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601. THE EFFECTS OF GENTLENES S. 602. PRESS On. This is a speech, brief, Gentleness—is the great avenue to mutual but full of inspiration, and opening the way enjoyment. Amidst the strife of interfering to all victory. The mystery of Napoleon's interests, it tempers the violence of conten- career was this,--under all difficulties and tion, and keeps alive the seeds of harmony. discouragements, “PRESS ON !" It solves the It softens animosities, renews endearments, problem of all heroes; it is the rule, by which and renders the countenance of man, a re- to weigh rightly, all wonderful successes, and freshment to man. Banish gentleness from triumphal marches—to fortune and genius. the earth; suppose the world to be filled, It should be the motto of all, old--and young, with none but harsh and contentious spirits, high-and low, fortunate—and unfortunate, and what sort of society would remain the so called. solitude of the desert were preferable to it. “PRESS ON !” Never despair; never be disThe conflict of jarring elements in chaos, couraged, however stormy the heavens, howthe cave where subterraneous winds contend ever dark the way; however great the diffiand roar, the den where serpents hiss and culties, and repeated the failures,—"PRESS beasts of the forest howl, would be the only on!" "If fortune-has played false with thee proper representation of such assemblies of to-day, do thou play true for thyself to-mormen. Strange! that, where men have all one row. If thy riches have taken wings, and common interest, they should so often concur left thee, do not weep thy life away; but be in defeating it. Has not nature already pro- up and doing, and retrieve the loss, by new vided a sufficient quantity of evils for the energies and action. If an unfortunate bar. state of man? As if we did not suffer enough gain-has deranged thy business, do not fold from the storm which beats upon us without, thy arms, and give up all as lost; but stir must we conspire also, in those societies thyself, and work the more vigorously, where we assemble, in order to find a retreat İf those whom thou hast trusted, have befrom that storm, to harass one another? trayed thee, do not be discouraged, do not A NIGHT SCENE IN TURKEY

idly weep, but“ PRESS ON !" find others; or,

what is better, learn to live within thyself. 'Twas midnight: on the mountains brown

Let the foolishness of yesterday-make thee The cold round moon-shone brightly down ; wise to-day. If thy affections_have been Blue rolled the ocean, blue the sky

poured out like water in the desert, do not sit Spread, like an ocean, hung on high, down and perish of thirst,—but press on; a Bespangled with those isles of lighi,

beautiful oasis is before thee, and thou mayst So wildly, spiritually bright;

reach it, if thou wilt. If another-has been Who ever gazed upon them, shining,

false to thee, do not thou increase the evil-by

being falsc to thyself. Do not say—the world And turned to earth, without repining,

hath lost its poetry and beauty; 'tis not so; Nor wished for wings to fly away,

and even if it be so, make thine own poetry And mix-with their eternal ray ?

and beauty, by a brave, a true, and, abov The waves, on either shore, lay there, all, a religious life. Calm, clear, and azure as the air,

ASPIRATIONS OF YOUTH. And scarce their foam-the pebbles shook,

Higher, higher, will we climb, But murmured meekly, as the brook.

Up-The mount of glory, The winds—were pillowed on the waves,

That our names—may live through time, The banners drooped along their staves,

In our country's story; And as they fell around them, furling,

Happy, when her welfare calls,
Above them—shone the crecent curling;

He, who conquers,-he, who falls.
And that deep silence was unbroke,
Save when the watch-his signal spoke,

Deeper, deeper-let us toil,

In the mines of knowledge ; Save when the steed-neighed oft and shrill,

Nature's wealth—and Learning's spoi! And echo answered-from the hill,

Win from school--and college ; And the wide hum-of that wild host

Delve we there--for richer gems,
Rustled, like leaves, from coast to coast,

Than the stars of diadems.
As rose the Muezzin's voice in air,
In midnight call-to wonted prayer.

