More gorgeous robes ye see, and trappings rare,
And watch the gaudier forms that gaily move,
And deem perchance, mistaken as you are
The "coat of many colors" proves His love,
Whose sign is in the heart and whose reward above.
And ye, blest laborers in this humble sphere,
To deeds of saintlike charity inclined,
Who from your cells of meditation dear
Come forth to gird the weak, untutor'd mind,—
Yet ask no payment, save one smile refined
Of grateful love,—one tear of contrite pain,
Meekly ye forfeit to your mission kind
The rest of earthly Sabbaths.—Be your gain
A Sabbath without end, mid yon celestial plain.
MISSOLONGHI.
Famine hath worn them pale, that noble band;—
Yet round the long-beleagured wall,
With wasted frame, and iron hand,
Like watching skeletons they stand,
To conquer, or to fall.—
Hark!—Hark! the war-cry. Swells the shout
From wild Arabia's wandering rout,
From turbid Nilus' swarthy brood,
From Ibrahim's host who thirst for blood,
'T is answer'd from the echoing skies,
Sons of Miltiades, arise!—
