a conqueror, bursts on the night, Trumpet and fife swelling choral along, The triumph already sweeps marching in song. Farewell, fallen brothers, though this life be o'er, There's another, in which we shall meet you once more! 

           ROUSSEAU. Monument of our own age's shame, On thy country casting endless blame, Rousseau's grave, how dear thou art to me Calm repose be to thy ashes blest! In thy life thou vainly sought'st for rest, But at length 'twas here obtained by thee! When will ancient wounds be covered o'er? Wise men died in heathen days of yore; Now 'tis lighter—yet they die again.    Socrates was killed by sophists vile, Rousseau meets his death through Christians' wile,—     Rousseau—who would fain make Christians men! 

      FRIENDSHIP.     [From "Letters of Julius to Raphael," an unpublished Novel.]     Friend!—the Great Ruler, easily content, Needs not the laws it has laborious been The task of small professors to invent; A single wheel impels the whole machine Matter and spirit;—yea, that simple law, Pervading nature, which our Newton saw. This taught the spheres, slaves to one golden rein, Their radiant labyrinths to weave around Creation's mighty hearts: this made the chain, Which into interwoven systems bound All spirits streaming to the spiritual sun As brooks that ever into ocean run! Did not the same strong mainspring urge and guide Our hearts to meet in love's eternal bond? Linked to thine arm, O Raphael, by thy side Might I aspire to reach to souls beyond Our earth, and bid the bright ambition go To that perfection which the angels know! Happy, O happy—I have found thee—I Have out of millions found thee, and embraced; Thou, out of millions, mine!—Let earth and sky Return to darkness, and the antique waste—    To chaos shocked, let warring atoms be, Still shall each heart unto the other flee! Do I not find within thy radiant eyes Fairer reflections of all joys most fair? In thee I marvel at myself—the dyes Of lovely earth seem lovelier painted there, And in the bright looks of the friend is given A heavenlier mirror even of the heaven! Sadness casts off its load, and gayly goes From the intolerant storm to rest awhile, In love's true heart, sure haven of repose; Does not pain's veriest transports learn to smile From that bright eloquence affection gave To friendly looks?—there, finds not pain a grave? In all creation did I stand alone, Still to the rocks my dreams a soul should find, Mine arms should wreathe themselves around the stone, My griefs 

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