THE CASTLE OF IMAGINATION.* JUST in the centre of that wood was rear'd green. Through this wide interval the roving eye From turrets proud might trace the waving line Where meet the mountains green and azure sky, And view the deep when sun-gilt billows.shine; Fair bounds to sight, that never thought confine, But tempt it far beyond, till by the charm Of some sweet wood-note or some whispering pine Call'd home again, or by the soft alarm Of Love's approaching step, and her encircling arm. Through this wide interval, the mountain side Now stretch'd a blue, and now a golden zone A spangled veil of leaves, seems heaven and earth to bind. Above the canopy, so thick and green, And spread so high o'er that enchanted vale, Through scatter'd openings oft were glimpses seen Of fleecy clouds, that, link'd together, sail In Loonlight clear before the gentle gale: Sometimes a shooting meteor draws a glance; Sometimes a twinkling star, or planet pale, J.ong holds the lighted eye, as in a trance; And oft the milky-way gleams through the white expanse. That castle's open windows, though half-hid With flowering vines, show'd many a vision fair. A face all bloom, or light young forms, that thrid Some maze within, or lonely ones that wear The garb of joy with sorrow's thoughtful air, Of caught the eye a moment: and the sound Of low, sweet music often issued there, And by its magic held the listener bound, And seem'd to hold the winds and forests far aroun This and the two extracts which follow ar: fro a "The Religion of Taste." Within, the queen of all, in pomp or mirth, While glad attendants at her glance unfold Their shining wings, and fly through heaven and earth, Oft took her throne of burning gems and gold, Adorn'd with emblems that of empire told, And rising in the midst of trophies bright, That bring her memory from the days of old, And help prolong her reign, and with the flight Of every year increase the wonders of her might. In all her dwelling, tales of wild romance, Of terror, love, and mystery dark or gay, Were scatter'd thick to catch the wandering glance, And stop the dreamer on his unknown way; There, too, was every sweet and lofty lay, The sacred, classic, and romantic, sung As that enchantress moved in might or play; And there was many a harp but newly strung, Yet with its fearless notes the whole wide valley rung. There, from all lands and ages of her fame, Were marble forms, array'd in order due, In groups and single, all of proudest name; In them the high, the fair, and tender grew To life intense in love's impassion'd view, And from each air and feature, bend and swell, Each shapely neck, and lip, and forehead threw O'er each enamour'd sense so deep a spell, The thoughts but with the past or bright ideal dwell. The walls around told all the pencil's power; There proud creations of each mighty hand Shone with their hues and lines, as in the hour When the last touch was given at the command Of the same genius that at first had plann'd, Exulting in its great and glowing thought: Bright scenes of peace and war, of sea and land, Of love and glory, to new life were wrought, From history, from fable, and from nature brought. With these were others all divine, drawn all From ground where oft, with signs and accents dread, The lonely prophet doom'd to sudden fall Proud kings and cities, and with gentle tread Bore life's quick triumph to the humble dead, And where strong angels flew to blast or save, Where martyr'd hosts of old, and youthful bled, And where their mighty LORD o'er land and wave Spread life and peace till death, then spread them through the grave. From these fix'd visions of the hallow'd eye, Some kindling gleams of their ethereal glow, Would ofttimes fall, as from the opening sky, On eyes delighted, glancing to and fro, Or fasten'd till their orbs dilated grow; Then would the proudest seem with joy to learr. Truths they had fear'd or felt ashamed to know; The skeptic would believe, the lost return; And all the cold and low would seem to rise and burn. Theirs was devotion kindled by the vast, The beautiful, impassion'd, and refined; And in the deep enchantment o'er them cast, They look'd from earth, and soar'd above their kind To the bless'd calm of an abstracted mind, Such were the lone enthusiasts, wont to dwell Rapt in the love of all the high and sweet, As drawn from all the charms which in that valley meet. In stripes drawn parallel with order rare, As of some temple vast or colonnade, While on green turf, made smooth without his care He wander'd o'er its stripes of light and shade And heard the dying day-breeze all the bough pervade. "T was thus in nature's bloom and solitude He nursed his grief