VOLUME III.

JUNE TO NOVEMBER, 1851.

NEW YORK:

HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS,

NOS. 329 AND 331 PEARL STREET,

(FRANKLIN SQUARE.)

1852.

ADVERTISEMENT.

This Number closes the Third Volume of HARPER'S NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. In closing the Second Volume the Publishers referred to the distinguished success which had attended its establishment, as an incentive to further efforts to make it worthy the immense patronage it had received:--they refer with confidence to the Contents of the present Volume, for proof that their promise has been abundantly fulfilled.

The Magazine has reached its present enormous circulation, simply because it gives _a greater amount of reading matter, of a higher quality, in better style, and at a cheaper price_ than any other periodical ever published. Knowing this to be the fact, the Publishers have spared, and will hereafter spare, no labor or expense which will increase the value and interest of the Magazine in all these respects. The outlay upon the present volume has been from five to ten thousand dollars more than that upon either of its predecessors. The best talent of the country has been engaged in writing and illustrating original articles for its pages:--its selections have been made from a wider field and with increased care; its typographical appearance has been rendered still more elegant; and several new departments have been added to its original plan.

The Magazine now contains, regularly:

_First._ One or more original articles upon some topic of historical or national interest, written by some able and popular writer, and illustrated by from fifteen to thirty wood engravings, executed in the highest style of art.

_Second._ Copious selections from the current periodical literature of the day, with tales of the most distinguished authors, such as DICKENS, BULWER, LEVER, and others--chosen always for their literary merit, popular interest, and general utility.

_Third._ A Monthly Record of the events of the day, foreign and domestic, prepared with care and with the most perfect freedom from prejudice and partiality of every kind.

_Fourth._ Critical Notices of the Books of the Day, written with ability, candor, and spirit, and designed to give the public a clear and reliable estimate of the important works constantly issuing from the press.

_Fifth._ A Monthly Summary of European Intelligence, concerning books, authors, and whatever else has interest and importance for the cultivated reader.

_Sixth._ An Editor's Table, in which some of the leading topics of the day will be discussed with ability and independence.

_Seventh._ An Editor's Easy Chair or Drawer, which will be devoted to literary and general gossip, memoranda of the topics talked about in social circles, graphic sketches of the most interesting minor matters of the day, anecdotes of literary men, sentences of interest from papers not worth reprinting at length, and generally an agreeable and entertaining collection of literary miscellany.

The object of the Publishers is to combine the greatest possible VARIETY and INTEREST, with the greatest possible UTILITY. Special care will always be exercised in admitting nothing into the Magazine in the slightest degree offensive to the most sensitive delicacy; and there will be a steady aim to exert a healthy moral and intellectual influence, by the most attractive means.

For the very liberal patronage the Magazine has already received, and especially for the universally flattering commendations of the Press, the Publishers desire to express their cordial thanks, and to renew their assurances, that no effort shall be spared to render the work still more acceptable and useful, and still more worthy of the encouragement it has received.

CONTENTS OF VOLUME III.

Adventure with a Grizzly Bear 101 Ally Somers 610 American Notabilities 834 Anecdotes of Curran 108 Anecdotes of Paganini 39 Application of Electro-Magnetism to Railway Transit 786 Autobiography of a Sensitive Spirit 479 Bear-Steak 484 Blind Lovers of Chamouny 68 Bookworms 628 Bored Wells in Mississippi 539 Breton Wedding 87 Brush with a Bison 218 Captain's Self-Devotion 689 Chapter on Giraffes 202 Coffee-Planting in Ceylon 82 Conversation in a Stage Coach 105 Cricket 718 Convict's Tale 209 Daughter of Blood 74 Deserted House 241 Eagle and Swan 691 Eclipse in July, 1851 239

EDITOR'S DRAWER.

Preliminary; Word-painting; Grandiloquence; Memories of Childhood; Good-nature, 282. Englishman's independence; Parodies; Done twice; Punctuation; Epitaph; Personification, 284. Small courtesies; Home California; Grumblers; Rachel Baker, 421. Take physic, doctor; Moralizing; Curiosity, 422. Sabbath morning; Pictures of Napoleon; Libraries; Booing; Childlike temper; Pretty spry, 423. The sea; Old Eben; Harvest time; Long Island ghosts, 571. Alleged lunatic; Musical elephant, 572. The Bible; New use of a note of hand; The Ship of Death; Taste in tombstones; Tennyson's Word-painting, 573. Western eloquence; John Bull of old; Interrupting conversation, 575. Ollapod on October; The Virtues too cheap, 704. Charms of the incomprehensible; Harriet Martineau on love; The fire annihilator, 705. Originality; Eccentricities of Swift; The Iron Duke in Rhyme; On reminiscences, 706. Taking an interest; Determination of the Will, 707. In France without French; Mrs. Ramsbottom; The Disbanded Volunteer, 851. Baron Vondullbrainz; Domestic Remedies; Dr. Johnson on Scotland, 852. Hopeful Pupils; Lord Timothy Dexter; Adjutant-birds, 853. Dinner-giving; Keep cool; Peter Funk; Titles of songs; John Bull as a beat-ee, 854.

EDITOR'S EASY CHAIR.

Ex cathedrâ; The commercial and romantic way of telling a thing, 707. The winning loser, 708. Equestrianism as a beautifyer, 709. Advent of autumn; Retrospective and prospective; Hard times; The Arctic expedition, 849. Catherine Hayes; Madame Thillon; Mrs. Warner; Healy's Webster; The Art Union; Leutze's Washington Crossing the Delaware; American clippers, 850. French gossip; Borrel and his wife, 851. Albert Smith, 852.

EDITOR'S TABLE.

The indestructibleness of the religious principle in the human soul, 701. Night as represented by the Poets: Homer, Apollonius Rhodius, Virgil, Byron, Job, 702. Pedantic fallacies on education, 703. Progression of Ancestry and Posterity, 704. Westward course of empire, 851. Marriage: the nuptial torch, woman's rights, divorces, 846. True Charity: St. Augustine thereupon, 848.

Episode in the Life of John Rayner 510 Escape from a Mexican Quicksand 481 Execution of Fieschi, Pepin, and Morey 76 Fairy's Choice 800 Faquir's Curse 375 Fashions for June 143 Fashions for July 287 Fashions for August 431 Fashions for September 575 Fashions for October 719 Fashions for November 863 Feet-Washing in Munich 349 Floating Island 781 Fortunes of the Reverend Caleb Ellison 680 Francis's Life Boats and Life Cars. By JACOB ABBOTT 161 French Cottage Cookery 369 Frenchman in London 236 Gallop for Life 802 Hartley Coleridge 334 Highest House in Wathendale 521 Household of Sir Thomas More 42, 183, 310, 498, 623, 757 Hunter's Wife 388 Ice-Hill Party in Russia 66 Incident during the Mutiny of 1797 652 Incidents of Dueling 630 Incident of Indian Life 80 Infirmities of Genius 327 Joanna Baillie 88 Jeweled Watch 96 Joe Smith and the Mormons 64 Josephine at Malmaison 222 Joys and Sorrows of Lumbering 517 Lamartine on the Restoration 685 Last days of the Emperor Alexander 565 Last Priestess of Pele 354

LEAVES FROM PUNCH.

Tired of the World; Pleasure Trip of Messrs. Robinson and Jones; A Perfect Wretch, 141. Facts and Comments by Mr. Punch; Comparative Love; Taking the Census; Mysterious Machine, 285. Experimental Philosophy; The Interesting Story; Elegant and Rational Costume for Hot Weather; A Wet Day at a Country Inn; Scene at the Sea-Side; Affecting rather; Real Enjoyment; A Taste for the Beautiful; Singular Optical Delusion; A most alarming Swelling; Sunbeams from Cucumbers; Much Ado about Nothing; Little Lessons for Little Ladies, 425. Holding the Mirror up to Nature; A Bite; Much too considerate; A Lesson on Patience; Development of Taste, 717. Brother Jonathan's First Lesson in Shipbuilding; Not a difficult thing to foretell; Curiosities of Medical Experience; Retirement, 861.

Lima and the Limanians 598

LITERARY NOTICES.

