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HOW LIGHTLY MOUNTS THE MUSE'S WING.

TJOW lightly mounts the Muse's wing

Whose theme is in the skies —
Like morning larks, that sweeter sing
The nearer Heaven they rise!

Though Love his magic lyre may tune,
Yet ah! the flowers he round it wreathes

Were plucked beneath pale Passion's moon,
Whose madness in their odor breathes.

How purer far the sacred lute,

Round which Devotion ties
Sweet flowers that turn to heavenly fruit,

And palm that never dies.

Though War's high-sounding harp may be
Most welcome to the hero's ears,

Alas, his chords of victory

Are wet all o'er with human tears.

How far more sweet their numbers run

Who hymn, like saints above, No victor, but th' Eternal One,

No trophies but of Love!

GO FORTH TO THE MOUNT.

HO forth to the Mount — bring the olive-branch

home, * And rejoice, for the day of our Freedom is come! From that time, when the moon upon Ajalon's vale,t

Looking motionless down, saw the kings of the earth, J In the presence of God's mighty Champion grow pale,

0 never had Judah an hour of such mirth! Go forth to the Mount—bring the olive-branch home, And rejoice, for the day of our Freedom is come!

Bring myrtle and palm—bring the boughs of each tree That is worthy to wave o'er the tents of the Free !§ From that day, when the footsteps of Israel shone With a light hot their own, through' the Jordan's deep tide,

* And that they should publish and proclaim in all their cities, and in Jerusalem, saying. Go forth unto the mount, and fetch olivebranches, etc. etc. Nehemiah viii: 15.

t For since the days of Joshua the son of Nun, unto that day, had not the children of Israel done so: and there was very great gladness. Nehemiah viii: 17.

t Sun, stand thou still upon Gibeon ; and thou, Moon, in the valley of Ajalon. Joshua x: 12.

§ Fetch olive-branches, and pine-branches, and myrtle-branches, and palm-branches, and branches of thick trees, to make booths. Nehemiah viii: 15.

Whose waters shrunk back as the Ark glided on—t

0 never had Judah an hour of such pride! Go forth to the Mount—bring the olive-branch home, And rejoice, for the day of our Freedom is come!

IS IT NOT SWEET TO THINK.

TS it not sweet to think, hereafter,

When the Spirit leaves this sphere,
Love, with deathless wings, shall waft her
To those she long hath mourned for here *

Hearts, from which 't was death to sever,
Eyes, this world can ne'er restore,

There, as warm, as bright as ever,
Shall mejet us and be lost no more.

When wearily we wander, asking
Of earth and heaven, where are they,

Beneath whose smile we once lay basking —
Blest, and thinking bliss would stay!

Hope still lifts her radiant finger
Pointing to the eternal home,

t And the priests that bare the ark of the covenant of the Lord stood firm on dry ground in the midst of Jordan, and all the Israelites passed over on dry ground. Joshua iii: 17.

Upon whose portal yet they linger,
Looking hack for us to come.

Alas ! alas ! doth Hope deceive us?

Shall friendship, love, shall all those ties That hind a moment, and then leave us,

Be found again where nothing dies?

O, if no other boon were given,

To keep our hearts from wrong and stain, Who would not try to win a Heaven

Where all we love shall live again?

WAR AGAINST BABYLON.

"WAR against Babylon !" shout we around,*

Be our banners through earth unfurled; Rise up, ye nations, ye kings, at the sound — t

"War against Babylon!" shout through the world! O thou, that dwellest on many waters,!

Thy day of pride is ended now;
And the dark curse of Israel's daughters

Breaks, like a thunder-cloud, over thy brow!
War, war, war, against Babylon!

* Shout against her round about. Jeremiah i: 15.

t Set up a standard in the land, blow the trumpet among the nations, prepare the nations against her, call together against her the kingdoms, etc. etc. Jeremiah li: 27.

t O thou, that dwellest upon many waters, thy end \s come Jebemiah li: 13. S 2

Make bright the arrows, and gather the shields,^

Set the standard of God on high — Swarm we, like locusts, o'er all her fields,

'Zion' our watchword, and 'Vengeance' our cry! Woe ! woe !—the time of thy visitation*

Is come, proud Land, thy doom is cast —
And the black surge of desolation

Sweeps o'er thy guilty head, at last!
War, war, war, against Babylon!

§ Make bright the arrows; gather the shields .... set up the standard upon the walls of Babylon. Jeremiah li.

* Woe unto them! for their day is come, the time of their visitation. Jeremiah li.

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