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LII.-THE ATLANTIC TELEGRAPH.

[Successfully laid between Europe and America July 27, 1866.]

1. GLORY to God above!

The Lord of life and love!

GEO. LANSING TAYLOR

Who makes his curtains clouds and waters dark;
Who spreads his chambers on the deep,
While all its armies silence keep,

Whose hand of old, world-rescuing, steered the ark;
Who led Troy's bands exiled,

And Genoa's god-like child,

And Mayflower, grandly wild,

And now has guided safe a grander bark
Who, from her iron loins

Has spun the thread that joins

Two yearning worlds made one with lightning spark.

2. Praise God! praise God! praise God!

The sea obeyed his rod,

What time his saints marched down its deeps of yore;
And now for Commerce, Science, Peace,
Redemption, Freedom, Love's increase,
He bids great ocean's barriers cease.

While flames celestial flash from shore to shore!
And nations pause 'mid battles' deadliest roar,
Till Earth's one heart swells upward and brims o'er
With thanks! thanks! thanks and praise!
To him who lives always!

Who reigns through endless days!

While halleluias sweet

Roll up as incense meet,

And all Earth's crowns are cast before his feet!

3. "And there was no more sea,"

Spake in rapt vision he

Who "a new heaven and a new earth" beheld,

And lo! we see the day

That ends its weltering sway,

And weds the nations, long asunder held!

Ten years of toil, of failure, fear,
Thousands to scorn and few to cheer,
What are they now to ears that hear,
To eyes that see their triumph near!

When lightning flames the ends of earth shall weld,
And wrong and right, by lightning beams dispelled,
Shail lift from all man's race,

And God the Father's face

Shall smile o'er all the world millennial grace!

4. FRANKLIN! and MORSE! and FIELD!
Great shades of centuries yield!

Make way for these in your sublimest throng!
Heroes of blood, great in immortal wrong,
Stoop your helmed heads and blush! O seers of song,
Of blood and strife no longer sing;

In heavenlier transport smite the string,
Soar, soar on purer, rapter wing,
Till all the throbbing azure ing
The song that erst began:

"Good will and peace toward man,"
Redeemed and bought with blood,
One mighty brotherhood!

And every bond that brings heart nearer heart,
Shall bring man nearer God, and bear a part
In that great work benign,

The work of love, that makes all worlds divine!

LIII. THE GLADIATOR.

1. STILLNESS reigned in the vast amphitheater, and from the countless thousands that thronged the spacious inclosure, not a breath was heard. Every tongue was mute with suspense, and every eye strained with anxiety toward the gloomy portal, where the gladiator was momentarily expected to enter. At length the trumpet sounded, and they led him forth into the broad arena. There was no mark of fear upon his manly countenance, as with majestic step and fearless eye he entered. He stood there, like another Apollo, firm and unber ding as the rigid oak. His fine proportioned form was matchless, and his turgid muscles spoke his giant strength.

2. "I am here," he cried, as his proud lip curled in scorn, "to glut the savage eyes of Rome's proud populace.

Aye, like a dog you throw me to a beast; and what is my offense? Why forsooth, I am a Christian. But know, ye can not fright my soul, for it is based upon a foundation stronger than the adamantine rock. Know ye, whose hearts are harder than the flinty stone, my heart quakes not with fear; and here I aver, I would not change condi tions with the blood-stained Nero, crowned though he be, not for the wealth of Rome. Blow ye your trumpet—I am ready."

3. The trumpet sounded, and a long, low growl was heard to proceed from the cage of a half-famished Numidian Lion, situated at the farthest end of the arena. The growl deepened into a roar of tremendous volume, which shook the enormous edifice to its very center. At that moment, the door was thrown open, and the huge monster of the forest sprung from his den, with one mighty bound to the opposite side of the arena. His eyes blazed with the brilliancy of fire, as he slowly drew his length along the sand, and prepared to make a spring upon his formidable antagonist. The gladiator's eye quailed not: his lip paled not; but he stood immovable as a statue, waiting the approach of his wary foe.

4. At length, the lion crouched himself into an attitude for springing, and with the quickness of lightning, leaped full at the throat of the gladiator. But he was prepared for him, and bounding lightly on one side, his falchion flashed for a moment over his head, and in the next it was deeply dyed in the purple blood of the monster. A roar of redoubled fury again resounded through the spacious amphitheater, as the enraged animal, mad with anguish from the wound he had just received, wheeled hastily round, and sprung a second time at the Nazarene.

5. Again was the falchion of the cool and intrepid gladiator, deeply planted in the breast of his terrible ad versary; but so sudden had been the second attack, that it was impossible to avoid the full impetus of his bound, and he staggered and fell upon his knee. The monster's paw

was upon his shoulder, and he felt his hot fiery breath upon his cheek, as it rushed through his wide distended nostrils. The Nazarene drew a short dagger from his girdle, and endeavored to regain his feet. But his foe, aware of his design, precipitating himself upon him, threw him with violence to the ground.

6. The excitement of the populace was now wrought up to a high pitch, and they waited the result with breathless suspense. A low growl of satisfaction now announced the noble animal's triumph, as he sprang fiercely upon his prostrate enemy. But it was of short duration; the dagger of the gladiator pierced his vitals, and together they rolled over and over, across the broad arena. Again the dagger drank deep of the monster's blood, and again a roar of anguish reverberated through the stately edifice.

7. The Nazarene, now watching his opportunity, sprung with the velocity of thought from the terrific embrace of his enfeebled antagonist, and regaining his falchion which had fallen to the ground in the struggle, he buried it deep in the heart of the infuriated beast. The noble king of the forest, faint from the loss of blood, concentrated all his remaining strength in one mighty bound; but it was too late; the last blow had been driven home to the center of life, and his huge form fell with a mighty crash upon the arena, amid the thundering acclamations of the populace.

LIV.-HENRY V. AT HARFLEUR.

SHAKSPEA RE

1. ONCE more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;

Or close the wall up with our English dead.

In peace there's nothing so becomes a man

As modest stillness and humility;

But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger;
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favored rage;
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;

Let it pry through the portage of the head
Like the brass cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it,
As fearfully as doth a gall-ed rock

O'erhang and jutty his confounded base,
Swilled with the wild and wasteful ocean.

2. Now set the teeth, and stretch the nostril wide,
Hold hard the breath, and bend up every spirit
To his full hight. Now on, you noblest English,
Whose blood is fetched from fathers of war-proof;
Fathers, that like so many Alexanders,

Have in these parts from morn till even fought,
And sheathed their swords for lack of argument:
Be copy now to men of grosser blood,

And teach them how to war!

8. And you, good yeomen,

Whose limbs are made in England, show us here
The mettle of your pasture; let us swear

That you are worth your breeding, which I doubt not;
For there is none of you so mean and base
That hath not noble luster in your eye;
I see you stand like grayhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start: the game 's a-fuot;
Follow your spirit; and, upon this charge,
Cry, Heaven for Harry, England, and St. George !

LV.-SEVEN AGES OF MAN.

1. ALL the world's a stage,

SHAKSPEARE

And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
Then, the whining school-boy, with his satchel,
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then, the lover,
Sighing like a furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then, a soldier,
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like a pard,
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth.

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