Bright must they be ! for there are none that die, And none that weep, and none that say 'Farewell!' He came to guide us thither; but away The Happy called him, and he might not stay. "We saw him slowly fade-athirst, perchance, For the fresh waters of that lovely clime: Yet was there still a sunbeam in his glance,

And on his gleaming hair no touch of time-
Therefore we hoped-but now the lake looks dim,
For the green summer comes-and finds not him!
"We gathered round him in the dewy hour

Of one still morn, beneath his chosen tree;
From his clear voice at first the words of power
Came low, like moanings of a distant sea;
But swelled, and shook the wilderness ere long,
As if the spirit of the breeze grew strong.

"And then once more they trembled on his tongue,
And his white eyelids fluttered, and his head
Fell back, and mist upon his forehead hung-
Know'st thou not how we pass to join the dead?

It is enough! he sank upon my breast-
Our friend that loved us,-he was gone to rest!

"We buried him where he was wont to pray, By the calm lake, e'en here, at eventide ; We reared this cross in token where he lay,

For on the cross, he said, his Lord had died! Now hath he surely reached, o'er mount and wave, That flowery land whose green turf hides no grave. “But I am sad !—I mourn the clear light taken Back from my people, o'er whose place it shone, The pathway to the better shore forsaken,

And the true words forgotten, save by one, Who hears them faintly sounding from the past, Mingled with death-songs in each fitful blast." Then spoke the wanderer forth with kindling eye; "Son of the wilderness! despair thou not, Though the bright hour may seem to thee gone by, And the cloud settled o'er thy nation's lot, Heaven darkly works-yet, where the seed hath been, There shall the fruitage, glowing yet, be seen. "Hope on, hope ever!-by the sudden springing Of green leaves which the winter hid so long; And by the bursts of free, triumphant singing, After cold silent months the woods among ; And by the rending of the frozen chains, Which bound the glorious rivers on their plains. "Deem not the words of light that here were spoken, But as a lovely song, to leave no trace ;

Yet shall the gloom which wraps thy hills be broken,
And the full dayspring rise upon thy race!

And fading mists the better path disclose,
And the wide desert blossom as the rose."

So by the Cross they parted, in the wild,
Each fraught with musings for life's after-day;
Memories to visit one, the forest's child,

By many a blue stream in its lonely way,
And upon one, midst busy throngs to press
Deep thoughts and sad, yet full of holiness.

SATAN'S ADDRESS TO THE SUN.

BY MILTON.

O THOU that with surpassing glory crowned,
Look'st from thy sole dominion like the God
Of this new world, at whose sight all the stars
Hide their diminished heads; to thee I call,
But with no friendly voice, and add thy name,
O Sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams,
That bring to my remembrance from what state
I fell, how glorious once above thy sphere:
Till pride and worse ambition threw me down,
Warring in heaven against heaven's matchless King:
Ah, wherefore! He deserved no such return
From me, whom He created what I was
In that bright eminence, and with His good
Upbraided none; nor was His service hard.
What could be less than to afford Him praise,
The easiest recompense, and pay Him thanks,
How due! yet all His good proved ill in me,
And wrought but malice; lifted up so high,
I 'sdained subjection, and thought one step higher
Would set me highest, and in a moment quit
The debt immense of endless gratitude,
So burdensome still paying, still to owe,
Forgetful what from Him I still received;
And understood not that a grateful mind
By owing owes not, but still pays, at once
Indebted and discharged: what burden then?
O had His powerful destiny ordained
Me some inferior angel, I had stood

Then happy; no unbounded hope had raised
Ambition. Yet why not? some other Power
As great might have aspired, and me though mean

Drawn to his part; but other Powers as great
Fell not, but stand unshaken, from within
Or from without, to all temptations armed.
Hadst thou the same free-will and power to stand!
Thou hadst : whom hast thou then or what to accuse
But Heaven's free love dealt equally to all?
Be then His love accursed, since love or hate,
To me alike, it deals eternal woe !

Nay cursed be thou; since against His thy will
Chose freely what it now so justly rues.
Me miserable! which way shall I fly
Infinite wrath, and infinite despair?
Which way I fly is hell; myself am hell ;
And in the lowest deep a lower deep,
Still threatening to devour me opens wide,
To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven.
O then at last relent: is there no place
Left for repentance, none for pardon left?
None left but by submission; and that word
Disdain forbids me, and my dread of shame
Among the spirits beneath, whom I seduced
With other promises and other vaunts
Than to submit, boasting I could subdue
The Omnipotent! Ah me, they little know
How dearly I abide that boast so vain,
Under what torments inwardly I groan,
While they adore me on the throne of hell.
With diadem and sceptre high advanced,
The lower still I fall, only supreme
In misery, such joy ambition finds.
But say I could repent, and could obtain

By act of grace, my former state : how soon

Would height recall high thoughts, how soon unsay

What feigned submission swore? Ease would recant

Vows made in pain as violent and void,

For never can true reconcilement grow

Where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep;

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