The stripling and the man of years,
  Warriors with twice ten thousand spears,
  Peasants and slaves and husbandmen,—­
  The shepherd from his mountain glen,
Vassal, and chief arrayed in gold
  And purple robes—­Philistines all
Are drawn together to behold
  Their mighty foeman held in thrall.

  Loud pealed the accents of the horn
  Upon the air of the clear morn,
  And deafening rose the mingled shout,
  Cleaving the air from that wild rout,
As, guarded by a cavalcade
  The illustrious prisoner appeared
And, ’mid the grove the dense spears made,
  His forehead like a tall oak reared.

  He stood with brawny shoulders bare,
  And tossed his nervous arms in air—­
  Chains, leathern thongs, and brazen bands
  Parted like wool within his hands;
And giant trunks of gnarled oak,
  Splintered and into ribbons rent,
Or by his iron sinews broke,
  Increased the people’s wonderment.

  The amphitheatre, where stood
  Spell-bound the mighty multitude,
  Rested its long and gilded walls
  Upon two pillars’ capitals: 
His brawny arms, with labor spent,
  He threw around the pillars there,
And to the deep blue firmament
  Lifted his sightless orbs in prayer.

  Anon the columns move—­they shake,
  Totter, and vacillate, and shake,
  And wrenched by giant force, come down
  Like a disrupted mountain’s crown,
With cornice, frieze, and chapiter,
  Girder, and spangled dome, and wall,
Ceiling of gold, and roof of fir,
  Crumbled in mighty ruin all.

  Down came the structure—­on the air
  Uprose in wildest shrieks despair,
  Rolling in echoes loud and long
  Ascending from the myriad throng: 
And Samson, with the heaps of dead
  Priest, vassal, chief, in ruin blent,
Piled over his victorious head
  His sepulchre and monument.

AN INFANT’S PRAYER.

The day is spent, on the calm evening hours,
  Like whispered prayer, come nature’s sounds abroad,
And with bowed heads the pure and gentle flowers
  Shake from their censers perfume to their God;
Thus would I bow the head and bend the knee,
And pour my soul’s pure incense, Lord, to Thee.

Creator of my body, I adore,
  Redeemer of my soul, I worship Thee,
Preserver of my being, I implore
  Thy light and power to guide and shelter me;
Be Thou my sun, as life’s dark vale I tread,
Be thou my shield to guard my infant head.

And when these eyes in dewy sleep shall close,
  Uplifted now in love to Thy great throne,
In the defenceless hours of my repose,
  Father and God, oh! leave me not alone,
But send thy angel minister’s to keep
With hovering wings their vigils while I sleep.

JOHN MARCHBORN COOLEY.

John Marchborn Cooley, the eldest son of the late Corbin Cooley, was born at the Cooley homestead, on the Susquehanna river, in Cecil county, a short distance below the junction of that stream and the Octoraro creek, on the first of March, 1827; and died at Darlington, Harford county, Maryland, April 13th, 1878.