Onward, onward-may we pass,
It rose, that chaunted, mournful strain,

Through the path of duty ; Like some lone spirit's—o'er the plain;

Virtue—is true happiness, 'Twas musical, but sadly sweet,

Excellence, true beauty ; Such as, when winds, and harp-strings meet;

Minds--are of celestial birth: And take a long, unmeasured tone,

Make we, then, a heaven of earth. To mortal minstrelsy, unknown:

Closer, closer--let us knit It seemed to those, within the wall,

Hearts, and hands together, A cry-prophetic of their fall;

Where our fireside comforts sit, It struck-even the besieger's ear,

In the wildest weather; With something omnious, and drear,

O, they wander wide, who roam An undefined, and sudden thrill,

For the joys of life, from home. Which makes the heart-a moment still ;

Nearer, dearer bands of love, Then beat, with quicker pulse, ashamed

Draw our souls in union, Of that strange sense-its silence framed;

To our Father's house above, Such as a sudden passing bell

To the saints' communion :
Wakes, though but for a stranger's knell.

Thither-ev'ry hope ascend,
Know thyself,

There

may all our labors end.

603 HANNIBAL TO HIS SOLDIERS. On The vulture—flapped his sail-like wings, though heavily he flew; what side soever I turn my eyes, I behold all A mote, upon the sun's broad face, he seemed urto my view; full of courage and strength; å veteran infant- But once, I thought I saw him stoop, as if he would alight,ry, a most gallant cavalry; you, my allies, 'Twas only a delusive thought, for all had vanished quite. most faithful and valiant; yon, Carthaginians, All search was vain, and years had passed ; that child was ne'er whom not only your country's cause, but the when once a daring hunter climbed unto a lofty spot, I forgot, justest anger, impels to battle. The hope, the From thence, upon a rugged crag—the chamois never reached, courage of assailants, is always greater than He saw-an infant's fleshless bones—the elements had bleached ! of those, who act upon the defensive. With 1 clambered up that rugged clif,–I could not stay away,– hostile banners displayed, you are come down I knew they were my infant's bones_thus hastening to decay: upon Italy; you bring the war. Grief, inju- A tattered garment—yet remained, though torn to many a shred: ries, indignities, fire your minds, and spur The crimson cap—he wore that morn—was still upon his head." you forward to revenge.

That dreary spot—is pointed out to travelers, passing by, First, they demand me—that I, your gener. Who often stand, and musing, gaze, nor go without a sigh; al, should be delivered up to them; next, all And as I journeyed, the next morn, along my sunny way, of you,

who had fought at the siege of Sagun- The precipice was shown to me, whereon the infant lay.Anoma tum; and we were to be put to death-by the

605. THE HERMIT. extremest tortures. Proud, and cruel nation!

At the close of the day, when the hamlet is still, every thing must be yours, and at your dis And mortals the sweets of forgetfulness prove; posal! You are to prescribe to us, with whom When nought, but the torrent, is heard on the hill, we shall make war, with whom we shall make And nought, but the nightingale's song, in the grove. peace! You are to set us bounds; to shut us 'Twas thus, by the cave of the mountain afar, up within hills and rivers; but you—you are While his harp rung symphonious, a hermit began; not to observe the limits, which yourselves No more with himself, or with nature at war, have fixed.

He thought as a sage, tho' he felt as a man. Pass not the Iberus! What next? Touch

"Ah! why, all abandon'd to darkness and wo; not the Saguntines; is Saguntum upon the Why, lone Philomela, that languishing fall? Iberus? move not a step towards that city. Is For spring shall return, and a lover bestow, it a small matter, then, that you have deprived And sorrow no longer thy bosom inthral. us of our ancient possessions, Sicily and Sar But, if pity inspire thee, renew the sad lay, dinia? you would have Spain, too? Well, Mourn, sweetest complainer, man calls thee to mouru; we shall yield Spain; and then-you will

O soothe him, whose pleasures, like thine, pass away: pass into Africa! Will pass, did I say? this

Full quickly they pass--but they never return. very year, they ordered one of their consuls “Now gliding remote, on the verge of the sky, into Africa, the other into Spain.

