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Son of the morning, rise! approach you here!
Vainly his incense soars, his victim bleeds; [reeds. I Poor child of Doubt and Death, whose hope is built on
Bound to the earth, he lifts his eye to heaven -
[In the original MS. we find the following note to this and the five succeeding stanzas, which had been prepared for publication, but was afterwards withdrawn, “from a fear,” says the poet, “that it might be considered rather as an attack, than a defence of religion; "-" In this age of bigotry, when the puritan and priest have changed places, and the wretched Catholic is visited with the sins of his fathers,' even unto generations far beyond the pale of the commandment, the cast of opinion in these stanzas will, doubtless, meet with many a contemptuous anathema. But let it be remembered, that the spirit they breathe is desponding, not sneering, scepticism ; that he who has seen the Greek and Moslem superstitions contending for mastery over the former shrines of Polytheism – who has left in his own Pharisees, thanking. God that they are not like publicans and sinners,' and Spaniards in theirs, abhorring the heretics, who have holpen them in their need, — will be not a little bewildered, and begin to think, that as only one of them can be right, they
of them, be wrong. With regard to morals, and the effect of religion on mankind, it appears, from all historical testimony, to have had less effect in making them love their neighbours, than inducing that cordial Christian abhorrence between sectaries and schismatics. The Turks and Quakers are the most tolerant: if an Infidel pays his heratch to the former, he may pray how, when, and where he pleases ; and the mild tenets and devout demeanour of the latter, make their lives the truest commentary on the Sermon on the Mount.”]
Thou know'st not, reck'st not to what region, so
Regard and weigh yon dust before it flies :
Or burst the banish'd Hero's lofty mound;
Is that a temple where a God may dwell ?
Look on its broken arch, its ruin'd wall,
Can all saint, sage, or sophist ever writ,
i [“ Still wilt thou harp.” - MS.]
2 It was not always the custom of the Greeks to burn their dead ; the greater Ajax, in particular, was interred entire. Almost all the chiefs became gods after their decease; and he was indeed neglected, who had not annual games near his tomb, or festivals in honour of his memory by his countrymen, as Achilles, Brasidas, &c., and at last even Antinous, whose death was as heroic as his life was infamous.
Well didst thou speak, Athena's wisest son !
There no forced banquet claims the sated guest,
Yet if, as holicst men have deem'd, there be
Behold each mighty shade reveal’d to sight,
IX. There, thou ! - whose love and life together Aled, Have left me here to love and live in vain Twined with my heart, and can I deem thee dead When busy Memory flashes on my brain ? ? [In the original MS., for this magnificent stanza, we find what follows:
“ Frown not upon me, churlish Priest ! that I