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THE MARTYR STUDENT. . 



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BY MISS DIXON. 



Mind wrestles with Mortality ! — Ye view 

 Death's fatal shaft its struggling powers subdue ; 

 Where Learning's pupil wins the appointed prize. 

 Touches the goal — but for the conquest dies ! 

 That youthful breast devot»j to noblest aim, 

 Hath felt its spirit too intensely flame, 

 Wasting the fragile threads of sentient clay, 

 *Till life was spent and being breathed away. 



In vain for him the Wreath — though won, its clasp 



Shall bind his temples with an iron grasp, 



And the bright leaves of Delphi's plant o'erpower 



The high expectance of that envied hour — 



Till its great effort weigh the occasion down, 



And the sad sequel mock th€f late renown. 



Think ye, what days of studious toil were passed, 

 To wear that garland, sought and found too fast I 

 Think ye what nights the zeal of Genius gave, 

 To snatch the fame that consecrates its grave ! 

 In vain allurement flung her lilies o'er 

 The path of bliss, and bade him toil no more; 

 In vain with every joyous passion rife. 

 Breathed the fresh spring of yet untasted life; 

 In solitary haunt he loved alone 

 To make the knowledge of the Dead his own, 

 And from the pages of the past to glean 

 Their learning, precepts, — all that they had been — 

 Yet thus unmindful of each lowlier claim, 

 Health, pleasure, life, the sacrifice became. 

 Pale grew his cheek, save when the hectic flush 

 Tinged its worn surface with a treacherous blush; 

 And o'er that brow where passion seemed to slight 

 Her wonted hues, and play the anchorite, 

 Y'^e might in each convulsive throb discern 

 The rushing soul which held a course so stern, 

 And stayed not — though life's pulses seemed to bear 

 Its madding force in agonized despair — 

 Conscious whereto they tended, and from whence 

 The numbing pause of each o'er-laboured sense, 