The moon, half extinguish’d, her crescent displays :
No, soldiers, there is nothing left for us, but But lately I mark'd, when, majestic on high,
what we can vindicate with our swords. She shone, and the planets were lost, in her blaze.
Come on, then-be men, The Romans-may

Roll on, thou fair orb, and, with gladness, pursue with more safety be cowards; they have their

The path, that conducts thee to splendor again : own country behind them; have places of

But man's faded glory, what change shall renew!

Ah fool! to exult in a glory so vain! refuge to flee to, and are secure from danger in the roads thíther; but for you, there is no “'Tis night, and the landscape is lovely no more: middle fortune between death, and victory. I mourn; but, ye woodlands, I mourn not for you; Let this be but well fixed in your minds, and

For morn is approaching, your charms to restore,

Perfuni'd with fresh fragrance, and glitt'ring with dew: once again, I say, you are conquerors.--Livy.

Nor yet for the ravage of winter I mourn; 604. VULTURE AND CAPTIVE INFANT.

Kind nature the embryo blossom will save: I've been among the mighty Alps, and wandered thro' their vales, But when shall spring visit the mouldering urn! And heard the honest mountaineers—relate their dismal tales,

0, when shall day dawn, on the night of the grave! As round the cotters' blazing hearth, when their daily work was o'er, 4'Twas thus, by the glare of false science betray'd, They spake of those, who disappeared, and ne'er were heard of

That leads, to bewilder; and dazzles, to blind; more.

My thoughts wont to roam, from shade opward to shade, And there, I, from a shepherd, heard a narrative of fear,

Destruction before me, and sorrow behind. A tale—to rend a mortal heart, which mothers-might not hear : O pity, great Father of light, then I cried, The tears—were standing in his eyes, his voice--was tremulous; Thy creature, who fain would not wander fmm thee! But, wiping all those tears away, he told his story thus:

Lo, humbled in dust, I relinquish my pride:

From doubt, and from darkness thou only, canst free. “ It is among these barren cliffs—the ravenous vulture dwells, Who never fattens on the prey, which from afar he smells;

"And darkness and doubt are now flying away: But, patient, watching hour on hour, upon a lofty rock,

No longer I roam in conjecture forlorn: He singles out some truant lamb, a victim, from the flock.

So breaks on the traveler, faint and astray,

The bright, and the balmy effulgence of morn. One cloudless Sabbath summer morn, the sun was rising high,

See truth, love, and mercy, in triumph descending, When, from my children on the green, I heard a fearful cry,

And nature all glowing in Eden's first bloom ! As if some awful deed were done, a shriek of grief, and pain,

On the cold cheek of death smiles, and roses are blending, A cry, I humbly trust in God, I ne'er may hear again.

And beauty immortal awakes from the tomb.- Beattie. I hurried out to learn the cause; but, overwhelmed with fright, The children never ceased to shriek; and, from my frenzied sight,

O what a vision were the stars,
I missed the youngest of my babes, the darling of my care;

When first I saw them burn on high,
But something caught my searching eyes, slow sailing thro' the air. Rolling along, like living cars
Oh what an aroful spectacle-to meet a father's eye,-

Of light,--for gods to journey by.
His infant-mad vul ure's prey, with terror to descry;

The world--is full of poetry--the air And know, with agonizing heart, and with a maniac rave,

Is living with its spirit; the wavesThat earthly power-could not avail—that innocent to save!

Dance--to the music of its melodies,
My infant-stretched his little hands-imploringly to me,

And sparkle-in its brightness.
And struggled with the ravenous bird, all vainly to get free:
At intervals, I heard his cries, as loud he shrieked, and screa med!

In struggling with misfortunes,
Until, upon the azure sky, a lessening spot he seemeda

Lies the true proof- of virtue.

