On each unrifled bough is heard
The lay of some melodious bird,
And young-wing'd breezes as they float
From brook and meadow learn a note;
And streams like tides of gladness flow
And in the air there dwells a glow
Of elemental youth and joy,
Unchill'd by one corrupt alloy.—
How dazzlingly with rosy dyes
The fairies of the field arise!
And flutter on their insect wings,
As each a song of matin sings;
And where around the glitt'ring blade
A liquid web of dew is laid,
As early peasant's footsteps pass,-
How greenly shines the shaken grass!
While many a lark from off the ground
Is startled, like a magic sound
That ere the sense be half aware
Is kindled by the harp of air!
And list! from out yon village dell, Upon the breeze, in broken swell, The goings-on of life begin To charm the ear of social din. The creak of hill-ascending wain, The shout of some exulting swain, The watch-dog baying far behind, The mill-sounds hoarse upon the wind, With voices from the child of crone,Are all in gay confusion thrown!
And travel on the morning breeze
With notes whose human echoes please.
From the thatch'd chimney now have broke The tinted wreaths of cottage smoke.Ascending delicately bright,
And braided by a golden light,
Like air-wing'd hopes they glide away,
Commingling with the boundless day!
And see, amid the straw-roof'd throng
Of homes that to yon dale belong,
As dwelt the patriarch on the plain,
Surrounded by his pastoral train,—
A mansion smiles; whose neater state,
Though unallied to proud or great,
A central grace around it throws,
And o'er each cot a charm bestows.
Embower'd in laurels, green and calm,—
To view it yields the eye a balm!
But, when at eve its garden hath
A lustre on each lilied path;
When bough, and branch, and grape-hung vine, rays of pensive beauty shine,
While gladsome bee, and quiring bird,
And leafy song, are faintly heard,—
More lovely than a dream-built dome
Appears that hush'd and heavenly home!
There often hath the worldling cast
A longing eye, ere on he pass'd,
And while it wander'd o'er the scene,
Mused-Oh! that such my own had been!
DIVINE Repentance, in thy sacred tear
Alone is wisdom for the erring heart.
That infancy of soul, that stainless hour
When all the chaos of our spirit sleeps
In passionless repose,-how oft it woos
Our feelings back to purity and Heaven !
Alas! that in our solitude we soar
To perfect goodness, but in life descend
To dust again!-our aspirations quench'd,
And all that purer moments wisely taught,
Denied, degraded, or forgot!-Thus glide
Our years along, in melancholy dreams
Of what they dare, and what they cannot be!
RATIONAL PURSUIT OF FAME COM-
MENDED.
THOU young aspirer! dar'st thou dream of fame,
And hope another Age will read thy name?—
The hidden strings of each voiceless pride,
The pangs unutter'd, by the soul supplied,
The ghastly dimness of dejected hope,
By dreams assail'd with which no pride can cope;
Those nameless thoughts of venom'd fierceness sent
From the dark heavings of our discontent;
And, dreader still,-the clouds of daily life
That welter round us in disease or strife,
And the cold atmosphere of worldly sway
Where life is self, and self the life of day,-
In mingled pow'r will oft thy soul appal;
Too well I picture, for I felt them all!
Yet bear thou on !—and when some breathing page Of godlike poet or divinest sage;
When fire-like energies of soul begin
To thrill the passion that is born within,—
Then let thy Spirit in her pow'r arise,
And dare to speak the language of the skies!
Her voice may fail, in deathlike muteness lost,
Her hopes be visions, and those visions cross'd;
But, pure and noble if thy song began,
And pour'd high meaning in the heart of man,
Not echoless perchance a note hath been
In some lone heart, or unimagin'd scene.-
How many a breeze that wings a noiseless way,
How many a streamlet unbeheld by day,
How many a sunbeam lights a lonely flow'r,
Yet works unseen in its creative pow'r!—
Then highly soar, whene'er thy spirit feels
The vivid light impassion'd thought reveals;
Unchill'd by scorn, undarken'd by despair,—
So martyrs liv'd, and such the mighty were!
SATAN'S ADDRESS TO THE ALMIGHTY.
THOU dread Avenger! ever-living One!
Lone Arbiter! Eternal, Vast, and True;
The soul and centre of created things
In atoms or in worlds; around whose throne
Eternity is wheel'd; who look'st-and life
Appears; who frown'st-and life hath pass'd away!
Thou God!-I feel Thine everlasting Curse,
Yet wither not; the lightnings of Thy wrath
Burn in my spirit, yet it shall endure
that which cannot be extinct.
Thou sole Transcendency, and deep Abyss From whence the universe of life was drawn! Unutter'd is Thy nature; to Thyself
Alone the proved, and comprehended God; Though once the steep of Thine Almightiness This haught, unbowing spirit would have climb'd, And sat beside thee, God with God enthroned,— And vanquish'd, fell-Thy Might I'll not disclaim. Immutable! Omnipotence is Thine;
Perfections, Powers, and Attributes unnamed Attend Thee; Thou art All, and oh, how great That consummation! Worlds to listening worlds Repeat it, angels and archangels veil
Their wings, and shine more glorious at the sound:
Thus, Infinite and fathomless, Thou wert,
And art, and wilt be. In Thine awful blaze
Of majesty, amid empyreal pomp
Of Sanctities, chief Hierarch, I stood
Before Thy throne terrifically bright,
And heard the hymning thunders voice thy name, While bow'd the Heavens, and echoed Deity!
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