And he treads on the whirlwind undaunted and free,

While it tears up the earth and the depths of the sea.

From the triumph he speeds

Through the province that leads

To his palace of rest;

Whence he tranquilly views

His illimited sphere,

Till anon he renews

His rapacious career.

STANZAS.

How faint the light, whose partial rays

Steal through some fissure, when compared

With that diffusive noontide blaze

So bounteously by heaven prepared!

And such the mind, although it teem

With learning in its utmost pride,

When merged into the brilliant stream
That swells the universal tide.

How mean an atom that disports

In wild delirium on the breeze,

Compared with earth whose shade it courts

When winds are hushed in breathless ease!

And such is man, however great

Or dignified his rank appear,

If placed beside the pomp and state

That beautify this ample sphere.

How small a speck is earth again,

Contrasted with that glorious orb,

Whose genial warmth the sons of
And all created life absorb !

men,

And trifling are her children's cares,
Since time awards so brief a stay,

That early blight too often tears

The sweetest living germ away.

And then how little is that sun,

If man will only rise above The limit of its range to One

Eternal Source of light and love!

And time is but a moment's space

In that unscrutable career

Of bliss or pain, whose deathless race Is imaged on the mournful bier.

TELL ME NOT.

TELL me not that Love, inditing

Promises in sparkling eyes,

Sheds a lustre so inviting

As to captivate the wise.

Gently o'er the bosom stealing,
Like the softened evening rays,

Love betrays the purest feeling
In the faintly blushing gaze.

Then the glowing, chaste emotion
Lingers in the pensive eye,

And the soul in sweet devotion

Breathes a timid, hopeful sigh.

Give me this auspicious blending
Of the only charms I seek,

And the pledge to heaven ascending

Cannot more divinely speak.

THE WIND.

WHAT is the wind, and whence its source,
And whither does it then proceed;

What modifies its rampant course,
Or checks its speed?

Now slumbering in unseen repose,

The earth and sky in mutual mirth

Rejoice, as when in newness rose

The world to birth.

A whisper runs from hill to vale,

Or breathes its utterance in a sigh, That omens of a threatening gale

Bespeak it nigh.