Philosophy of Mathematics; Life of Algernon Sidney; Journal and Letters of Henry Martyn; Cooper's Water Witch, 138. Mayhew's London Labor, 139, 281, 856. Barry's Fruit Garden; Female Jesuit; The Wife's Sister; Poems by Mrs. E.H. Evans; Dealings with the Inquisition; Opdyke's Political Economy; Harper's New York and Erie Railroad Guide, 139. Tuckerman's Characteristics of Literature; The Gold-Worshipers; Mrs. Sigourney's Letters to my Pupils; Maurice Tiernay; Willis's Hurry-Graphs; Eastbury; Episodes of Insect Life, 280, 568, 855. Arthur's Works, 140. Memoirs of Wordsworth; Hitchcock's Religion of Geology; The Glens; Abbott's Cleopatra; Mrs. Browning's Poems, 280. Cosmos; Martin's Ortheopist; The Heir of West-Wayland; A Grandmother's Recollections; Ida; Colton's Land and Sea; De Felice's Protestants in France; Warren's Para; Herbert's Life and Writings, 281. Caleb Field; Dr. Spring's First Things; Yeast; Taylor's Angel's Song; Stuart of Dunleath; Shakspeare's Heroines; The Solitary of Juan Fernandez; Bulwer's Not so Bad as We Seem, 282. The Parthenon; Lady Wortley's Travels in America; Hudson's Shakspeare; Abbott's Josephine; Fresh Gleanings; Lossing's Field-Book; The Daughter of Night, 419. James's Fate; Inventor's Manual, 568; Memoirs of Bickersteth; Lamartine's Stone-Mason of Saint Point; True Remedy for the Wrongs of Woman; The Literature and Literary Men of Great Britain and Ireland, 569. Arthur Conway; Odd-Fellows' Offering; Loomis's Algebra; the Christian Retrospect and Register; Anthon's Roman Antiquities; Hildreth's History of the United States; Carpenter's Travels and Adventures in Mexico, 570. Sprague's Phi Beta Kappa Oration; Farmer's Every-Day Book; The Nile Boat; The Iris; The Dew-Drop; Willow-Lane Stories; Drayton; Lord's Epoch of Creation, 710. Theory of Human Progression; Forest Life and Forest Trees; Semme's Service Afloat and Ashore; The Lady and the Priest; The Attaché in Spain, 711. Scenes and Legends of the North of Scotland; Miss Benger's Mary Queen of Scots; Motherwell's Poems; Memoirs of the Buckminsters; Plymouth and the Pilgrims; St. John's Geology; Ware's Sketches of European Capitals; Lamartine's Restoration; Rule and Misrule of the English in America; Poore's Life of Napoleon, 712. Bayard Taylor's Romances, Lyrics, and Songs; Margaret; Abbott's Young Christian; Spooner's Dictionary of Artists; Memoirs of Chalmers; The Bible in the Family; The Scalp Hunters, 855. The Human Body in its Connection with Man; Ladies of the Covenant; Alban; Fifteen Decisive Battles; Queens of Scotland; The Lily and the Bee; London Labor; Malmiztic the Toltec; The Mind and the Heart, 856.

London Sparrows 258 Lord Brougham as a Judge 622 Love and Smuggling 378 Madames De Genlis and De Staël 59 Mary Kingsford 121 Maurice Tiernay, the Soldier of Fortune. By CHARLES LEVER 28, 171, 360, 471, 635, 767 Memories of Mexico 461 Mems for Musical Misses 488 Misers 614

MONTHLY RECORD OF CURRENT EVENTS.

UNITED STATES.

POLITICAL AND GENERAL NEWS.--Rumored descent upon Cuba; President's Proclamation; arrests, 127. Legislature of New York; the Canal Enlargement bill; close of the session; addresses to the political parties, 127. Quick passages across the Atlantic, 128, 275, 564. Emigrants from abroad, 128, 275, 561. May Anniversaries in New York, 128. Opening of the Erie Railroad, 128. Mr. Webster and Faneuil Hall, 129. Storm in New England, 129. Secret Ballot in Massachusetts, 129. Message of the Governor of Connecticut, 129. Southern Rights Convention at Charleston; Messrs. Cheves and Rhett, 129. Constitutional Convention in Virginia, 129, 277, 414, 558. Miscellaneous Intelligence from the Northwest, 129. Texas, 130, 277. New Mexico, 130. From California: Extra-judicial executions; death for larceny; tax on miners: Indian hostilities; population; gold; Japanese; thermal springs, 130. Abstract of the census, 273. Dispersion of Cuban expedition, 273. Speeches of Mr. Webster at Buffalo and Albany, 274. Methodist Book Concern suit, 274. Presbyterian General Assembly at Utica, 275. At St. Louis, 275. Ocean steamers, 275. Extra session of the New York Legislature, passage of the Canal Enlargement bill, 275. Address of framers of the Constitution against the bill, 275. Riot at Hoboken, 275. Legislature of Massachusetts, principal bills passed, 276. Mr. Sumner's letter of acceptance, 276. Maine and Massachusetts, 276. Liquor-law in Maine, 276. Northern Eldorado, 276. Message of Governor Dinsmoore of New Hampshire, 276. New Constitution in Maryland, 276. Politics in Georgia, 276. In South Carolina, 276. In Mississippi, 276. Indian hostilities in Texas, 277. From California, 277. From Oregon, 277. Whig and Democratic Conventions in Vermont, 411. Democratic State Convention in New Hampshire, 411. Whig and Democratic Conventions in Pennsylvania, 412. Whig Convention in Ohio, 412. State Rights Convention in Mississippi, 412. Whig Convention in California, 413. Mr. Webster's Fourth of July speech at Washington, 413. Legislature of New York; Canal bill; apportionment of representatives, 413. Position of Mr. Fish, 413. Legislature of Rhode Island, 413. Acceptance of new Constitution in Ohio, 413. Widows in Kentucky to vote, 413. Celebration of the battle of Fort Moultrie at Charleston, 414. Senators Clemens and King of Alabama, 414. Compromise resolutions in Connecticut, 414. Legislature of Michigan, 414. Mormon trials, 414. Mr. Webster at Capon Springs, 414. From California: fire at San Francisco; quartz mining; Lynch law; Chinamen; abortive expedition against Lower California, 415. Indian treaty in Oregon, 415. Miscellanies from the Northwest, 415. Trial of General Talcott, 415. American traveler imprisoned in Hungary, 415. College commencements, 415, 560. August elections, 557. State of parties, 557. Cuban expedition sets out, 557. Progress of crime, 557. Prospects of the harvest, 557. Indian hostilities along our frontiers, 557. Meeting for co-operative resistance in Charleston, 557. Southern Rights meeting, 558. New Constitution of Virginia, 558. Democratic Convention in Ohio, 558. From California: new route; another conflagration; T.B. McManus; vigilance committee, 559. Joint call for a Whig Convention in New York, 559. Judge Bronson on the Canal Enlargement bill, 560. Dinner to Archbishop Hughes, 560. Return of the steamer Atlantic, 561. Western Railroad Convention, 561. Colored Convention in Indiana, 562. Sioux treaty, 562. Steam to Ireland, 562. Letter from Kossuth, 562. Fourth of July at Turks Island, 562. Emancipation of slaves by Mr. Ragland, 562. Soundings in Gulf of Mexico, 562. Fugitive slaves in Mexico, 562. Expedition to Cuba fails, 692. Excitement in the United States, 693. Whig and Democratic Conventions in Massachusetts, 693. Whig and Democratic Conventions in New York, 693. Severe storm, 694. From Texas: crops; trade; Indian affray; Boundary Commission, 694. Fugitive slave cases, 694. Union victory in Mississippi, 694. Slaves liberated by Mr. Caldwell, 694. From California: subsidence of Lynch law; mining; Indians; politics, 695; more executions; conflict of authorities; miscellaneous, 841. Meeting of the New York State Agricultural Society, 840. Railroad celebration at Boston, 840. Return of the Arctic Expedition, 840. Legislature of Vermont, 840. Accidents and Shipwrecks, 840. Duels, 841. Michigan conspiracy trials, 841. Bishop in New York, 841. From New Mexico: Indians; Col. Sumner's command; Catholic Church, 841.

ELECTIONS.--Mr. Sumner in Massachusetts, 128. State officers in Connecticut, 129. Congressional representatives in Massachusetts, 276. State officers in New Hampshire, 276. August elections for members of Congress and State officers in several States, 557. Of delegates to State Convention in Mississippi, 694. Of Governor and Members of Congress in Georgia, 840.

SOUTHERN AMERICA.

Mexico: The revenue; Indian hostilities; meditated revolution, 130. Brazil and the Argentine Republic, 131, 277, 416, 697, 842. Excitement in Cuba, 131. Hayti, 131. From Mexico; financial difficulties; Indian hostilities; claims upon the United States, 277. From Peru: Election of President; disturbances, 277. Disturbances in Chili, 277. Central America, 278. Financial projects in Mexico, 416. Tehuantepec survey prohibited, 416. Chili and Peru, 416. General Rosas, 416. Uruguay, 416. New Constitution in Bolivia, 416. New Granada, 417. Plot in Venezuela, 417. Proposed confederation in Central America, 417. Cholera in Jamaica, 417. Cuba, 417. Santa Cruz, 417. Hostilities in Hayti, 417. Gloomy state of affairs in Mexico, 562. Statement of the Tehuantepec question, 563. Insurrectionary movements in New Granada, 563, 697. Scarcity of labor in Jamaica; colored emigrants solicited, 563. Riot at Kingston, 563. Abortive insurrection in Cuba, 564. Failure of the expedition and execution of Lopez, 692. Disturbances in Guayaquil, 696. Affairs in Chili: Election of Montt as President; revenues; railroads; storm, 696. Peru, 697. Mexican affairs: Financial schemes; Church property; Tehuantepec difficulties; proposed South American confederacy; disturbances; Payno's mission to England, 697. Decline of the slave-trade in Brazil, 697. Peace in Hayti, 697. Volcanic Eruption in Martinique, 697. Continued troubles in Mexico, 842. Revolution in the Northern departments, 842. Disturbances in Central America, 842. War between Brazil and Rosas, 842. Chili and Peru, 843.

