The Mirror Of Literature, Amusement, And Instruction. Volume 14, No. 391, September 26, 1829. Various

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      But, bowed beneath the cross, see! prostrate fall

      The mummeries that long enthralled our isle;

      So perish error! and wide over all

      Let reason, truth, religion ever smile:

      And let not man, vain, impious man defile

      The spark heaven lighted in the human breast;

      Let no enthusiastic rage, no sophist's wile

      Lull the poor victim into careless rest,

      Since the pure gospel page can teach him to be blest.

      Weak, trifling man, O! come and ponder here

      Upon the nothingness of human things—

      How vain, how very vain doth then appear

      The city's hum, the pomp and pride of kings;

      All that from wealth, power, grandeur, beauty springs,

      Alike must fade, die, perish, be forgot;

      E'en he whose feeble hand now strikes the strings

      Soon, soon within the silent grave must rot—

      Yet Nature's still the same, though we see, we hear her not.