O emblem of Godhead! majestic, supreme, Life drinks at thy fountain, its wave is our breath, While in rapturous awe of the glory we dream Whose glance is creation, whose absence is death. SUNSET ON CAMPAGNA OF ROME. When bathes the sun his burning crown, Within old Ostia's main, He sends transforming angels down Upon the Roman plain. Bright threads they fling of iris hue, And scatter crimson plumes, As if all nature to renew With showers of fiery blooms. See flashing out in golden grace A thousand arches rise, And bridge the violet depths of space To mountains of surprise. To mountain waves of amethyst, All flaming up carmine; Upon each crest the angels rest Who tend the sun's decline. But soon the subtle pomps of light Evade us like a dream, And with a breath the greys of night Envelop every gleam. The fires are dead, the gold is stone, The mountains, shadowy ghosts: Ah, whither are the angels gone With all their radiant hosts? They travel on from height to height, In splendour to diffuse The truth that earth's divinest light Hath no abiding hues. [Illustration] CUPID REFORMED. LOVE TRAINED IS HEAVEN GAINED. You say he wounds both good and naught, Both old and young in wanton play, Was never brat so badly taught,-- There, take his feathery stings away: Now send him to the Sunday school, With decent frock o'er shoulders small, There let him learn the golden rule, He'll prove a cherub after all. COLOSSAL HAND IN MUSEUM AT ROME, A.D. 1856. This hand colossal from Colossus torn, This idol fragment pedestal'd on high, Fulfils a nobler purpose now forlorn, Than in the pomp of its integrity. It heartens love, that finger pointing ever Up towards the heavenly many-mansioned home, Where members of one Lord no creed shall sever, Though sundered here, alas! in papal Rome. PURITANS AND RITUALISTS. In robes symbolical, through incensed air, Some pray in temples amid lights and hues, While some in tabernacles simply bare, Beauty's bright aid mistrustingly refuse. Pray, Christians, as ye will, by nurture swayed, Habit, tradition, phantasy, or youth-- With faith is all; our Lord hath only said, He will be served in spirit and in truth. But, brethren of a brotherhood divine, So dear to Him on whom ye daily call, Why darken with the dust of strife malign The sunshine of that love that blesses all? [Illustration] THE BEACON CREST. TO THE MEMORY OF SPENCER, MARQUIS OF NORTHAMPTON. A blessing on the beacon's name, Our guide across the midnight sea; Who bears for crest that guardian flame, Himself a burning light should be. And such thou wert, my patron dear, Thy beams were justice, faith, and love; Ah! may we by their memory steer, Since thou art with the lights above. ROOKS.