606. THE CHARACTER OF WOMAN. The

INDIAN NAMES. influence of the female character--is now “How can the red men be forgotten, while so may of our states felt, and acknowledged, in all the relations of and territories, bays, lakes, and rivers, are indelibly stamped by

names of their giving ?” life. I speak not now, of those distinguished women, who instruct their age through the

Ye say—they all have pass'd away, public press. Nor of those, whose devout That noble race-and brave; strains we take upon our lips, when we wor That their light canoes-have vanish'd ship. But of a much larger class; of those, From off the crested wave; whose influence is felt in the relations of

That, 'mid the forests—where they roamid, neighbor, friend, daughter, wife, mother. Who waits at the couch of the sick, to ad

There rings no hunter's shout;

But their name-is on your waters, minister tender charities, while life lingers, or to perform the last acts of kindness, when Ye may not wash it out. death comes? Where shall we look for those 'Tis where Ontario's billow"xamples of friendship, that most adorn our

Like ocean's surge-is curl'd; mature; those abiding friendships, which

Where strong Niagara's thunders-wake trust, even when betrayed, and survive all

The echo of the world ; changes of fortune? Where shall we find the brightest illustration of filial piety ? Have

Where red Missouri--bringeth you ever seen a daughter, herself, perhaps,

Rich tribute from the west; timid and helpless, watching the decline of an And Rappa hannock-sweetly sleeps aged parent, and holding out, with heroic for

On green Virginia's breast. titude, to anticipate his wishes, to administer to his wants, and to sustain his tottering steps

Ye say—their conelike cabins, to the very borders of the grave?

That cluster'd o'er the vale, But in no relation-coes woman exercise Have disappear'd, as wither'd leavesso deep an influence, both immediately, and Before the autumn's gale; prospectively, as in that of mother. To her is But their memory--liveth on your hills, committed the immortal treasure of the infant

Their baptism-on your shore ; mind. Upon her-devolves the care of the first stages of that course of discipline,

Your everlasting rivers-speak

Their dialect of yore. which is to form a being, perhaps the most frail and helpless in the world, the fearless Old Massachusetts-wears itruler of animated creation, and the devout Within her lordly crown; adorer of his great Creator.

And broad Ohio-bears itHer smiles call into exercise the first affec

Amid his young renown: tions, that spring up in our hearts. She cherishes, and expands—the earliest germs of our

Connecticut-hath wreath'd itintellects. She breathes over us her deepest

Where her quiet foliage waves, devotions. She lifts our little hands, and And bold Kentucky-breathes it hoarseteaches our little tongues to lisp in prayer. Through all her ancient caves. She watches over us, like a guardian angel,

Wachusett-hides ils lingering voiceand protects us through all our helpless years, when we know not of her cares, and her

Within his rocky heart, anxieties, on our account. She follows us And Alleghany--graves its toneinto the world of men, and lives in us, and Throughout his lofty chart. blesses us, when she lives not otherwise upon Monadnock, on his forehead hoar, the earth.

Doth seal the sacred trust; What constitutes the centre of every home?

Your mountains-build their monument, Whither do our thoughts turn, when our feet are weary with wandering, and our hearts

Though ye destroy their dust. sick with disappointments? Where shall the IMPROVEMENT OF MIND WITHOUT DIstruant and forgetful husband go—for sympa- PLAY. Well-informed persons will easily be thy, unalloyed, and without design, but to the discovered, to have read the best books, tho' bosom of her who is ever ready, and waiting they are not always detailing lists of authors: to share in his adversity, or prosperity ? And for a muster-roll of names--may be learned if there be a tribunal, where the sins and from the catalogue, as well as from the library. the follies of a froward child-may hope for The honey--owes its exquisite taste-- to the pardon and forgiveness, this side heaven, that fragrance of the sweetest flowers; yet the tribunal is the heart of a fond, and devoted skill of the little artificer, appears in this, that mother.

the delicious stores are so adinirably worked Finally, her influence is felt, deeply, in reli- up, and there is such a due proportion obgion. "If christianity, should be compelled served in mixing them, that the perfection of to flee from the mansions of the great, the the whole--consists in its not tasting, indiacademies of philosophers, the halls of legis- vidually, of the rose, the jassamine, the carnalators, or the throng of busy men, we should tion, or any of those sweets, of the very esfind her last, and purest retreat-with woman sence of all which it is compounded. But at the fireside ; her last altar—would be the true judgment will discover the infusion, female heart; her last audience — would which true modesty will not display; and be the children gathered round the knees of even common subjects, passing through a the mother; her last sacrifice, the secret cultivated understanding, borrow a flavor of prayer, escaping in silence from her lips, and its richness. heard, perhaps, only at the throne of God.”

