438 Original Poetry. 
ON THE SUMMIT OF 
AN EGYPTIAN PYRAMID. 
Turon’p on the sepulchre of mighty kings, 
» Whose dust, insoiemn silence, sleeps below, 
Till that great day, when sublunary things 
Shall pass away, ev’n as the April how 
Fades from the gazer's eye, and leaves no trace 
Of its bright colours, or its former place, 
I gaze in sadness o’er the scenery wild,— 
On scatter’d groups of palms, and seas of 
sand— 
Qn the wide desert, and the desert’s child— 
Onruinsmadeby Time’s destructive hand— 
On temples, towers and columnslaid in dust— 
A land of crime, of tyranny and lust. 
O Egypt! Egypt! how art thou debas’d !— 
“A Moslem slave upon Busiris’ throne! 
And all thy splendid monuments defac’d ! 
Long, long beneath his iron rod shal] groan 
Thy hapless children: —thou hast had thy day, 
And all thy glories, now, have pass’d away. 
O! could thy princely dead rise from thieir 
graves, 
And view, with me, the changes Time has 
" wrought,— 
A land of ruins, and a race of slaves, 
Where wisdom flourish’d, and where sages 
taught :— — 
A scene of desolation—mental night !— 
How would they shrink with horror from the 
sight ! 
Ancient of days! nurse of fair science—arts - 
‘All that refines and elevates mankind ! 
Where are thy palaces, and where thy marts ; 
Thy glorious cities, and thy men of mind? 
For ever gone !—the very names they bore, 
The sites they occupied, are known no more, 
But why lament, since such must ever be 
The fate of human greatness, human pride? 
Ey’n those who mourn the loudest over thee, 
Are drifting, headlong, down the rapid tide 
That sweeps, resistless, to ambition’s grave, 
All that is great and good, or wise and brave. 
Ev’n thou, proud fabric! whence I now survey 
Scenes so afflicting to the feeling heart, 
Maugre thy giant strength, must sink, the prey 
Of hoary Age, and all thy fame depart; 
In vain thy head, aspiring, scales the sky— 
Prostrate in dust that lofty head must lie. 
The soul alone (the precious boon of heaven) 
Can fearless brave of Timeand Fate the rage. 
When to thy deep foundations thou art riven, 
Yea, Egypt! blotted from the historic page, 
She shall survive—shall ever, ever bloom, 
In radiant youth, triumphant o’er the tomb. 
Z. 
THE PROVERB DISCUSSED. 
Turnex’s time for all things! it was said 
By him who Wisdom plac’d his bliss in: 
Then sure, thou coy and cruel maid, 
You must allow—a time for kissing. 
“‘ Wise Solomon could never err— 
There’s kissing time, I'll not deny ; 
But, then, that time (excuse me, Sir!) 
Can never come when you are by.” 
OrtHopox. 
[June 1, 1 
HORACE—Book I. Ode3. 1 
TRANSLATED BY LOED Ss. 
TO DELIUS. 
In great affairs preserve a mind 
To equanimity inclin’d, 
And moderation in prosperity, 
© Delius! fated soon to die ;— 
Whether at all things you repine, 
Or on the cooling grass recline, 
Beneath the shade on festal day, 
Moistening, with rich Falern, your clay, 
Where the vast pine, and poplar white, 
A pleasing shade, in loye unite 
Their boughs, and where the rippling wave 
Loves the green sloping banks to lave. 
For unguents call, and wine and rose, 
Whose fragile flower so sweetly blows, 
While cares and age and fate permit, 
While the frail thréad’s unsnapt as yet. ¢ 
You your bought forests, and your domes, 
And lands thro’ which red Tiber foams, 
Must leave ;—your heir will then enjoy 
Your hoarded treasures pil’d on high. 
If rich, from Inachus you trace 
Your birth, or of the lowest race 
Deriv'd beneath the cope of heaven, 
Still must you be to Orcus given. 
To the same port our course we bend ; 
In the same urn our fortunes blend : 
Sooner or later comes the lot 
That sends us to the eternal boat. ~ 
HORACE —Book II. Ode 14. 
TO POSTHUMUS. 
Postuumus, swiftly glide away — 
The fleeting years, nor virtues stay 
Wrinkles, or fast-approaching age, 
Or Death’s ungovernable rage. 
Nor, if three hundred bulls, each day, 
At tearless Pluto’s shrine, you slay, : 
Will he be sooth’d, whose wave restrains j 
Thrice-ample Geryon, bound in chains— 
And Tityus huge,—the stream, alas! 
O’er which all men are doom’d to pass, 
Who feed on earth; or kings supreme, 
Or needy clowns who drive the team. 
In vain, we fly war’s bloody roar ; 
In vain, hoarse Adria’s craggy shore: 
In vain, we shun autumnal winds, 
Noxious to bodies and to minds. 
Wandering Cocytus’ mournful flood, 
And Danaus’ curs’d, inhuman brood, 
. And Sisyphus, the robber fell, 
Condemn’d to lengthen’d pains in hell, 
Must meet your eye. Your pleasing wife, 
Your house, your land, your dearer life, 
Must all be left. Cypress abhorr’d, 
Alone, of all your trees, its lord 
Shall follow. © Thy more worthy heir 
Shall quaff thy wines, preserv’d with care; 
And purer juice thy pavement stain, 
‘Than what luxurious pontiffs drain. 
FB oy 
