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POWER OF MUSIC.
Now, Coaches and Chariots! roar on like a stream
AN Orpheus! an Orpheus!—yes, Faith may grow They are deaf to your murmurs-they care Lot for bold,
Nor what ye are flying, nor what you pursue!
And take to herself all the wonders of old; -
That tall Man, a Giant in bulk and in height,
WHAT crowd is this? what have we here? we must
A Telescope upon its frame, and pointed to the sky:
That long has leaned forward, leans hour after hour!
Or must we be constrained to think that these Specta
Mark that Cripple who leans on his Crutch; like a Poor in estate, of manners base, men of the multitude,
No, no, this cannot be-Men thirst for power and
Does, then, a deep and earnest thought the blissful | Seem to participate, the whilst they view
Of him who gazes, or has gazed? a grave and steady Vividly pictured in some glassy pool,
That doth reject all show of pride, admits no outward sign,
Because not of this noisy world, but silent and divine!
Whatever be the cause, 't is sure that they who pry and pore
Seem to meet with little gain, seem less happy than before:
One after One they take their turn, nor have I one
That doth not slackly go away, as if dissatisfied.
THE HAUNTED TREE.
THOSE silver clouds collected round the sun
By soft reflection-grateful to the sky,
To rocks, fields, woods. Nor doth our human sense
Ask, for its pleasure, screen or canopy
More ample than the time-dismantled Oak
Was fashioned; whether by the hand of Art,
In languor; or, by Nature, for repose
Of panting Wood-nymph, wearied by the chase.
Than fairest spiritual Creature of the groves,
Not even a zephyr stirs ;- the obnoxious Tree
And to my heart is still endeared
WHEN Ruth was left half desolate,
And she had made a Pipe of straw,
Beneath her Father's root, alone
She seemed to live; her thoughts her own;
Pleased with herself, nor sad, nor gay;
There came a Youth from Georgia's shore
A military Casque he wore,
With splendid feathers drest;
He brought then from the Cherokees;
From Indian blood you deem him sprung: Ah no! he spake the English tongue,
And bore a Soldier's name;
And, when America was free From battle and from jeopardy, He 'cross the ocean came.
With hues of genius on his cheek
In finest tones the Youth could speak: - While he was yet a Boy,
The moon, the glory of the sun,
And streams that murmur as they run, Had been is dearest joy.
†The splendid appearance of these scarlet flowers, which are scattered with such profusion over the Hills in the Southern parts of North America, is frequently mentioned by Bartram in his Travels.