What stronger breastplate than a heart untainta? How empty, learning, and how rain is art; Thrice is he armed, who hath his quarrel just; Save where it guides the life, and mends the heart. And he, but naked, tho' locked in steel, Fancy and pride reach things at vast expense. Whose conscience, with injustice is corrupted.

607. ODE ON THE PASSIONS.

The oak-crown'd sisters, and their chaste eyed When Music, heavenly maid, was young,

Satyrs, and sylvan boys, were seen, (queen, While yet, in early Greece, she sung,

Peeping from forth their alleys green; The Passions oft, to hear her shell,

Brown Exercise rejoiced to hear; Throng'd-around her magic cell;

And Sport leap'd up, and seiz'd his beechen spear. Exulting, trembling, raging, fainting,

Last, came Joy's ecstatic trial. Possess'd beyond the Muse's painting.

He, with viny crown advancing, By turns, they felt the glowing mind

First to the lively pipe his hand address'd ;, Disturbid, delighted, raised, refined:

But soon, he saw ihe brisk awakening viol, Till once, 'tis said, when all were fired, Whose sweet, entrancing voice he lovid the best. Fill'd with fury, rapt, inspired,

They would have thought, who heard the strain, From the supporting myrtles round,

They saw, in Tempe's vale, her native maids, They snatch'd her instruments of sound;

Amid the festal-sounding shades, And, as they oft had heard apart,

To some unwearied minstrel dancing; Sweet lessons of her forceful art,

While, as his flying fingers kiss'd the strings, Each-for Madness ruled the hour

Love, fram'd with Mirth, a gay fantastic roundWould prove his own expressive power. Loose were her tresses seen, her zone unbound; First, Fear, his hand, its skill to try,

And he, amid his frolic play,

As if he would the charming air repay, Amid the chords, bewilder'd laid;

Shook thousand odors—from his dewy wings And back recoil'd, he knew not why, Even at the sound himself had made.

608. THE CHESTNUT HORSE.

An Eaton stripling, training for the law, Next, Anger rushid, his eyes on fire,

A dunce at syntax, but a dab at taw,
In lightnings, own’d his secret stings:

One happy Christmas, laid upon the shelf
In one rude clash he struck the lyre,
And swept, with hurried hands, the strings.

His cap and gown, and stores of learned pell,

With all the deathless bards of Greece and Rome, With woful measures, wan Despair

To spend a fortnight at his uncle's home. Low, sullen sounds! his grief beguiled;

Return'd, and past the usual how-d'ye-does, A solemn, strange, and mingled air;

Inquiries of old friends, and college news: 'Twas sad, by fits--by starts, 'twas wild. “Well, Tom, the road; what saw you worth discerning? But thou, O Hope; with eyes so fair,

How 's all at college, Tom ?—what is 't you 're learning po What was thy delighted measure!

“Learning -0, logic, logic !-- not the shallow rules Still it whisper'd-promised pleasure,

Of Locke and Bacon- antiquated fools !

But wits' and wranglers' logic; for d' ye see,
And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail.
Still would her touch the strain prolong;

I'll prove as clear, -as clear as A. B. C.,
And from the rocks, the woods, the vale,

That an eel pie's a pigeon; to deny it, She call'd on Echo still, through all her song.

Is to say black 's not black.”— And, where her sweetest theme she chose,

“Come, let's try it! A soft, responsive voice was heard at every close;

“Well, sir; an eel pie is a pie of fish.”

" Agreed." And Hope, enchanted, smiled and wav'd her gold “Fish pie may be a jack pie.”_"Well, well, proceed." en hair.

"A jack pie is a John pie—and, 'tis done!

