Select Poetry.

Hawke's Bay Times, Volume XIII, Issue 585, 11 June 1868, Page 4

Select Poetry.

THE BRITISH IDOL. fJTAXK ye of the Idols, that have long held hlighting sway lu t’ue wretched homes of dark benighted heathen far away ? Mourn ye for their, ignorance, who how down to wood and stone, And drown wiih savage fiendish yells the human victim’s groan? Send ye, in your Christian nttv. noble men across the seas, To teach a holier faith and a purer creed to these ? And ppo ye not- nr.d liiiiu- ye not, that in your _ midst the™ stands A shrine fur more polluted than the altars of mesa lands? Mightier than the visioned god the Babylonian saw— Scoffing at authority, and mocking human law: — Deadlier in its power, and its quenchless thirst for blood, Than the world-famed golden Idol, on great Dura’s plain that stood. Intemperance! dread idol! sits aloft In regal state, And crowds of blinded votaries in his temples hourly wait. Bringing ceaseless offerings of price and worth untold; Hopes, hearts, and homes are sacrificed—worth more than heaps of gold! Wondrous fascination, and a strange mysterious art. Hath this dread idol to ensnare, and stupify the heart: Youth’s energies are palsied, manhood’s strength Is paralysed, The wisdom of grey hairs into folly is surprised, Senators are blinded—mists becloud the sage’s sight— Dispensers of their country's laws forget to judge aright; AU whom its blighting power hath reached,—all whom its spell hath bound, — Shorn of their strength, and wealth, and -wisdom, at its feet are found. Glowed the youth’s warm heart with a pure, In- - spiring flame ? Onward! was his motto? Ever upward! was his aim? Beamed his eye with flashes from a Heavcu-en-kindled mind ? Yearned his heart with pity for the woes of human kind P AH but perfect seemed he. In his noble virtuous truth P Do! that wily, deadly spell hath chained the aspiring youth! Honor, fame, and dearest hopes of manhood he is bringing, And on the great Destroyer's shrine all—wildly madly flinging 1 Stood the minister of Christ? the messenger of Heaven ? Glowing thoughts and burning words to heart, and utterance given ? Chaining raptured, listening ears, —arresting careless souls, — As a holy tide of eloquence in gushing thought waves rolls? Beemcd he as a Samson in his giant spiritmight ? Wherefore droops his soaring wing in its glorious flight? Ah! hath he stooped to join the revellers at the idol feast, And the man, late little less than seraph, sinks below the beast! Lived a benefactor, scattering wide-spread good around ? His head with widows' thanks, and with orphans’ blessings crowned? Prizing hut his wealth as it gave the precious power To aid a needy brother in a dark or suffering hour? God-like in his aim to lessen human grief and woe ? What hand hath stemmed the love-tide in Its gushing blessed flow ? Alas! ho stopped to worship at the dark unhallowed shrine! And the demon’s touch hath blotted out nil trace of the Divine! Mark yo not the ravages o’erspreading our fair land? Bee ye not the gorgeous temples rise on every hand ? Hear ye not the Babel sounds of madmen’s revelry, Mingled with the hideous shouts of oaths and blasphemy P Baw ye not the husband, father, friend, beloved and prized, Go in to worship,—and come out—a thing to be despised ? Have you seen fair woman, with God-given beautygraced, Bewitched, ensnared, enslaved, transformed, degraded, and debased ? Know ye not of homes where the light hath left the hearth ? Whoso inmates have been driven forth, as outcasts of the eaith ? Know ye not of families, proud, honored names that bore, Withered, and quenched, and blighted by the dread unholy power ? And seeing, hearing, knowing thus, —can ye stand and say, " I'll raise no hand, put forth no might, to sweep the curse away; I care not for the thousands that the monster vice enslaves; I care not for the lost ones filling dark, dishonored graves ?” Bouse ye Christian man I to the mighty conflict come! Take your stand and fight with idolatry at home! Fasten not the rohe of self-righteous pride around ye! Turn not from the claims of your brethren that surround ye! Make no terms with that which enslaves and curses man Seize some weapon, fill some post, or organise some plan! Join the toiler*, and ere long, in Victory's joyful hour, Ye shall join to swell the shout, *• The tyrant is no more!” E, C. A. Allen.