till nothing could assuage; "T was thus his tender spirit was subdued, Till in life's toils it could no more engage; And his had been a useless pilgrimage, Had he been gifted with no sacred power, To send his thoughts to every future age; But he is gone where grief will not devour, Where beauty will not fade, and skies will never lower. ROUSSEAU AND COWPER. ROUSSEAU Could weep-yes, with a heart of stone Was he but justly wretched from his crimes? tween The earth and skies, to darken human hope? And leave him in thick gloom his weary way to grope? He, too, could give himself to musing deep; And he could cherish wild and mournful dreams, THE CURE OF MELANCHOLY. AND thou, to whom long worshipp'd nature lends No strength to fly from grief or bear its weight, Stop not to rail at foes or fickle friends, Nor set the world at naught, nor spurn at fate; None seek thy misery, none thy being hate; Break from thy former self, thy life begin; Do thou the good thy thoughts oft meditate, And thou shalt feel the good man's peace within, And at thy dying day his wreath of glory win. With deeds of virtue to embalm his name, He dies in triumph or serene delight; Weaker and weaker grows his mortal frame At every breath, but in immortal might His spirit grows, preparing for its flight: The world recedes and fades like clouds of even, But heaven comes nearer fast, and grows more bright, All intervening mists far off are driven; The world will vanish soon, and all will soon be heaven. Wouldst thou from sorrow find a sweet relief? Or is thy heart oppress'd with woes untold? Balm wouldst thou gather for corroding grief? Pour blessings round thee like a shower of gold: "Tis when the rose is wrapp'd in many a fold Close to its heart, the worm is wasting there Its life and beauty; not when, all unroll'd, Leaf after leaf, its bosom rich and fair Breathes freely its perfumes throughout the imbient air. Wake, thou that sleepest in enchanted bowers, Lest these lost years should haunt thee on the night When death is waiting for thy number'd hours Some high or humble enterprise of good Become thy study, astir:c. rest, and food, No good of worth sublime will Heaven permit That, mid gay thousands, with the suns and showers Of half a century, grows alone before it flowers. Has immortality of name been given To them that idly worship hills and groves, And burn sweet incense to the queen of heaven? Did NEWTON learn from fancy, as it roves, To measure worlds, and follow where each moves? Did HOWARD gain renown that shall not cease, By wanderings wild that nature's pilgrim loves? Or did PAUL gain heaven's glory and its peace, By musing o'er the bright and tranquil isles of Greece? Beware lest thou, from sloth, that would appear But lowliness of mind, with joy proclaim Thy want of worth; a charge thou couldst not hear From other lips, without a blush of shame, Or pride indignant; then be thine the blame, And make thyself of worth; and thus enlist The smiles of all the good, the dear to fame; "Tis infamy to die and not be miss'd, Or let all soon forget that thou didst e'er exist. Rouse to some work of high and holy love, And thou an angel's happiness shalt know,Shalt bless the earth while in the world above; The good begun by thee shall onward flow In many a branching stream, and wider grow; The seed that, in these few and fleeting hours, Thy hands unsparing and unwearied sow, Shall deck thy grave with amaranthine flowers, And yield thee fruits divine in heaven's immortal bowers. SIGHTS AND SOUNDS OF THE NIGHT. ERE long the clouds were gone, the moon was set; When deeply blue without a shade of gray, The sky was fill'd with stars that almost met, Their points prolong'd and sharpen❜d to one ray; Through their transparent air the milky-way Seem'd one broad flame of pure resplendent white, As if some globe on fire, turn'd far astray, Had cross'd the wide arch with so swift a flight, l'hat for a moment shone its whole long track of light. At length in northern skies, at first but small, A sheet of light meteorous begun To spread on either hand, and rise and fall In waves, that slowly first, then quickly run Along its edge, set thick but one by one With spiry beams, that all at once shot high, Like those through vapours from the setting sun; Then sidelong as before the wind they fly, Like streaking rain from clouds that flit along the sky. Now all the mountain-tops and gulfs between Seem'd one dark plain; from forests, caves pro found, And rushing waters far below unseen, Rose a deep roar in one united sound, Alike pervading all the air around, And seeming e'en the azure dome to fill, And from it through soft ether to resound In low vibrations, sending a