For every John pie must be a pie-John.”—(pigeon.) And longer had she sung-but, with a frown,

“Bravo! bravo !" Sir Peter cries; “ logic forever! Revenge-impatient rose,

[down;

That beats my grandmother, and she was clever ;
He threw his blood-stained sword in thunder

But now I think on ', 't would be mighty hard
And, with a withering look,

If merit such as thine met no reward;
The war-denouncing trumpet took,

To show how much I logic love in course,
And blew a blast, so loud and dread,

I'll make thee master of a chestnut horse."
Were ne'er prophetic sounds so full of woe;
And, ever and anon, he beat

" A horse !" quoth Tom, "blood, pedigree, and paces ! 'The doubling drum with furious heat. [tween,

0, what a dash I'll cut at Epsom races!!! And though, sometimes, each dreary pause be

Tom dreamt all night of boots and leather breeches,
Dejected Pity, at his side,

Of hunting-caps, and leaping rails and ditches;
Her soul-subduing voice applied,

Rose the next morn an hour before the lark,
Yet still, he kept his wild unalter'd mien;

And dragg'd his uncle, fasting, to the park; While each straind ball of sight seem'd bursting Bridle in hand, each vale he scours of course, from his head.

To find out something like a chestnut horse; Thy numbers, Jealousy, to nought were fix'd;

But no such animal the meadows cropt,

Till under a large tree Sir Peter stopt,
Sad proof of thy distressful sate!
Of differing themes the veering song was mix'd :

Caught at a branch, and shook it, when down fell
And, now, it courted Love; now, raving, callid

A fine horse chestnut, in its prickly shell. on Hate.

“There, Tom, take that.”—“Well, sir, and what beside pe With eyes upraised, as one inspired,

“ Why, since you 're booted, saddle it and ride.”

"Ride! what, a chestnut, sir ?”—“Of course,
Pale Melancholy sat, retired;
And, from her wild sequester'd seat,

For I can prove that chestnut is a horse;
In notes, by distance, made more sweet,

Not from the doubtful, fusty, musty rules
Pour'd thro' the mellow horn her pensive soul :

Of Locke and Bacon, antiquated fools, And, dashing soft, from rocks around,

Nor old Malebranch, blind pilot into knowledge, Bubbling runnels joined the sound. (stole;

But by the laws of wit and Eton college; Thro' glades and glooms, the mingled measure

As you have prov'd, and which I don't deny,
Oro'er some haunted streams, with fond delay,

That a pie John's the same as a John pie,
Round-a holy calm diffusing,

The matter follows, as a thing of course,
Love of peace, and lonely musing-

That a horse-chestnut is a chestnut horse.”
In hollow murmurs-died away.

Know, Nature's children all divide her care ;
But, oh, how alter'd was its sprightlier tone! The fur, that warms a monarch, warm'd a bear.
When Cheerfulness, a nymph of healthiest hue, While man exclaims, “ See all things for my use!"

Her bow across her shoulders flung,
Her buskins gemm'd with morning dew, (rung;

“See man for mine!” replies the pamper'd goose: Blew an inspiring air, that dale and thicket And just as short of reason-he must fall, The hunter's call, to Faun and Dryad known! Who thinks all made for one, not one-for all.

RY.

609, NATIONAL UNIon. Do not, gentle

MY COUNTRY. men, suffer the rage of passion to drive rea I love my country's pine-clad hills, son from her seat. If this law be indeed bad,

Her thousand bright, and gushing rills, let us join to remedy its defects. Has it been

Her sunshine, and her storms; passed in a manner which wounded your

Her rough and rugged rocks, that rear pride, or roused your resentment? Have, I conjure you, the magnanimity to pardon that

Their hoary heads, high in the air offence. I entreat, I implore you, to sacri

In wild fantastic forms. fice those angry passions to the interests of I love her rivers, deep and wide, our country. Pour out this pride of opinion.