GREAT BRITAIN.

Opening of the Exhibition, 131. Duke of Wellington and the statuette of Napoleon, 131. Proceedings in Parliament: Sundry motions; Jews' bill; model lodging houses, 131. Speech of Sir William Molesworth on the Colonies, 132. Lord Torrington as Governor of Ceylon, 132. Aylesbury election vacated, 132. Dinner to Lord Stanley, 132. Troubles in the Established Church, 132. The Kaffir war, 132, 417. Manifesto of the Chartists, 132. Emigration, 132, 843. Legal nicety, 132. Progress of the Exhibition. 278, 417, 565, 698, 843. American contributions, 278. Parliamentary proceedings, 278. Copyright decision in favor of foreigners, 278. Protectionist meeting at Tamworth, 278. Thackeray's lectures, 278. Mr. Cobden's peace motion, 417. Census of Great Britain, 417. Steam between Ireland and United States, 417. Prince Albert on the American revolution, 418. Balloon accident, 418. Passage of ecclesiastical titles bill, 564. Jewish disabilities bill, 564. Mr. Salomons denied a seat in Parliament, 564. Chancery reform, 565. Secret ballot, 565. Bishops' revenues, 565. Decline of the slave trade, 565. Depopulation of Ireland, 565. Opposition to copyright decision, 565. The queen and the corporation of London, 565. Mr. Peabody's entertainment, 565. The Crystal Palace as a winter garden, 566. Prerogation of Parliament, 597. The yacht races, 698. Catholic meeting in Dublin, 698. Condition of laboring classes, 698. Artistic defects, 698. Persistance of Mr. Salomons, 698. Speeches of Lord Palmerston, Bulwer, Mr. Hunt, and Mr. Disraeli, 843. Return of the Arctic Expedition, 843. Tour of the American minister in Ireland, 843. Submarine Telegraph, 843.

FRANCE.

Difficulties in the way of revision, 133. New Provisional Ministry formed, 133. Newspaper politics, 133. Troubles at Lyons, 133. Disturbances in the University, 133. Prosecutions against the press, 133, 279. Bread society, 133. Refugee dinner, 133. Holy week, 133. Hostilities in Algeria, 133. The President and Abd-el-Kader, 133. Question of revision, 279, 418. Defeat of the Kabyles, 279. Appointment of committee on revision, 418. The President at Dijon, 418. Report of the committee on revision, sketch of debate, and rejection of proposition, 566. Censure upon and proffered resignation of ministers, 567. Free-trade motion lost, 567. Fête to Exhibition commissioners, 567, 699. Adjournment of Assembly, 699. Preparations for presidential election, 699. Plots at Lyons, 699. Casualty at funeral of Marshal Sebastiani, 699. Government and the press, 843. Progress toward despotism, 843. Speech of the President, 844.

GERMANY.

Resuscitation of the Frankfort Diet, 133. Position of the Powers, 134. Refugee loan, 134. Close of the Dresden Conference, 279. Meeting of sovereigns, 279. Speech of the King of Prussia, 279. The Diet, 418. Affray at Hamburg, 418. English and French protests against Austrian projects, 567. Press ordinance in Austria, 567. Amnesty granted in Hesse Cassel, 567. Absolutism predominant, 699. Political persecutions of musicians, 699. Repression in Hungary, 700. Confiscation of the Allgemeine Zeitung, 715. Extension of the Zollverein, 844. Progress of Despotism in Austria, 844. Austrian loan, 844.

SOUTHERN EUROPE.

Insurrection in Portugal, and overthrow of the Thomar Ministry, 134, 279. Dissolution of the Spanish Cortes, 134. Railroad commissioners appointed, 134. From Italy: Death of _Il Passatore;_ books prohibited; Emperor of Austria at Venice; anniversary of the battle of Novara, 134. Elections in Spain, 279. Concordat with Rome, 279. Disturbances in Madrid, 279. Opposition to tobacco in Italy, 279, 418. The French at Rome, 279. Austrians in Italy, 418, 567. Banishment of Count Guicciardini, 418. Mr. Gladstone on political prisoners at Naples, 567. Portugal, 567. Arrests and Espionage in Italy, 699. Foreign publications examined, 700. Inundations in Switzerland, 700. Catastrophe at Moscow, 700. Reply of the Neapolitan Government to Mr. Gladstone, 844. Affairs at Rome, 844. Excitement in Spain on the Cuban question, 844. Spanish Tariff, 844.

THE EAST.

Insurrections in Turkey, 134. Hungarian exiles, 134. Earthquake in Anatolia, 134. Railroad across the Isthmus of Suez, 134. Revolt in Egypt, 134. Affairs in India, 134. Plot against the Nepaulese embassador, 134. Insurrection in China, 134, 567, 700. Russian losses in Circassia, 567. Hurricane in India, 567. The Governor-general, 567. Anti-mission movement among the Hindoos, 567. Cholera in the Canary Islands, 567. Kossuth to be liberated, 700. Annexation in India, 700. Affairs in Siam, 700. Massacre in Formosa, 700. Release of Kossuth, 844. Difficulties between Turkey and Austria, 844. Unsettled condition of Turkey, 845. Difficulties between Persia and Russia, 845. From India, 845. Discoveries of gold in Australia, 845.

LITERARY, SCIENTIFIC, AND PERSONAL.

UNITED STATES.--Visit of the President and Cabinet to the North, 135. St. George's Society, speeches of Mr. Bulwer, and Celtic wrath, 135. W.L. Mackenzie, 135. American meeting for the Advancement of Science, at Cincinnati, 135. Prussian medal to Professor Morse, 135. Return of Jenny Lind, 135. Art-Union, 135. Leutze's Washington Crossing the Delaware, 136. Woodville's Game of Chess, 136. Power's La Dorado, 136. Mr. Whitney, 136. Golden newspaper, 136. Philadelphia Art Union, 136. Chilly McIntosh, 136. Mr. Brace arrested in Hungary, 415. Talvi, 415. Mr. B.A. Gould, 415. Commencements of colleges, 415, 560. Dinner to Archbishop Hughes, 560. The Art Union, 561. Thorwaldssen's models, 561. Statue to De Witt Clinton, 561. Huntington, Gray, Page, 561. Greenough's Pioneer, 561. Release of Mr. Brace, 562. Indian chiefs, 562. First book printed in New York, 562. Education Association at Cleveland, 694. Anticipated trial of Mr. Brace, 700. Kossuth to be liberated, 700. Small lions at Soirées, 713. Literary strategy, 713. New work of Jonathan Edwards, 716. Catherine Hayes, 716. Father Mathew, 841. Monument to Cooper, 841. Methodist Book Concern, 860. W.G. Simms, 860. Works of Andrews Norton, 860. Stockhardt's Agricultural Chemistry, 860.

FOREIGN.--Sir Charles Lyell on rain-drop impressions, 136. Chapman on cotton in India, 136. Artificial gems, 137. Pensions to J.S. Buckingham, Col. Torrens, and Mrs. Jameson, 698. Mr. Jerdan, 698. Haynau at home, 698. Notices of Tuckerman and Ungewitter, 713. Present state of copyright question, 713. Railroad literature, 714. Estimation of Andrews' Latin Lexicon, 714. The Bateman children, 715. De Soto's Conquest of Florida, 715. Gavelkind, 715. Lingard's library, 715. Latham's Ethnology, 715. Complete Works of Frederick the Great, 716. Eugene Sue, 716. Gasparis, 716. Reboul, the baker poet, 716. Shakspeare abroad, 716. Cayley's Dante, 857. Tupper's Hymn, 857. Thomas Cooper, 857. Thackeray's forthcoming novel, 857. English Records, 857. Parkman's Pontiac, 857, 860. Carlyle's Life of Stirling, 858. Comte's Philosophy, 858. Layard's Investigations, 858. Monument to Wordsworth, 858. Achilli, Mazzini, 858. Thier's Consulate, 858. De Cassagnac, 858. Cheap publications, 858. St. Just, 858. Proudhon, 858. Spinoza, 859. Dumas, 859. Eugene Sue, Jules Janin, 859. De Maistre, 859. Unacknowledged translations, 859. Brentano, Metternich, 859. Monument to Muller, 859.

OBITUARIES.

Philip Hone, 137. Hon. David Daggett, 137. Hon. William Steele, 137. Gen. Hugh Brady, 137. Stephen, Olin, D.D., 695. Hon. Levi Woodbury, 695. James Fenimore Cooper, 695. Thomas H. Gallaudet, 696. Sylvester Graham, 696. Prof. Beverley Tucker, 696. Dr. Paulus, 700. Mr. Gibbon, 713. Harriet Lee, 713. Lady Louisa Stuart, 713. Daniel O'Sullivan, 715. Dr. Lorenz Oken, 715. John Godfrey Gruber, 716. M. Dupaty, 716. James Richardson, 860. William Nicol, 860. B.P. Gibbon, 860. John Kidd, 860.

