[ 30] 
[Aug. 1, 
; ORIGINAL POETRY. 
OXFORD PRIZE POEM; 
BY T. 8S, SALMON. 
Stonehenge. 
WwrRrrr in the veil of Time’s unbroken 
gloom, 
Obscure as death, and silent as the tomb, 
Where cold Oblivion holds her dusky reign, 
Frowns the dark pile on Sarum’s lonely 
lain, 
Yet think not here with classic eye to 
trace 
Corinthian beauty, or Ionian grace; 
No pillar’d lines with sculptur’d foliage 
crown’d, 
No fluted remnants deck the hallow’d 
ground ; 
Firm, as implanted by some Titan’s might, 
Each rugged stone uprears its giant height, 
Whence the pois’d fragment, tottering, 
seems to throw 
A trembling shadow on the plain below. 
Here oft, when Evening sheds her twi- 
light ray, 
And gilds with fainter beam departing day, 
With breathless gaze, and cheek with ter- 
ror pale, 
The lingering shepherd startles at the tale, 
How at deep midnight, by the Moon’s 
chill glance, 
Unearthy forms prolong the viewless dance; 
While on each whispering breeze that 
murmurs by, 
His busied fancy hears the hollow sigh. 
Rise from thy haunt, dread genius of the 
clime! : 
Rise, magic spirit of forgotten time! 
’Tis thine to burst the mantling clouds of age, 
And fling new radiance onTradition’s page; 
See! at thy call, from Fable’s varied store, 
In shadowy train the mingled visions pour : 
Here the wild Briton, ’mid his wilder reign, 
Spurns the proud yoke, and scorns th’ 
oppressor’s chain ; 
Here wizard Merlin,where the mighty fell,* 
Waves the dark wand, and chaunts the 
thrilling speil. 
Hark! ’tis the bardic lyre, whose harrow- 
ing strain 
Wakes the rude echoes of the slumbering 
plain; 
Lo! °tis the Druid pomp, whose Jengthen- 
ing line 
Tn lowliest homage bend before the shrine. 
He comes—the priest--amid thesullen blaze 
_ Hissnow-white robe in spectral lustre plays; 
Dim gleam the torches thro’ the circling 
night, 
Dark cur! the vapours round the altar’s light ; 
O’er the black scene of death each con- 
scious star, 
In lurid glory, rolls its silent car. 
* On this spot it is said that the 
nobles were slaughtered by Hengist+ 
ritis 
’Tis gone! e’en now the mystic horrors 
fade 
From Sarum’s loneliness and Mona’s glade 5 
Hush’d is each note of Taliesin’s lyre, 
Sheath’d the fell blade, and quench’d the 
fatal fire. 
On wings of light Hope’s angel form appears 
Smiles on the past, and points to happier 
years ; 
Points,with uplifted hand and raptur'd eye, 
To yon pee dawn that floods the opening 
sky? 
And sees at length, the Sun of Judah pour 
One cloudless noon o’er Albion’s rescued 
shore. 
—r 
SONNET; 
BY J, M. LACEY. 
?T1s Sorrow’s voice! ’tisaugel-woman’s cry! 
Lo! at the tomb of all her hopes she 
weeps! 
There her fond husband and her infants lie, 
And there her nightly vigils oft she keeps. 
Approach her not,—too sacred is her grief 
For interruption ;: all the rustics know 
Her tale of sadness, and would bring relief 
Could they but find a balm for such a 
woe, 
Her love was great,—it looks beyond the 
grave— 
In fancy now she communes with the 
dead ; 
Tho’ Heaven has taken back what first it 
gave, 
She bows in humbleness her beauteous 
head. 
Soon may that Heav’n restore her breast to 
peace, 
Or take her to itself, and bid such sor- 
TOw’s cease. 
—a 
LA FETE DIEU, 
[The following lines were written at Paris, imme- 
diately after witnessing the procession of La Féte 
Dieu, inwhich prince, priest, and soldier,—with 
the assistance of gold lace, feathers, tallow can- 
dles, and black velvet,—did all in their power to 
fill the canaille with awe; whilst the houses of 
that enlightened metropolis exhibited a motley 
display of carpets, rugs, sheets, and blankets, to 
the great gratification of the ruling powers, and 
the astonishment of the enquiring stranger.) 
WITH one accord, let all believer’s praise 
The great Creator, and our offerings raise ; 
Hang out our carpets, decorate our streets 
With virgin blankets and unspotted sheets; 
Come, let us bow with meekness to the rod 
Of priests—to gain the blessings of our 
0 
Who looks with mercy from on high, 
Well pleas’d he sees our carpets from the 
sky. 
Enlightend Christians! when we now 
reflect 
Upon the darkness of each Pagan sect, 
Well 