Those mighty streams, that seaward glide, on the altar of patriotism. Let it be an ex

To seek the ocean's breast; piatory libation for the weal of America. Do not suffer that pride to plunge us all into the

Her smiling fields, her pleasant vales, abyss of ruin. Indeed, indeed, it will be but

Her shady dells, her flow'ry dales, of little, very little avail, whether one opin The haunts of peaceful rest. ion or the other be right or wrong; it will

I love her forests, dark and lone, heal no wounds, it will pay no debts, it will

For there-the wild birds' merry tone, rebuild no ravaged towns. Do not rely on that popular will, which has brought us frail

I heard from morn-till night; beings into political existence. That opin And there-are lovlier flowers I ween, ion is but a changeable thing. It will soon Than e'er in eastern lands were seen, change. This very measure will change it. In varied colors bright. You will be deceived. Do not, I beseech you, in reliance on a foundation so frail, commit

Her forests—and her valleys fair, the dignity, the harmony, the existence of

Her flowers, that scent the morning air, our nation to the wild wind. Trust not your

Have all their charms for me ; treasure to the waves. Throw not your com But more-I love my country's name, pass and your charts into the ocean. Do not Those words, that echo deathless fame, believe that its billows will waft you into “ The land of LIBERTY.”—Anon. port. Indeed, indeed, you will be deceived.

610. SUBLIMITY OF MOUNTAIN SCENE. Cast not away this only anchor of our safety.

Of all the sights, that nature offers tu I have seen its progress. I know the difficulties through which it was obtained. I

the eye, and mind of man, mountains-have

always stirred my strongest feelings. I have stand in the presence of Almighty God and of the world. I declare to you, that if you the bottom by tempest, and noon—was like

seen the ocean, when it was turned up from lose this charter, never, no never, will you night, with the conflict of the billows, and get another. We are now perhaps arrived at the storm, that tore, and scattered them, in the parting point. Here, even here, we stand mist and foam, across the sky. I have seen on the brink of fate. Pause, then-pause. the desert rise around me, and calmly, in the For Heaven's sake, pause.-Morris.

midst of thousands, uttering cries of horror, ATHEIST AND ACORN.

and paralysed by fear, have contemplated the “Methinks the world—seems oddly made, sandy pillars, coming like the advance of And every thing-amiss ;">

some gigantic city of conflagration-flying A dull, complaining atheist said,

across the wilderness, every column glowing As stretched he lay-beneath the shade,

with intense fire, and every blast-death; the And instanced it in this:

sky-vaulted with gloom, the earth-a 'fur.

nace. But with me, the mountain, in tempest, “Behold,” quoth he, “that mighty thing, or in calm, the throne of the thunder, or with A pumpkin, large, and round,

the evening sun, painting its dells and declivIs held—but by a little string,

ities in colors dipped in heaven-has been Which upwards cannot make it spring,

the source of the most absorbing sensations. Nor bear it from the ground.

There stands magnitude, giving the instant

impression of a power above man-grandWhile on this oak-an acorn small,

eur, that defies decay-antiquity, that tells So disproportioned grows,

of ages unnumbered—beauty, that the touch That whosoe'er surveys this all,

of time makes only more beautiful--use, exThis universal casual ball,

haustless for the service of man-strength Its ill contrivance knows.

imperishable as the globe; the monument of

eternity,--the truest earthly emblem of that My better judgment--would have hung ever-living, unchangeable, irresistible MajesThe pumpkin on the tree,

ty, by whom and for whom, all things were And left the acorn-slightly strung,

made !-Croly. 'Mongst things that on the surface sprung, The time shall come, the fated hour is nigh, And weak and feeble be.”

When guiltless blood-shall penetrate the sky No more-the caviler could say,

Amid these horrors, and involving night,
No further faults descry;

Prophetic visions flash before my sight;
For, upwards gazing, as he lay,

Eternal justice wakes, and, in their turn, An acorn, loosened from its spray,

The vanquished-triumph, and the victors mourn! Fell down

upon

his
eye.

A hungry lean-faced villain, The wounded part-with tears ran o'er,

A mere anatomy, a mountebank,
As punished for that sin;

A thread-bare juggler, and a fortune-teller; Fool! had that bough-a pumpkin bore,

A needy, hollou -eyed, sharp-looking wretch, Thy whimseys-would have worked no more,

A living-dead man.
Nor skull-have kept them in.

False pleasure-from abroad her joys imparts.

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