The half-suppression of the sigh,
The stifled tear in every eye,

Foretold the awful doom was nigh,
Though reft of half its agony.

The half-clos'd eye, the uprais'd look,
The hand upon the sacred book,

The parting smile which none could brook,
Call'd forth the tears of misery.

One wish to gain the heavenly shore,
One sigh for those she'd see no more,
One struggle-and it all was o'er,

And buried in futurity.

THE DEATH OF THE ATHEIST,

A FRAGMENT.

Εχθρόν γε θνητοῖς, καὶ θεοῖς στυγουμένον.-Eurip.

Loud blew the angry blast;

The midnight storm was hurtling in the air,
And all was dark and desolate: the moon
Refus'd her wonted solace, and withdrew
Her train of starry satellites! and all
Was buried in the fearfulness of night.
No light shone in the firmament, save where
The lightning flash'd across the traveller's path
In transient splendour, which but serv'd to show
The dangers and the horrors of the way.
All nature was convuls'd: the elements,
So lately sleeping in one happy calm

Of heav'nly peacefulness, now burst their bounds,

And seem'd one universal war to wage.

Loud burst the thunder-crash; and each man look'd

Into his neighbour's face, as if to ask

If that night were his last? for it did seem

As if the Almighty Angel had dissolv'd

The charm of death; and that dread hour had come

Which borders on eternity, when all

Must wake from the omnipotence of death.

The horse had thrown his rider: his wild eyes

Seem'd starting from their sockets; he burst forth Heedless and masterless, and with each flash Rear'd his proud neck, and stood aghast with fear; So terrible and awful was that night!

But who was he, who, in that fearful hour, Unknown and friendless, 'neath a stranger's roof, Had found a cheerless welcome, but to breathe His last farewell in frightful agony?

"Twas the stern Atheist! in whose guilty face, Death was too deeply stamp'd: within his breast

Tumultuous passions rag'd, more horrible

Than the proud elements, which round him pour'd Their wrath in each loud thunder-crash, as if Revolting at the actions of that man.

Fix'd was his glazed eye and motionless;

His glance was terrible: upon his brow

A thousand crimes were trac'd, and on his lineaments
Despair, disease, and miserable death!

He turn'd to former deeds, and if perchance
Oblivion would disperse them, and produce
One gleam of sweet forgetfulness, too soon
Remembrance would awake, and o'er him burst
In one long fearful groan of misery.

The thunder roll'd above him; and more near
The lightning flash'd-oh! surely in that hour
The Almighty wrath was kindled, for if aught
Did whisper of repentance, he would curl

His lip in bitter scorn. Upon his brow

Sat the big heat-drops-and his voice howl'd forth

Wild and unmeaning sentences, which spoke
Of murder, sacrilege, and fearful deeds.

And now the storm roll'd on more awfully;
All objects faded round him, and a film.

Spread o'er his fixed eyes; for death held forth
His last and darkest terrors: in his throat

Th' unutterable words were chok'd, which breath'd
Curses and blasphemies; he heav'd his breast,

Gasping for breath-and gave one shriek—and died!