Morbid Impulses 181 My Novel; or, Varieties in English Life. By SIR EDWARD BULWER LYTTON 111, 256, 394, 541, 665, 816 Napoleon Bonaparte. By JOHN S.C. ABBOTT 289, 433, 577, 721 Never Despair 651 New Proofs of the Earth's Rotation 99 Our National Anniversary. By BENSON J. LOSSING 145 Oriental Saloons in Madrid 335 Pearl Divers 46 Pedestrian in Holland 351 Peep at the Peraharra 322 Personal Habits of the Walpoles 79 Phantoms and Realities 49, 187, 337 Pie Shops of London 392 Pools of Ellendeen 466 Postal Reform--Cheap Postage 837 Poulailler the Robber 489 Race Horses and Horse Races 329 Recollections of the Author of Lacon 648 Reminiscences of An Attorney 314 Scene from Irish Life 832 Scientific Fantasies 496 Seals and Whales 764 Scottish Revenge 836 Shots in the Jungle 527 Shadow of Ben Jonson's Mother 810 Siberia as a Land of Exile 782 Sight of An Angel 25 Sketches of Oriental Life 805 Solar System 207 Somnambule 304 Somnambulism 196 Spanish Bull Fight 359 Stories of Shipwreck 62 Story of an Organ 754 Story of Reynard the Fox 742 Student Life in Paris 373 Summer. By JAMES THOMSON 1 Syrian Superstitions 839 The Flying Artist 761 The Right One 619 The Stolen Rose 787 The Town-Ho's Story. By HERMAN MELVILLE 658 The Treason of Benedict Arnold. By BENSON J. LOSSING 451 The Two Roads 61 The Usurer's Gift 232 Thomas Moore 791 Tobacco Factory in Spain 326 Village Life in Germany 320 Visit at Mr. Webster's. By Lady EMMELINE STUART WORTLEY 94 Visit to Laplanders 248 Visit to Robinson Crusoe 530 Visit to The North Cape 102 Warnings of The Past 391 Waterspout in Indian Ocean 469 Weovil Biscuit Manufactory 487 White Silk Bonnet 533 Widow of Cologne 815 Woman's Emancipation.--A letter from a strong-minded American Woman 424 Woman's Offices and Influence 654 Wordsworth, Byron, Scott, Shelley 502 Work Away 231 Worship of Gold 252

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

PAGE 1. Refulgent Summer comes 1 2. The meek-eyed dawn appears 2 3. From some promontory's top 3 4. Approach of evening 4 5. Reclined beneath the shade 5 6. Infancy, youth, and age 6 7. Hay-making 6 8. Sheep-washing 7 9. Slumbers the monarch swain 8 10. A various group the flocks and herds 8 11. A thousand shapes majestic stalk 9 12. An ample chair, moss-lined 10 13. Birth of the Nile 12 14. From steep to steep he pours his urn 12 15. Sad on the jutting eminence he sits 13 16. The mother strains her infant 13 17. Pouring forth pestilence 15 18. Stricken with plague 15 19. Thunder-storm 16 20. Young Celadon and his Amelia 17 21. A blackened corpse was struck the maid 17 22. The soft hour of walking 19 23. View on the Thames 19 24. The sailor's farewell 20 25. Shepherd and milkmaid 22 26. At eve the fairy people throng 22 27. Evening yields the world to night 23 28. Philosophy directs the helm 24 29. Rotation of the earth--Diagram 1 100 30. Rotation of the earth--Diagram 2 100 31. Tired of the world 141 32. Robinson and Jones pleasuring 141 33. Robinson and Jones on Deck 142 34. Robinson before and after a Voyage 142 35. A perfect Wretch 142 36. Costumes for early Summer 143 37. Evening dress 144 38. Head-dress 144 39. Bonnet 144 40. Portraits of Adams, Sherman, Livingston, Jefferson, and Franklin 145 41. Portrait of Earl of Bute 146 42. Portrait of James Otis 147 43. Portrait of Patrick Henry 148 44. Independence Hall, Philadelphia 151 45. Portrait of John Hancock 152 46. Portrait of Robert Morris 152 47. Portrait of Richard Henry Lee 153 48. Portrait of John Dickinson 153 49. Portrait of Edward Rutledge 154 50. Portrait of Samuel Adams 154 51. Portrait of John Witherspoon 155 52. The Liberty Bell 157 53. Fac-simile of the Signatures to the Declaration of Independence 158 54. Hauling the Life-car 161 55. The Life-car--Diagram 1 162 56. The Life-car--Diagram 2 162 57. The Life-car--Diagram 3 162 58. The Life-car--Diagram 4 162 59. Seizing the Cask 163 60. Firing the Shot 164 61. The Hydraulic Press 165 62. The Surf-boat 168 63. Climbing the Rope 169 64. The Tent 170 65. The Eclipse of 1851--Diagram 1 239 66. The Eclipse of 1851--Diagram 2 239 67. The Eclipse of 1851--Diagram 3 239 68. The Eclipse of 1851--Diagram 4 240 69. The Eclipse of 1851--Map 240 70. The Eclipse of 1851--enlarged Map 241 71. The Eclipse of 1851--Digits 241 72. Comparative Love 285 73. Taking the Census 286 74. A strange Machine 286 75. Costumes for Summer 287 76. Bonnets 288 77. Turkish Costume 288 78. The Birth-house of Napoleon 290 79. The Home of Napoleon's Childhood 292 80. Napoleon at Brienne 293 81. The Snow Fort 295 82. Lieutenant Bonaparte 299 83. The Water-excursion 303 84. Varieties of Bloomers 424 85. Experimental Philosophy 425 86. The interesting Story 425 87. Costumes for the Dog-days 425 88. A wet day at a Country Inn 426 89. Scene at the sea side 426 90. Affecting--rather 427 91. Real Enjoyment 427 92. A Taste for the Beautiful 428 93. Singular optical Delusion 428 94. A most alarming Swelling 429 95. Sunbeams from Cucumbers 429 96. Much Ado about Nothing 430 97. Little Lessons for Little Ladies 430 98. Costumes for August 431 99. Jackets 432 100. Boy's Dress 432 101. The Attack upon the Tuileries 435 102. The Emigrants 436 103. The Volunteer Gunners 440 104. Night Studies 443 105. Napoleon before the Convention 448 106. The Amazon discomfited 450 107. Portrait of Benedict Arnold 451 108. Portrait of Major Andrè 453 109. Portrait of Sir Henry Clinton 453 110. Portrait of Beverley Robinson 453 111. Robinson's House 454 112. Smith's House 455 113. Arnold's Pass to Andrè 456 114. Map of Andrè's Route 457 115. Place of Andrè's Capture 457 116. Breakfast Room at Robinson's House 458 117. View at Robinson's Dock 458 118. Washington's Head Quarters at Tappan 459 119. Andrè's Pen-and-Ink sketch of himself 459 120. Andrè's Monument 460 121. Paulding's Monument 460 122. Van Wart's Monument 460 123. Artesian Wells in Mississippi 539 124. The Auger for boring 539 125. Auger rods 539 126. The Pump 540 127. Bits for boring through Rock 540 128. Boring Apparatus complete 540 129. The Couter 540 130. Pump-logs 541 131. Section of Logs 541 132. Fashions for September 575 133. Bonnet and Head-dress 576 134. Chemisette 576 135. Napoleon and Eugene Beauharnais 578 136. Napoleon and his Generals 583 137. Napoleon on Mount Zemolo 585 138. Passage of the Bridge of Lodi 590 139. Napoleon and the Courier 593 140. The Burning of Banasco 595 141. Peruvian Cavalier 600 142. Limeña at Home 602 143. Cholitas or Indian Women of Peru 603 144. Coming from Mass 604 145. Holding the Mirror up to Nature 717 146. A Bite 717 147. Much too considerate 717 148. A Lesson on Patience 718 149. Development of Taste 718 150. Costumes for October 719 151. Carriage Costume 720 152. Caps and Under-sleeve 720 153. The Encampment before Mantua 721 154. The Little Corporal and the Sentinel 725 155. The Solitary Bivouac 726 156. The Dead Soldier and his Dog 728 157. The Marshes of Arcola 733 158. The Exhausted Sentinel 739 159. Reynard at Home 743 160. Reynard as a Hermit 744 161. Sir Tibert delivering the King's Message 745 162. Reynard brings forward the Hare 746 163. Reynard on his Pilgrimage to Rome 747 164. Reynard attacks the Rabbit 748 165. Brother Jonathan's First Lesson in Shipbuilding 861 166. Not a difficult thing to foretell 861 167. Curiosities of Medical Experience 862 168. Retirement 862 169. Costumes for November 863 170. Opera Dress 864 171. Head-Dresses and Caps 864

HARPER'S

NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE.

NO. XIII.--JUNE, 1851.--VOL. III.

SUMMER.

BY JAMES THOMSON

From brightening fields of ether fair-disclos'd, Child of the sun, refulgent SUMMER comes, In pride of youth, and felt through nature's depth: He comes attended by the sultry hours, And ever-fanning breezes, on his way; While, from his ardent look, the turning Spring Averts her blushful face; and earth, and skies, All-smiling, to his hot dominion leaves.

