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Pursuit and evidence so far must fail,
And, guilt escaping, passion then might plead
In angry spirits for her old, free range,
And the "wild justice of revenge" prevail.


THOUGH to give timely warning and deter
Is one great aim of penalty, extend
Thy mental vision further, and ascend
Far higher, else full surely shalt thou err.
What is a State? The wise behold in her
A creature born of time, that keeps one eye
Fixed on the statutes of Eternity,

To which her judgments reverently defer.
Speaking through Law's dispassionate voice, the

Endues her conscience with external life
And being, to preclude or quell the strife

Of individual will, to elevate

The grovelling mind, the erring to recall,
And fortify the moral sense of all.


OUR bodily life, some plead, that life the shrine

Of an immortal spirit, is a gift

So sacred, so informed with light divine,
That no tribunal, though most wise to sift

Deed and intent, should turn the Being adrift

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Into that world where penitential tear

May not avail, nor prayer have for God's ear
A voice, that world whose veil no hand can lift

For earthly sight. "Eternity and Time,"
They urge, "have interwoven claims and rights
Not to be jeopardized through foulest crime:
The sentence rule by mercy's heaven-born lights."
Even so; but measuring not by finite sense
Infinite Power, perfect Intelligence.


AH! think how one compelled for life to abide
Locked in a dungeon needs must eat the heart
Out of his own humanity, and part

With every hope that mutual cares provide ;
And, should a less unnatural doom confide
In life-long exile on a savage coast,
Soon the relapsing penitent may boast

Of yet more heinous guilt, with fiercer pride.
Hence thoughtful Mercy, Mercy sage and pure,
Sanctions the forfeiture that Law demands,
Leaving the final issue in His hands

Whose goodness knows no change, whose love is


Who sees, foresees; who cannot judge amiss,

And wafts at will the contrite soul to bliss.


SEE the Condemned alone within his cell
And prostrate at some moment when remorse
Stings to the quick, and, with resistless force,
Assaults the pride she strove in vain to quell.
Then mark him, him who could so long rebel,
The crime confessed, a kneeling Penitent
Before the Altar, where the Sacrament
Softens his heart, till from his eyes outwell
Tears of salvation. Welcome death! while Heaven
Does in this change exceedingly rejoice;
While yet the solemn heed the State hath given
Helps him to meet the last Tribunal's voice

In faith, which fresh offices, were he cast
On old temptations, might for ever blast.



YES, though He well may tremble at the sound Of his own voice, who from the judgment-seat Sends the pale Convict to his last retreat

In death; though Listeners shudder all around, They know the dread requital's source profound; Nor is, they feel, its wisdom obsolete

(Would that it were!) - the sacrifice unmeet For Christian Faith. But hopeful signs abound; The social rights of man breathe purer air;

Religion deepens her preventive care;
Then, moved by needless fear of past abuse,
Strike not from Law's firm hand that awful rod,
But leave it thence to drop for lack of use:
O speed the blessed hour, Almighty God!



THE formal World relaxes her cold chain
For one who speaks in numbers; ampler scope
His utterance finds; and, conscious of the gain,
Imagination works with bolder hope

The cause of grateful Reason to sustain ;

And, serving Truth, the heart more strongly beats
Against all barriers which his labor meets
In lofty place, or humble Life's domain.
Enough; before us lay a painful road,

And guidance have I sought in duteous love
From Wisdom's heavenly Father. Hence hath


Patience, with trust that, whatsoe'er the way
Each takes in this high matter, all may move
Cheered with the prospect of a brighter day.



Page 1,

"The White Doe of Rylstone."

THE Poem of The White Doe of Rylstone is founded on a local tradition, and on the Ballad in Percy's Collection, entitled, "The Rising of the North." The tradition is as follows:"About this time," not long after the Dissolution, "a White Doe," say the aged people of the neighborhood, "long continued to make a weekly pilgrimage from Rylstone over the fells of Bolton, and was constantly found in the Abbey Churchyard during divine service; after the close of which, she returned home as regularly as the rest of the congregation." (DR. WHITAKER'S History of the Deanery of Craven.) Rylstone was the property and residence of the Nortons, distinguished in that ill-advised and unfortunate Insurrection; which led me to connect with this tradition the principal circumstances of their fate, as recorded in the Ballad.

"Bolton Priory," says Dr. Whitaker in his excellent book, The History and Antiquities of the Deanery of Craven, "stands upon a beautiful curvature of the Wharf, on a level sufficiently elevated to protect it from inundations, and low enough for every purpose of picturesque effect.

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Opposite to the east window of the Priory Church, the river washes the foot of a rock nearly perpendicular, and of the richest purple, where several of the mineral beds, which break out, instead of maintaining their usual inclination to the horizon, are twisted by some inconceivable process into undulating and spiral lines. To the South all is soft and delicious; the eye reposes upon a few rich pastures, a moderate reach of

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