'Tis piteous tale, in Grecian numbers told,―― Prometheus chain'd by Vulcan to a rock; Expos'd aloft to ev'ry tempest's shock, To burning sun, and winter's shiv'ring cold: And all his woe, as minstrel doth unfold, From love to man, whom other gods would mock. For man his hands Jove's treasury unlock; The stolen fire he breathes on man's dull mould. O, could this Bard have liv'd in Christian days, And seen our blessed Lord nail'd to the tree, Expos'd, from love to man, to scorn and woe; He would have sung of JESUS; and his lays Would shame our empty, soulless minstrelsy, Whose strains in praise of JESUS never flow! 10. ON TYNDALE, THE MARTYR. Tyndale! Blest martyr to the truth and right, Who in thy zeal didst cause, with labor long, God's word to shine out in thy native tongue, In killing thee the men, who to the light Darkness prefer, would shroud the world in night. Vain hope! for on the day of this great wrong The sun of truth arose on England's throng With not a cloud t' obscure its splendor bright. What though the men of Rome did strangle thee, Then burn thy body at the stake? Thy name Is honor'd in the earth, while infamy Attends thy foes, and bigots blush with shame. But more than this: in the last day God's Son Will give the glorious crown, which thou hast won! 11. MISERABLE OLD AGE. 'Tis weary through the race of life to run, Expos'd to noon-tide heat and chilly night, Mid storms, that well the boldest may affright, When clouds with lightnings arm'd obscure the sun. Our cares are vain; the good is never won; Sweet joys are fleeting as the meteor's light; Unfix'd as shadows are our hopes most bright; And toil of years is toil but just begun. Backward from long ascent we turn the eye, If haply the review may cheer the heart: The graves of those we love heave through the way. Forward we gaze: thick mists obstruct the sky, But precipice is near, from which we start; Yet naught remains but down to slide and die! 12. Idols. Psalm 135. The heathen gods are gods of yellow gold, Of shining silver, or perchance of wood,―― Moulded in various shapes, as moulder would, And for large sums to godless sinners sold. These gods have mouths, but speak not;――that were bold:―― Eyes have they, but they see not――as eyes should;―― Ears have they, but they hear not――yet are wooed; They breathe not through their throat――may it be told? Nor eyes, nor ears, nor thought, nor sense have they, Who to these idol-gods their homage give, And pray for succor to a stubborn block. We pity such strange folly――as we may;―― But if we worship idols, though they live, Do we not, too, the one Jehovah mock? 13. TO 4 PRESIDENTS ALIVE. 1826.