Hence, let me haste into the mid wood shade, Where scarce a sunbeam wanders through the gloom And on the dark-green grass, beside the brink Of haunted stream, that by the roots of oak Rolls o'er the rocky channel, lie at large, And sing the glories of the circling year.

Come, Inspiration! from thy hermit-seat, By mortal seldom found: may fancy dare, From thy fix'd serious eye, and raptur'd glance Shot on surrounding heaven, to steal one look Creative of the poet, every power Exalting to an ecstasy of soul.

And thou, my youthful muse's early friend, In whom the human graces all unite; Pure light of mind, and tenderness of heart; Genius and wisdom; the gay social sense, By decency chastis'd; goodness and wit, In seldom-meeting harmony combin'd; Unblemish'd honor, and an active zeal For Britain's glory, liberty, and man: O Dodington! attend my rural song, Stoop to my theme, inspirit every line, And teach me to deserve thy just applause.

With what an awful world-revolving power Were first the unwieldy planets launch'd along The illimitable void! thus to remain, Amid the flux of many thousand years, That oft has swept the toiling race of men And all their labor'd monuments away, Firm, unremitting, matchless, in their course, To the kind-temper'd change of night and day, And of the Seasons ever stealing round, Minutely faithful: such the All-perfect Hand That pois'd, impels, and rules the steady whole.

When now no more the alternate Twins are fir'd, And Cancer reddens with the solar blaze, Short is the doubtful empire of the night; And soon, observant of approaching day, The meek-ey'd morn appears, mother of dews, At first faint-gleaming in the dappled east-- Till far o'er ether spreads the widening glow, And, from before the lustre of her face, White break the clouds away. With quicken'd step, Brown night retires. Young day pours in apace, And opens all the lawny prospect wide. The dripping rock, the mountain's misty top, Swell on the sight, and brighten with the dawn. Blue, through the dusk, the smoking currents shine; And from the bladed field the fearful hare Limps, awkward; while along the forest glade The wild deer trip, and often turning gaze At early passenger. Music awakes, The native voice of undissembled joy, And thick around the woodland hymns arise. Rous'd by the cock, the soon-clad shepherd leaves His mossy cottage, where with peace he dwells; And from the crowded fold, in order, drives His flock, to taste the verdure of the morn.

Falsely luxurious, will not man awake; And, springing from the bed of sloth, enjoy The cool, the fragrant, and the silent hour, To meditation due and sacred song? For is there aught in sleep can charm the wise? To lie in dead oblivion, losing half The fleeting moments of too short a life; Total extinction of the enlighten'd soul! Or else to feverish vanity alive, Wilder'd, and tossing through distemper'd dreams Who would in such a gloomy state remain Longer than nature craves; when every muse And every blooming pleasure wait without, To bless the wildly devious morning-walk?

But yonder comes the powerful king of day, Rejoicing in the east. The lessening cloud, The kindling azure, and the mountain's brow Illum'd with fluid gold, his near approach Betoken glad. Lo! now apparent all, Aslant the dew-bright earth, and color'd air, He looks in boundless majesty abroad; And sheds the shining day, that burnish'd plays On rocks, and hills, and towers, and wandering streams, High-gleaming from afar. Prime cheerer, light! Of all material beings first, and best! Efflux divine! Nature's resplendent robe! Without whose vesting beauty all were wrapp'd In unessential gloom; and thou, O sun! Soul of surrounding worlds! in whom best seen Shines out thy Maker! may I sing of thee?

'Tis by thy secret, strong, attractive force, As with a chain indissoluble bound, Thy system rolls entire; from the far bourn Of utmost Saturn, wheeling wide his round Of thirty years, to Mercury, whose disk Can scarce be caught by philosophic eye, Lost in the near effulgence of thy blaze.

Informer of the planetary train! Without whose quickening glance their cumbrous orbs Were brute unlovely mass, inert and dead, And not, as now, the green abodes of life-- How many forms of being wait on thee! Inhaling spirit; from the unfetter'd mind, By thee sublim'd, down to the daily race, The mixing myriads of thy setting beam.

The vegetable world is also thine, Parent of Seasons! who the pomp precede That waits thy throne, as through thy vast domain, Annual, along the bright ecliptic-road, In world-rejoicing state, it moves sublime. Meantime the expecting nations, circled gay With all the various tribes of foodful earth, Implore thy bounty, or send grateful up A common hymn; while, round thy beaming car, High-seen, the Seasons lead, in sprightly dance Harmonious knit, the rosy-finger'd hours, The zephyrs floating loose, the timely rains, Of bloom ethereal the light-footed dews, And soften'd into joy the surly storms. These, in successive turn, with lavish hand, Shower every beauty, every fragrance shower, Herbs, flowers, and fruits; till, kindling at thy touch, From land to land is flush'd the vernal year.

Nor to the surface of enliven'd earth, Graceful with hills and dales, and leafy woods, Her liberal tresses, is thy force confin'd-- But, to the bowel'd cavern darting deep, The mineral kinds confess thy mighty power. Effulgent, hence the veiny marble shines; Hence labor draws his tools; hence burnish'd war Gleams on the day; the nobler works of peace Hence bless mankind; and generous commerce binds The round of nations in a golden chain.

The unfruitful rock itself, impregn'd by thee, In dark retirement forms the lucid stone. The lively diamond drinks thy purest rays, Collected light, compact; that, polish'd bright. And all its native lustre let abroad, Dares, as it sparkles on the fair one's breast, With vain ambition emulate her eyes. At thee the ruby lights its deepening glow, And with a waving radiance inward flames. From thee the sapphire, solid ether, takes Its hue cerulean; and, of evening tinct, The purple streaming amethyst is thine. With thy own smile the yellow topaz burns; Nor deeper verdure dyes the robe of Spring, When first she gives it to the southern gale, Than the green emerald shows. But, all combin'd, Thick through the whitening opal play thy beams; Or, flying several from its surface, form A trembling variance of revolving hues, As the site varies in the gazer's hand.

The very dead creation, from thy touch, Assumes a mimic life. By thee refin'd, In brighter mazes the relucent stream Plays o'er the mead. The precipice abrupt, Projecting horror on the blacken'd flood, Softens at thy return. The desert joys Wildly, through all his melancholy bounds. Rude ruins glitter; and the briny deep, Seen from some pointed promontory's top, Far to the blue horizon's utmost verge, Restless, reflects a floating gleam. But this, And all the much-transported muse can sing, Are to thy beauty, dignity, and use, Unequal far; great delegated source Of light, and life, and grace, and joy below!

How shall I then attempt to sing of him, Who, Light himself! in uncreated light Invested deep, dwells awfully retired From mortal eye, or angel's purer ken, Whose single smile has, from the first of time, Fill'd, overflowing, all those lamps of heaven, That beam forever through the boundless sky; But, should he hide his face, the astonish'd sun, And all the extinguish'd stars, would loosening reel Wide from their spheres, and chaos come again.

And yet was every faltering tongue of man, Almighty Father! silent in thy praise, Thy works themselves would raise a general voice Even in the depth of solitary woods, By human foot untrod, proclaim thy power; And to the quire celestial thee resound, The eternal cause, support, and end of all!

To me be Nature's volume broad-display'd; And to peruse its all-instructing page, Or, haply catching inspiration thence, Some easy passage, raptur'd, to translate, My sole delight; as through the falling glooms Pensive I stray, or with the rising dawn On fancy's eagle-wing excursive soar.

Now, flaming up the heavens, the potent sun Melts into limpid air the high-rais'd clouds, And morning fogs, that hover'd round the hills In party-color'd bands; till wide unveil'd The face of nature shines, from where earth seems Far stretch'd around, to meet the bending sphere.

Half in a blush of clustering roses lost, Dew-dropping coolness to the shade retires, There, on the verdant turf, or flowery bed, By gelid founts and careless rills to muse; While tyrant heat, dispreading through the sky, With rapid sway, his burning influence darts On man, and beast, and herb, and tepid stream.

Who can, unpitying, see the flowery race, Shed by the morn, their new-flush'd bloom resign, Before the parching beam? So fade the fair, When fevers revel through their azure veins. But one, the lofty follower of the sun, Sad when he sets, shuts up her yellow leaves, Drooping all night; and, when he warm returns, Points her enamor'd bosom to his ray.

Home, from the morning task, the swain retreats; His flock before him stepping to the fold: While the full-udder'd mother lows around The cheerful cottage, then expecting food, The food of innocence and health! The daw, The rook, and magpie, to the gray-grown oaks (That the calm village in their verdant arms, Sheltering, embrace) direct their lazy flight; Where on the mingling boughs they sit embower'd, All the hot noon, till cooler hours arise. Faint, underneath, the household fowls convene; And, in a corner of the buzzing shade, The housedog, with the vacant grayhound, lies Outstretched and sleepy. In his slumbers one Attacks the nightly thief, and one exults O'er hill and dale; till, waken'd by the wasp, They, starting, snap. Nor shall the muse disdain To let the little noisy summer race Live in her lay, and flutter through her song, Not mean, though simple: to the sun allied, From him they draw their animating fire.

