They placed me where those streamers play,
Those nimble beams of brilliant light;
It would the stoutest heart dismay,

To see, to feel, that dreadful sight:
So swift, so pure, so cold, so bright,
They pierced my frame with icy wound;
And all that half-year's polar night,

These dancing streamers wrapp'd me round.

Slowly that darkness pass'd away,
When down upon the earth I fell,-
Some hurried sleep was mine by day;
But, soon as toll'd the evening bell,
They forced me on, where ever dwell
Far-distant men in cities fair,

Cities of whom no travellers tell,

Nor feet but mine were wanderers there.

Their watchmen stare, and stand aghast,
As on we hurry through the dark;
The watch-light blinks as we go past,

The watch-dog shrinks and fears to bark; The watch-tower's bell sounds shriil; and, hark! The free wind blows-we've left the town

A wide sepulchral ground I mark,

And on a tombstone place me down.

What monuments of mighty dead!

What tombs of various kind are found!
And stones erect their shadows shed
On humble graves, with wickers bound.
Some risen fresh, above the ground,
Some level with the native clay :
What sleeping millions wait the sound,
"Arise, ye dead, and come away!"

Alas! they stay not for that call;

Spare me this woe! ye demons, spare!— They come ! the shrouded shadows all,'Tis more than mortal brain can bear; Rustling they rise, they sternly glare At man upheld by vital breath; Who, led by wicked fiends, should dare To join the shadowy troops of death! Yes, I have felt all man can feel,

Till he shall pay his nature's debt; Ills that no hope has strength to heal, No mind the comfort to forget: Whatever cares the heart can fret, The spirits wear, the temper gall, Woe, want, dread, anguish, all beset My sinful soul!-together all! 5

Those fiends upon a shaking fen

Fix'd me, in dark tempestuous night; There never trod the foot of men,

There flock'd the fowl in wint'ry flight; There danced the moor's deceitful light Above the pool where sedges grow; And when the morning-sun shone bright, It shone upon a field of snow.

They hung me on a bough so small,

The rook could build her nest no higher;

They fix'd me on the trembling ball

That crowns the steeple's quiv'ring spire; They set me where the seas retire,

But drown with their returning tide; And made me flee the mountain's fire,

When rolling from its burning side.

I've hung upon the ridgy steep

Of cliffs, and held the rambling brier; I've plunged below the billowy deep,

Where air was sent me to respire;
I've been where hungry wolves retire;
And (to complete my woes) I've ran
Where Bedlam's crazy crew conspire
Against the life of reasoning man.

I've furl'd in storms the flapping sail,
By hanging from the topmast-head;

I've served the vilest slaves in jail,

And pick'd the dunghill's spoil for bread; I've made the badger's hole my bed, I've wander'd with a gipsy crew;

I've dreaded all the guilty dread,

And done what they would fear to do.

On sand, where ebbs and flows the flood, Midway they placed and bade me die; Propt on my staff, I stoutly stood

When the swift waves came rolling by; And high they rose, and still more high, Till my lips drank the bitter brine; I sobb'd convulsed, then cast mine eye, And saw the tide's re-flowing sign.

And then, my dreams were such as nought
Could yield but my unhappy case;

I've been of thousand devils caught,
And thrust into that horrid place,
Where reign dismay, despair, disgrace;
Furies with iron fangs were there,
To torture that accursed race,
Doom'd to dismay, disgrace, despair.

Harmless I was; yet hunted down
For treasons, to my soul unfit;
I've been pursued through many a town,
For crimes that petty knaves commit;
I've been adjudged t' have lost my wit,
Because I preach'd so loud and well;
And thrown into the dungeon's pit,
For trampling on the pit of hell.

Such were the evils, man of sin,
That I was fated to sustain;
And add to all, without-within,

A soul defiled with every stain
That man's reflecting mind can pain;

That pride, wrong, rage, despair, can make ; In fact, they'd nearly touch'd my brain, And reason on her throne would shake.

But pity will the vilest seek,

If punish'd guilt will not repine,—
I heard a heavenly Teacher speak,
And felt the SUN OF MERCY shine:
I hail'd the light! the birth divine!
And then was seal'd among the few;
Those angry fiends beheld the sign,
And from me in an instant flew.

Come hear how thus the charmers cry
To wandering sheep, the strays of sin,
While some the wicket-gate pass by,

And some will knock and enter in :
Full joyful 'tis a soul to win,

For he that winneth souls is wise; Now hark! the holy strains begin,

And thus the sainted preacher cries :

"Pilgrim, burthen'd with thy sin,
Come the way to Zion's gate,
There, till Mercy let thee in,

Knock and weep and watch and wait.
Knock-He knows the sinner's cry:
Weep!-He loves the mourner's tears:
Watch-for saving grace is nigh:
Wait,-till heavenly light appears.

"Hark! it is the Bridegroom's voice;
Welcome, pilgrim, to thy rest;
Now within the gate rejoice,

Safe and seal'd and bought and blest!
Safe-from all the lures of vice,
Seal'd-by signs the chosen know,
Bought by love and life the price,
Blest-the mighty debt to owe.

"Holy Pilgrim ! what for thee
In a world like this remain ?
From thy guarded breast shall flee
Fear and shame, and doubt and pain.
Fear the hope of Heaven shall fly,
Shame-from glory's view retire,
Doubt-in certain rapture die,
Pain-in endless bliss expire."

But though my day of grace was come,
Yet still my days of grief I find;
The former clouds' collected gloom
Still sadden the reflecting mind;
The soul, to evil things consign'd,
Will of their evil some retain ;
The man will seem to earth inclined,
And will not look erect again.