The New-Born Light of the Press.

The following magnificent lines are extracted from a Poem, entitled “ ,” by Ebenezer Elliot, the great Radical Poet of the North, of whom we lately published in the , a short biogra- phical sketch. No tyrant, or tyrant’s slave, could write such lines.

God said, “ Let there be light !” Grim darkness felt his might, And fled away ; Then, startled seas and mountains cold Shone forth, all bright in blue and gold, And cried, “ ’Tis day ! ’tis day !” “ Hail holy light !” exclaim’d The thund’rous cloud, that flam’d O’er daisies white ; And, lo, the rose, in crimson dress’d, Lean’d sweetly on the lily’s breast, And, blushing, murmur’d “ Light !” Then was the skylark born ; Then rose th’ embattled corn ; Then floods of praise Flow’d o’er the sunny hills of noon ; And then, in stillest night, the moon Pour’d forth her pensive lays, Lo, heaven’s bright bow is glad ! Lo, trees and flowers, all clad In glory, bloom ! And shall the mortal sons of God Be senseless as the trodden clod, And darker than the tomb ? No, by the mind of man ! By the swart artisan ! By God, our Sire ! Our souls have holy light within, And every form of grief and sin Shall see and feel its fire. By earth, and hell, and heaven, The shroud of souls is riven ! Mind, mind alone, Is light, and hope, and life, and power ! Earth’s deepest night, from this bless’d hour, The night of minds, is gone ! “ The Press !” all lands shall sing ; The Press, the Press we bring, All lands to bless : Oh, pallid want ! oh, labour stark ! Behold, we bring the second ark ! The Press, the Press ! the Press !