Wak'd by his warmer ray, the reptile young Come wing'd abroad; by the light air upborne, Lighter, and full of soul. From every chink, And secret corner, where they slept away The wintry storms--or, rising from their tombs To higher life--by myriads, forth at once, Swarming they pour; of all the varied hues Their beauty-beaming parent can disclose. Ten thousand forms! ten thousand different tribes! People the blaze. To sunny waters some By fatal instinct fly; where, on the pool, They, sportive, wheel; or, sailing down the stream Are snatch'd immediate by the quick-ey'd trout, Or darting salmon. Through the greenwood glade Some love to stray; there lodg'd, amus'd, and fed In the fresh leaf. Luxurious, others make The meads their choice, and visit every flower, And every latent herb: for the sweet task, To propagate their kinds, and where to wrap, In what soft beds, their young, yet undisclos'd, Employs their tender care. Some to the house, The fold, and dairy, hungry, bend their flight; Sip round the pail, or taste the curdling cheese: Oft, inadvertent, from the milky stream They meet their fate; or, weltering in the bowl, With powerless wings around them wrapp'd, expire.

But chief to heedless flies the window proves A constant death; where, gloomily retir'd, The villain spider lives, cunning and fierce, Mixture abhorr'd! Amid a mangled heap Of carcasses, in eager watch he sits, O'erlooking all his waving snares around. Near the dire cell the dreadless wanderer oft Passes, as oft the ruffian shows his front. The prey at last ensnar'd, he dreadful darts, With rapid glide, along the leaning line; And, fixing in the wretch his cruel fangs, Strikes backward, grimly pleas'd: the fluttering wing, And shriller sound, declare extreme distress And ask the helping hospitable hand.

Resounds the living surface of the ground. Nor undelightful is the ceaseless hum, To him who muses through the woods at noon; Or drowsy shepherd, as he lies reclin'd, With half shut eyes, beneath the floating shade Of willows gray, close-crowding o'er the brook.

Gradual, from these what numerous kinds descend, Evading even the microscopic eye! Full nature swarms with life; one wondrous mass Of animals, or atoms organiz'd, Waiting the vital breath, when Parent-Heaven Shall bid his spirit blow. The hoary fen, In putrid streams, emits the living cloud Of pestilence. Through the subterranean cells.

Where searching sunbeams scarce can find a way, Earth animated heaves. The flowery leaf Wants not its soft inhabitants. Secure, Within its winding citadel, the stone Holds multitudes. But chief the forest boughs, That dance unnumber'd to the playful breeze, The downy orchard, and the melting pulp Of mellow fruit, the nameless nations feed Of evanescent insects. Where the pool Stands mantled o'er with green, invisible Amid the floating verdure millions stray. Each liquid, too, whether it pierces, soothes, Inflames, refreshes, or exalts the taste, With various forms abounds. Nor is the stream Of purest crystal, nor the lucid air, Though one transparent vacancy it seems, Void of their unseen people. These, conceal'd By the kind art of forming Heaven, escape The grosser eye of man: for, if the worlds In worlds inclos'd should on his senses burst, From cates ambrosial, and the nectar'd bowl, He would abhorrent turn; and in dead night. When silence sleeps o'er all, be stunn'd with noise.

Let no presuming impious railer tax Creative Wisdom, as if aught was form'd In vain, or not for admirable ends. Shall little haughty ignorance pronounce His works unwise, of which the smallest part Exceeds the narrow vision of her mind? As if upon a full-proportion'd dome, On swelling columns heav'd, the pride of art! A critic fly, whose feeble ray scarce spreads An inch around, with blind presumption bold, Should dare to tax the structure of the whole. And lives the man whose universal eye Has swept at once the unbounded scheme of things, Mark'd their dependence so, and firm accord, As with unfaltering accent to conclude That _this_ availeth naught? Has any seen The mighty chain of beings, lessening down From Infinite Perfection to the brink Of dreary nothing, desolate abyss! From which astonish'd thought, recoiling, turns? Till then, alone let zealous praise ascend, And hymns of holy wonder, to that Power, Whose wisdom shines as lovely on our minds, As on our smiling eyes his servant-sun.

Thick in yon stream of light, a thousand ways, Upward and downward, thwarting and convolv'd, The quivering nations sport; till, tempest-wing'd, Fierce Winter sweeps them from the face of day Even so, luxurious men, unheeding pass, An idle summer-life in fortune's shine, A season's glitter! thus they flutter on From toy to toy, from vanity to vice; Till, blown away by death, oblivion comes Behind, and strikes them from the book of life.

Now swarms the village o'er the jovial mead The rustic youth, brown with meridian toil, Healthful and strong; full as the summer rose Blown by prevailing suns, the ruddy maid, Half-naked, swelling on the sight, and all Her kindled graces burning o'er her cheek. Even stooping age is here; and infant hands Trail the long rake, or, with the fragrant load O'ercharg'd, amid the kind oppression roll. Wide flies the tedded grain; all in a row Advancing broad, or wheeling round the field, They spread the breathing harvest to the sun, That throws refreshful round a rural smell; Or, as they rake the green-appearing ground, And drive the dusky wave along the mead, The russet haycock rises thick behind, In order gay: while heard from dale to dale, Waking the breeze, resounds the blended voice Of happy labor, love, and social glee.

Or rushing thence, in one diffusive band, They drive the troubled flocks, by many a dog Compell'd, to where the mazy-running brook Forms a deep pool; this bank abrupt and high, And that, fair-spreading in a pebbled shore. Urg'd to the giddy brink, much is the toil, The clamor much, of men, and boys, and dogs, Ere the soft fearful people to the flood Commit their woolly sides. And oft the swain, On some impatient seizing, hurls them in: Embolden'd, then, nor hesitating more, Fast, fast they plunge amid the flashing wave, And panting labor to the farther shore. Repeated this, till deep the well-wash'd fleece Has drank the flood, and from his lively haunt The trout is banish'd by the sordid stream, Heavy and dripping, to the breezy brow Slow move the harmless race; where, as they spread Their swelling treasures to the sunny ray, Inly disturb'd, and wondering what this wild Outrageous tumult means, their loud complaints The country fill--and, toss'd from rock to rock, Incessant bleatings run around the hills. At last, of snowy white, the gather'd flocks Are in the wattled pen innumerous press'd, Head above head; and rang'd in lusty rows The shepherds sit, and whet the sounding shears. The housewife waits to roll her fleecy stores, With all her gay-dress'd maids attending round. One, chief, in gracious dignity enthron'd, Shines o'er the rest, the pastoral queen, and rays Her smiles, sweet-beaming, on her shepherd-king, While the glad circle round them yield their souls To festive mirth, and wit that knows no gall. Meantime, their joyous task goes on apace: Some, mingling, stir the melted tar, and some, Deep on the new-shorn vagrant's heaving side To stamp his master's cipher ready stand; Others the unwilling wether drag along; And, glorying in his might, the sturdy boy Holds by the twisted horns the indignant ram. Behold where bound, and of its robe bereft, By needy man, that all-depending lord, How meek, how patient, the mild creature lies! What softness in its melancholy face, What dumb, complaining innocence appears! Fear not, ye gentle tribes, 'tis not the knife Of horrid slaughter that is o'er you wav'd; No, 'tis the tender swain's well-guided shears, Who having now, to pay his annual care, Borrow'd your fleece, to you a cumbrous load, Will send you bounding to your hills again.

A simple scene! yet hence Britannia sees Her solid grandeur rise: hence she commands The exalted stores of every brighter clime, The treasures of the sun without his rage; Hence, fervent all, with culture, toil, and arts, Wide glows her land; her dreadful thunder hence Rides o'er the waves sublime, and now, even now, Impending hangs o'er Gallia's humbled coast; Hence rules the circling deep, and awes the world.

'Tis raging noon; and, vertical, the sun Darts on the head direct his forceful rays. O'er heaven and earth, far as the ranging eye Can sweep, a dazzling deluge reigns; and all, From pole to pole, is undistinguish'd blaze. In vain the sight, dejected to the ground, Stoops for relief; thence hot ascending streams And keen reflection pain. Deep to the root Of vegetation parch'd, the cleaving fields And slippery lawn an arid hue disclose, Blast fancy's blooms, and wither even the soul. Echo no more returns the cheerful sound Of sharpening scythe; the mower, sinking, heaps O'er him the humid hay, with flowers perfum'd; And scarce a chirping grasshopper is heard Through the dumb mead. Distressful nature pants. The very streams look languid from afar; Or, through the unshelter'd glade, impatient, seem To hurl into the covert of the grove.

All conquering heat, oh, intermit thy wrath! And on my throbbing temples potent thus Beam not so fierce! Incessant still you flow, And still another fervent flood succeeds, Pour'd on the head profuse. In vain I sigh, And restless turn, and look around for night: Night is far off; and hotter hours approach. Thrice-happy be! who on the sunless side Of a romantic mountain, forest-crown'd, Beneath the whole-collected shade reclines, Or in the gelid caverns, woodbine-wrought, And fresh bedew'd with ever-spouting streams, Sits coolly calm, while all the world without, Unsatisfied and sick, tosses in noon. Emblem instructive of the virtuous man, Who keeps his temper'd mind serene, and pure, And every passion aptly harmoniz'd, Amid a jarring world with vice inflam'd.