sweet thrill To every finger's end from rapture deep and still. LIVE FOR ETERNITY. A BRIGHT or dark eternity in view, As their chief portion, with the speed of wings, Our life is like the hurrying on the eve Before we start, on some long journey bound, When fit preparing to the last we leave, Then run to every room the dwelling round, And sigh that nothing needed can be found; Yet go we must, and soon as day shall break; We snatch an hour's repose, when loud the sound For our departure calls; we rise and take A quick and sad farewell, and go ere well awake. Rear'd in the sunshine, blasted by the storms Of changing time, scarce asking why or whence, Men come and go like vegetable forms, Though heaven appoints for them a work immense, Demanding constant thought and zeal intense, Awaked by hopes and fears that leave no room For rest to mortals in the dread suspense, While yet they know not if beyond the tomb A long, long life of bliss or wo shall be their doom. What matter whether pain or pleasures fill The swelling heart one little moment here? From both alike how vain is every thrill, While an untried eternity is near! Think not of rest. fond man, in life's career; The joys and grief that meet thee, dash aside Like bubbles, and thy bark right onward steer Through calm and tempest, till it cross the tide, Shoot into port in triumph, or serenely glide. HENRY WARE, JR. [Born, 1794. Died, 1843.] HENRY WARE, D. D., a son of HENRY WARE, D. and brother of WILLIAM WARE, D. D., author of "Probus," etc., was born in Hingham, Massachusetts, on the seventh of April, 1794; was graduated at Cambridge in 1812; completed his theological studies in 1815; was ordained minister of the Second Congregational Church, in Boston, in 1817; received RALPH WALDO EMERSON as his colleague, in 1829; for the recovery of his health soon after visited Europe; and on his return, in 1830, resigned his charge and entered upon the office of Professor of Pulpit Eloquence and the Pastoral Care in the Theological School connected with Harvard College, which he held until the summer of 1842, when he gave up his public duties. He died September 22, 1843. Dr. WARE's writings, theological, critical, and miscellaneous, are numerous and valuable. In 1815 he published " A Poem on Occasion of the Peace;" in 1824 "The Vision of Liberty;" in 1837, "The Feast of the Tabernacles," and at various times many shorter pieces, chiefly devotional. TO THE URSA MAJOR. WITH what a stately and majestic step That glorious constellation of the north Treads its eternal circle! going forth Its princely way among the stars in slow And silent brightness. Mighty one, all hail! I joy to see thee on thy glowing path Walk, like some stout and girded giant; stern, Unwearied, resolute, whose toiling foot Disdains to loiter on its destined way. The other tribes forsake their midnight track, And rest their weary orbs beneath thy wave; But thou dost never close thy burning eye, Nor stay thy steadfast step. But on, still on, While systems change, and suns retire, and worlds Slumber and wake, thy ceaseless march proceeds. The near horizon tempts to rest in vain. Thou, faithful sentinel, dost never quit Thy long-appointed watch; but, sleepless still, Dost guard the fix'd light of the universe, And bid the north forever know its place. Ages have witness'd thy devoted trust, Unchanged, unchanging. When the sons of God Sent forth that shout of joy which rang through heaven, And echo'd from the outer spheres that bound Join'd the high chorus: from thy radiant orbs Their haughty honours in the face of heaven, And beauty still are thine; as clear, as bright, I wonder as I gaze. That stream of light, Undimm'd, unquench'd-just as I see it nowHas issued from those dazzling points through years That go back far into eternity. Exhaustless flood! forever spent, renew'd Yet what is this, which to the astonish'd mind Untravell'd even in thought, keen, piercing rays Have travell'd centuries on their flight to earth. And multitude of Gon s most infinite works! Worlds in whose bosoms living things rejoice, Like the mean mote that dances in the beam Tell me, ye splendid orbs! as from your throne Their happiness, their wisdom? Do they bear And sordid Selfishness, and cruel Lust And death unfear'd; while fresh and fadeless youth Everlasting light Has written legibly what man may know, And beauty, by the hand of Power divine SEASONS OF PRAYER. To prayer, to prayer;—for the morning breaks, To prayer;-for the glorious sun is gone, To prayer;--for the day that God has bless'd There are smiles and tears in the mother's eyes, There are smiles and tears in that gathering band, Kneel down by the dying sinner's side, |