ANOTHER day is added to the mass
Of buried ages. Lo! the beauteous moon,
Like a fair shepherdess, now comes abroad,
With her full flock of stars that roam around
The azure mead of heaven. And, oh! how charm'd
Beneath her loveliness, creation looks;
Far-gleaming hills, and light-inweaving streams,
And fragrant boughs with dewy lustre clothed,
And green-hair'd valleys, all in glory dress'd,
Make up the pageantries of Night. One glance
Upon old Ocean, where the woven beams
Have braided her dark waves. Their roar is hush'd!
Her billowy wings are folded up to rest;
Till once again the wizard winds shall yell,
And tear them into strife.
AMBITION fires that genius in the mind,
Which mortals on a throne of magic seat,-
Most heavenly-bright, without a shade of earth,
Her nature a nobility: the great
She magnifies, the mean she can exalt,
Lend Virtue majesty, and Vice a veil,-
The all-adored creation for her charm!
When weary stars grow twinkless, and depart,
Like ghosts that vanish at the dawn of day,-
She wanders forth, and sees the budding morn
To freshen the pale sky, like that young glow
Which o'er the cheek of waking Beauty steals;
And night,-it is the noon of joy to her,
Unutterably glorious !—not a sound
Abroad;
the moon, an isle of loveliness;
The stars, hung beautiful, as all new-born,
And lavish of their lustre; she can dream
Her spirit bathed in some elysian orb,
Deep in the luxury and bloom of Heaven.
All sights and sounds are meanings to her mind;
The seas are mirrors of almightiness,
The storm-winds, spirits ocean-born, that prove
The life and passion of ten thousand waves,
In the rude tempest of their roaring ire ;-
Whate'er is vision'd, she can make her own,
Shaping the world to an enchanted sphere !
NOBLENESS OF FEMALE AFFECTION
UNDER ADVERSITY.
THEN look at woman, when, by love sublimed,
Misfortune moulds her by a graceful power
To fit the cast of fate; and in her woe,
Each mental attribute can bloom as bright
As when the home was costly, and her smile
Fell like a glory on attracted eyes!-
As stoops an eagle from his lordly height,
Where once he soar'd, companion of the cloud
And storm, ‚—so sinks with a triumphant fall
Her spirit down to some domestic vale!
There looks more beauteous in each act and thought,
Through the meek round that cottage virtues run,
Than when it reign'd amid the hall of kings.
THE day is earth, but holy Night is heav'n
To her a solitude of soul is giv'n
Within whose depth, how beautiful to dream,
And fondly be, what others vainly seem !—
Oh! 'tis an hour of consecrated might,
For Earth's Immortals have adored the night;
In song or vision yielding up the soul
To the deep magic of her still control.—
My own lov'd hour! there comes no hour like thee,
No world so glorious as thou form'st for me!
The fretful ocean of eventful day,—
To waveless nothing how it ebbs away!
As oft the chamber, where some haunted page
Renews a poet, or revives a sage
In pensive Athens, or sublimer Rome,
To mental quiet woos the Spirit home.
There stillness reigus, how eloquently deep!
And soundless air, more beautiful than sleep.
Let Winter sway, her dream-like sounds inspire:
The social murmur of a blazing fire;
The hail-drop, hissing as it melts away
In twinkling gleams of momentary play;
Or wave-like swell of some retreated wind,
In dying sadness echo'd o'er the mind,-
But gently ruffle into varied thought
The calm of feeling blissful night has brought.-
How eyes the spirit, with contented gaze,
The chamber mellow'd into social haze,
And smiling walls, where rank'd in solemn rows,
The wizard volumes of the mind repose!
Thus, well may hours like fairy waters glide, Till morning glimmers o'er their reckless tide; While dreams beyond the realm of day to view, Around us hover in seraphic hue;
Till Nature pines for intellectual rest,―
When home awakens, and the heart is blest;
Or, from the window reads our wand'ring eye
The starry language of Chaldean sky;
And gathers in that one vast gaze above,
A bright eternity of awe and love!
So heav'nly seems the visionary night: But, ah! the danger in its deep delight.The mind, then beautified to fond excess, Will all things dare to brighten, or to bless : A world of sense more spiritual is made Than the stern eye of nature hath survey'd ; Some false perfection which hath never been, By fancy woven, lives through ev'ry scene; But morn awakes, and, lo! the spells unwind, As daylight melts like darkness o'er the mind! The worldly coarseness of our common lot Recalls the shadows which the night forgot; Each dream of loftiness then dies away, And heav'n-light withers in the frown of Day !— And then, the languor of each parching vein, And the hot weariness of heart and brain; That hideous shade of something dread to be,--Oh, fatal midnight! these are doom'd for thee. Each breeze comes o'er us with tormenting wing, Each pulse of sound an agony can bring;
As though the glory of neglected Light
Would task our torture to avenge her right!
Let Chatterton thy deathful charm reveal, [steal
And mournful White, who from thy depth would
A placid sense of some unvision'd Power,
Around prevailing at thine earthless hour:
And oft, methinks, in loneliness of heart,
As noons of night in dreaming calm depart,
My room is sadden'd with the mingled gaze
Of those who martyr'd their ambitious days;
The turf-grass o'er their tombs,—I see it wave,
And visions waft me to a kindred grave!
NATIONAL REJOICINGS AFTER A VICTORY.
ENGLAND hath laid her sceptre on the deep,
And with her thunder, chased her ocean-foes
Like leaves before the breathing of a blast!
England hath rear'd her banners on the plain
Of battle, Victory waved them, and the world
Again shall echo with her haughty name.
And hence, a stormy rapture shakes the isle ;
Hence the loud music of her hollow fanes,
Whether in cities emulously tower'd
Among the skies, or in lone hamlets seen,—
Still pouring out the language of the land;
With all those pageantries and fiery pomps
That hang and glitter from her window'd piles,
Emblazed with mottoes, and triumphal scenes.
Not one, to whom the name of country clings With spelling fondness, but this hour adores.
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