Welcome, ye shades! ye bowery thickets, hail! Ye lofty pines! ye venerable oaks! Ye ashes wild, responding o'er the steep! Delicious is your shelter to the soul, As to the hunted hart the sallying spring, Or stream full-flowing, that his swelling sides Laves, as he floats along the herbag'd brink. Cool, through the nerves, your pleasing comfort glides; The heart beats glad; the fresh-expanded eye And ear resume their watch; the sinews knit; And life shoots swift through all the lighten'd limbs.

Around the adjoining brook that purls along The vocal grove, now fretting o'er a rock, Now scarcely moving through a reedy pool, Now starting to a sudden stream, and now Gently diffus'd into a limpid plain, A various group the herds and flocks compose Rural confusion! On the grassy bank Some ruminating lie; while others stand Half in the flood, and often bending sip The circling surface. In the middle droops The strong laborious ox, of honest front, Which incompos'd he shakes; and from his sides The troublous insects lashes with his tail, Returning still. Amid his subjects safe, Slumbers the monarch swain: his careless arm Thrown round his head, on downy moss sustain'd: Here laid his scrip, with wholesome viands fill'd; There, listening every noise, his watchful dog.

Light fly his slumbers, if perchance a flight Of angry gadflies fasten on the herd; That startling scatters from the shallow brook, In search of lavish stream. Tossing the foam, They scorn the keeper's voice, and scour the plain Through all the bright severity of noon; While, from their laboring breasts, a hollow moan Proceeding, runs low-bellowing round the hills.

Oft in this season too the horse, provok'd, While his big sinews full of spirits swell, Trembling with vigor, in the heat of blood, Springs the high fence; and, o'er the field effus'd, Darts on the gloomy flood, with steadfast eye, And heart estrang'd to fear: his nervous chest, Luxuriant and erect, the seat of strength! Bears down the opposing stream; quenchless his thirst, He takes the river at redoubled draughts: And with wide nostrils, snorting, skims the wave.

Still let me pierce into the midnight depth Of yonder grove, of wildest, largest growth; That, forming high in air a woodland quire, Nods o'er the mount beneath. At every step, Solemn and slow, the shadows blacker fall, And all is awful listening gloom around.

These are the haunts of meditation, these The scenes where ancient bards the inspiring breath, Ecstatic, felt: and, from this world retir'd. Convers'd with angels, and immortal forms, On gracious errands bent: to save the fall Of virtue struggling on the brink of vice; In waking whispers, and repeated dreams, To hint pure thought, and warn the favor'd soul For future trials fated to prepare; To prompt the poet, who devoted gives His muse to better themes; to soothe the pangs Of dying worth, and from the patriot's breast (Backward to mingle in detested war, But foremost when engag'd) to turn the death: And numberless such offices of love, Daily and nightly, zealous to perform.

Shook sudden from the bosom of the sky, A thousand shapes or glide athwart the dusk, Or stalk majestic on. Deep-rous'd, I feel A sacred terror, a severe delight, Creep through my mortal frame; and thus, methinks. A voice, than human more, the abstracted ear Of fancy strikes, "Be not of us afraid, Poor kindred man! thy fellow-creatures, we From the same Parent-Power our beings drew-- The same our Lord, and laws, and great pursuit. Once some of us, like thee, through stormy life Toil'd tempest-beaten, ere we could attain This holy calm, this harmony of mind, Where purity and peace immingle charms: Then fear not us; but with responsive song, Amid those dim recesses, undisturb'd By noisy folly and discordant vice, Of nature sing with us, and nature's God. Here frequent, at the visionary hour, When musing midnight reigns or silent noon, Angelic harps are in full concert heard, And voices chanting from the wood-crown'd hill, The deepening dale, or inmost sylvan glade; A privilege bestow'd by us, alone, On contemplation, or the hallow'd ear Of poet, swelling to seraphic strain."

And art thou, Stanley, of that sacred band? Alas, for us too soon! Though rais'd above The reach of human pain, above the flight Of human joy, yet, with a mingled ray Of sadly pleas'd remembrance, must thou feel A mother's love, a mother's tender woe; Who seeks thee still in many a former scene, Seeks thy fair form, thy lovely beaming eyes, Thy pleasing converse, by gay lively sense Inspir'd--where moral wisdom mildly shone Without the toil of art, and virtue glow'd. In all her smiles, without forbidding pride. But, O thou best of parents! wipe thy tears; Or rather to parental Nature pay The tears of grateful joy--who for a while Lent thee this younger self, this opening bloom Of thy enlighten'd mind and gentle worth. Believe the muse: the wintry blast of death Kills not the buds of virtue; no, they spread. Beneath the heavenly beam of brighter suns, Through endless ages, into higher powers.

Thus up the mount, in airy vision rapt, I stray, regardless whither; till the sound Of a near fall of water every sense Wakes from the charm of thought: swift-shrinking back, I check my steps, and view the broken scene.

Smooth to the shelving brink a copious flood Rolls fair and placid; where collected all, In one impetuous torrent, down the steep It thundering shoots, and shakes the country round. At first, an azure sheet, it rushes broad; Then whitening by degrees as prone it falls, And from the loud-resounding rocks below Dash'd in a cloud of foam, it sends aloft A hoary mist, and forms a ceaseless shower Nor can the tortur'd wave here find repose: But, raging still amid the shaggy rocks, Now flashes o'er the scattered fragments, now Aslant the hollow'd channel rapid darts; And falling fast from gradual slope to slope, With wild infracted course, and lessen'd roar, It gains a safer bed, and steals at last, Along the mazes of the quiet vale.

Invited from the cliff, to whose dark brow He clings, the steep-ascending eagle soars, With upward pinions, through the flood of day, And, giving full his bosom to the blaze, Gains on the sun; while all the tuneful race, Smit by afflictive noon, disorder'd droop, Deep in the thicket; or, from bower to bower Responsive, force an interrupted strain. The stockdove only through the forest coos, Mournfully hoarse; oft ceasing from his plaint, Short interval of weary woe! again The sad idea of his murder'd mate, Struck from his side by savage fowler's guile Across his fancy comes; and then resounds A louder song of sorrow through the grove.

Beside the dewy border let me sit, All in the freshness of the humid air: There on that hollow'd rock, grotesque and wild, An ample chair moss-lin'd, and overhead By flowing umbrage shaded; where the bee Strays diligent, and with the extracted balm Of fragrant woodbine loads his little thigh.

Now, while I taste the sweetness of the shade, While nature lies around deep-lull'd in noon, Now come, bold fancy, spread a daring flight, And view the wonders of the torrid zone Climes unrelenting! with whose rage compar'd, Yon blaze is feeble, and yon skies are cool.

See, how at once the bright-effulgent sun, Rising direct, swift chases from the sky The short-liv'd twilight; and with ardent blaze Looks gayly fierce o'er all the dazzling air: He mounts his throne; but kind before him sends, Issuing from out the portals of the morn, The general breeze to mitigate his fire, And breathe refreshment on a fainting world. Great are the scenes, with dreadful beauty crown'd And barbarous wealth, that see, each circling year, Returning suns and double seasons pass: Rocks rich in gems, and mountains big with mines, That on the high equator ridgy rise, Whence many a bursting stream auriferous plays; Majestic woods, of every vigorous green, Stage above stage, high waving o'er the hills, Or to the far horizon wide-diffus'd, A boundless deep immensity of shade. Here lofty trees, to ancient song unknown, The noble sons of potent heat and floods Prone-rushing from the clouds, rear high to heaven Their thorny stems, and broad around them throw Meridian gloom. Here, in eternal prime, Unnumber'd fruits, of keen, delicious taste And vital spirit, drink amid the cliffs, And burning sands that bank the shrubby vales, Redoubled day; yet in their rugged coats A friendly juice to cool its rage contain.

Bear me, Pomona! to thy citron groves; To where the lemon and the piercing lime, With the deep orange, glowing through the green, Their lighter glories blend. Lay me reclin'd Beneath the spreading tamarind, that shakes, Fann'd by the breeze, its fever-cooling fruit. Deep in the night the massy locust sheds, Quench my hot limbs; or lead me through the maze, Embowering, endless, of the Indian fig; Or thrown at gayer ease, on some fair brow, Let me behold, by breezy murmurs cool'd, Broad o'er my head the verdant cedar wave, And high palmettos lift their graceful shade. Oh! stretch'd amid these orchards of the sun, Give me to drain the cocoa's milky bowl, And from the palm to draw its freshening wine; More bounteous far than all the frantic juice Which Bacchus pours. Nor, on its slender twigs Low-bending, be the full pomegranate scorn'd; Nor, creeping through the woods, the gelid race Of berries. Oft in humble station dwells Unboastful worth, above fastidious pomp. Witness, thou best ananas, thou the pride Of vegetable life, beyond whate'er The poets imag'd in the golden age: Quick let me strip thee of thy tufty coat, Spread thy ambrosial stores, and feast with Jove!

From these the prospect varies. Plains immense Lie stretch'd below, interminable meads, And vast savannas, where the wandering eye, Unfix'd, is in a verdant ocean lost. Another Flora there, of bolder hues And richer sweets, beyond our garden's pride, Plays o'er the fields, and showers with sudden hand Exuberant Spring; for oft these valleys shift Their green-embroidered robe to fiery brown, And swift to green again, as scorching suns, Or streaming dews and torrent rains, prevail. Along these lonely regions, where, retir'd From little scenes of art, great Nature dwells In awful solitude, and naught is seen But the wild herds that own no master's stall, Prodigious rivers roll their fattening seas; On whose luxuriant herbage, half-conceal'd, Like a fall'n cedar, far diffus'd his train, Cas'd in green scales, the crocodile extends. The flood disparts: behold! in plaited mail, Behemoth rears his head. Glanc'd from his side, The darted steel in idle shivers flies: He fearless walks the plain, or seeks the hills; Where, as he crops his varied fare, the herds, In widening circle round, forget their food, And at the harmless stranger wondering gaze.

Peaceful, beneath primeval trees that cast Their ample shade o'er Niger's yellow stream. And where the Ganges rolls his sacred wave, Or 'mid the central depth of blackening woods High-rais'd in solemn theater around, Leans the huge elephant; wisest of brutes! Oh, truly wise! with gentle might endow'd, Though powerful, not destructive. Here he sees Revolving ages sweep the changeful earth, And empires rise and fall; regardless he Of what the never-resting race of men Project: thrice happy! could he 'scape their guile, Who mine, from cruel avarice, his steps, Or with his towery grandeur swell their state, The pride of kings! or else his strength pervert, And bid him rage amid the mortal fray, Astonish'd at the madness of mankind. Wide o'er the winding umbrage of the floods, Like vivid blossoms glowing from afar, Thick-swarm the brighter birds. For Nature's hand. That with a sportive vanity has deck'd The plumy nations, there her gayest hues Profusely pours. But, if she bids them shine, Array'd in all the beauteous beams of day, Yet frugal still, she humbles them in song. Nor envy we the gaudy robes they lent Proud Montezuma's realm, whose legions cast A boundless radiance waving on the sun, While philomel is ours; while in our shades, Through the soft silence of the listening night, The sober-suited songstress trills her lay.

But come, my muse, the desert-barrier burst, A wild expanse of lifeless sand and sky, And, swifter than the toiling caravan, Shoot o'er the vale of Sennaar, ardent climb The Nubian mountains, and the secret bounds Of jealous Abyssinia boldly pierce. Thou art no ruffian, who beneath the mask Of social commerce com'st to rob their wealth, No holy fury thou, blaspheming Heaven. With consecrated steel to stab their peace, And through the land, yet red from civil wounds, To spread the purple tyranny of Rome. Thou, like the harmless bee, may'st freely range, From mead to mead bright with exalted flowers, From jasmine grove to grove; may'st wander gay, Through palmy shades and aromatic woods, That grace the plains, invest the peopled hills, And up the more than Alpine mountains wave. There on the breezy summit, spreading fair For many a league; or on stupendous rocks. That from the sun-redoubling valley lift, Cool to the middle air their lawny tops; Where palaces, and fanes, and villas rise, And gardens smile around, and cultur'd fields; And fountains gush; and careless herds and flocks Securely stray; a world within itself, Disdaining all assault: there let me draw Ethereal soul, there drink reviving gales. Profusely breathing from the spicy groves, And vales of fragrance; there at distance hear The roaring floods, and cataracts, that sweep From disembowel'd earth the virgin gold; And o'er the varied landscape, restless, rove, Fervent with life of every fairer kind. A land of wonders! which the sun still eyes With ray direct, as of the lovely realm Enamor'd, and delighting there to dwell.

How chang'd the scene! In blazing height of noon. The sun, oppress'd, is plung'd in thickest gloom. Still horror reigns, a dreary twilight round, Of struggling night and day malignant mix'd. For to the hot equator crowding fast, Where, highly rarefied, the yielding air Admits their stream, incessant vapors roll, Amazing clouds on clouds continual heap'd; Or whirl'd tempestuous by the gusty wind, Or silent borne along, heavy and slow, With the big stores of steaming oceans charg'd. Meantime, amid these upper seas, condens'd Around the cold aerial mountain's brow, And by conflicting winds together dash'd, The thunder holds his black tremendous throne; From cloud to cloud the rending lightnings rage; Till, in the furious elemental war Dissolv'd, the whole precipitated mass Unbroken floods and solid torrents pours.

The treasures these, hid from the bounded search Of ancient knowledge; whence, with annual pomp, Rich king of floods! o'erflows the swelling Nile. From his two springs, in Gojam's sunny realm, Pure-welling out, he through the lucid lake Of fair Dembia rolls his infant stream. There, by the naiads nurs'd, he sports away His playful youth, amid the fragrant isles That with unfading verdure smile around. Ambitious, thence the manly river breaks; And gathering many a flood, and copious fed With all the mellow'd treasures of the sky, Winds in progressive majesty along: Through splendid kingdoms now devolves his maze; Now wanders wild o'er solitary tracts Of life-deserted sand: till glad to quit The joyless desert, down the Nubian rocks, From thundering steep to steep, he pours his urn. And Egypt joys beneath the spreading wave.

His brother Niger too, and all the floods In which the full-form'd maids of Afric lave Their jetty limbs; and all that from the tract Of woody mountains stretch'd through gorgeous Ind Fall on Cormandel's coast, or Malabar; From Menam's orient stream, that nightly shines With insect lamps, to where aurora sheds On Indus' smiling banks the rosy shower; All, at this bounteous season, ope their urns, And pour untoiling harvest o'er the land.

Nor less thy world, Columbus, drinks, refresh'd The lavish moisture of the melting year. Wide e'er his isles, the branching Orinoque Rolls a brown deluge; and the native drives To dwell aloft on life-sufficing trees-- At once his dome, his robe, his food, and arms. Swell'd by a thousand streams, impetuous hurl'd From all the roaring Andes, huge descends The mighty Orellana. Scarce the muse Dares stretch her wing o'er this enormous mass Of rushing water; scarces she dares attempt The sea-like Plata; to whose dread expanse, Continuous depth, and wondrous length of course, Our floods are rills. With unabated force, In silent dignity they sweep along; And traverse realms unknown, and blooming wilds, And fruitful deserts--worlds of solitude, Where the sun smiles and Seasons teem in vain, Unseen and unenjoyed. Forsaking these, O'er peopled plains they fair-diffusive flow, And many a nation feed, and circle safe, In their soft bosom, many a happy isle; The seat of blameless Pan, yet undisturbed By Christian crimes and Europe's cruel sons. Thus pouring on they proudly seek the deep, Whose vanquish'd tide, recoiling from the shock, Yields to this liquid weight of half the globe; And ocean trembles for his green domain.

But what avails this wondrous waste of wealth, This gay profusion of luxurious bliss, This pomp of Nature? what their balmy meads. Their powerful herbs, and Ceres void of pain? By vagrant birds dispers'd, and wafting winds. What their unplanted fruits? what the cool draughts, The ambrosial food, rich gums, and spicy health, Their forests yield? their toiling insects what, Their silky pride, and vegetable robes? Ah! what avail their fatal treasures, hid Deep in the bowels of the pitying earth, Golconda's gems, and sad Potosi's mines? Where dwelt the gentlest children of the sun! What all that Afric's golden rivers roll, Her odorous woods, and shining ivory stores? Ill-fated race! the softening arts of peace, Whate'er the humanizing muses teach; The godlike wisdom of the tempered breast; Progressive truth, the patient force of thought; Investigation calm, whose silent powers Command the world; the light that leads to Heaven; Kind equal rule, the government of laws, And all-protecting freedom, which alone Sustains the name and dignity of man: These are not theirs. The parent sun himself Seems o'er this world of slaves to tyrannize; And, with oppressive ray, the roseate bloom Of beauty blasting, gives the gloomy hue, And feature gross; or worse, to ruthless deeds, Mad jealousy, blind rage, and fell revenge, Their fervid spirit fires. Love dwells not there, The soft regards, the tenderness of life, The heart-shed tear, the ineffable delight Of sweet humanity: these court the beam Of milder climes; in selfish fierce desire, And the wild fury of voluptuous sense, There lost. The very brute creation there This rage partakes, and burns with horrid fire.

Lo! the green serpent, from his dark abode, Which even imagination fears to tread, At noon forth-issuing, gathers up his train In orbs immense, then, darting out anew, Seeks the refreshing fount, by which diffus'd He throws his folds; and while, with threatening tongue And dreadful jaws erect, the monster curls His flaming crest, all other thirst appall'd, Or shivering flies, or check'd at distance stands, Nor dares approach. But still more direful he, The small close-lurking minister of fate, Whose high concocted venom through the veins A rapid lightning darts, arresting swift The vital current. Form'd to humble man, This child of vengeful Nature! There, sublim'd To fearless lust of blood, the savage race Roam, licens'd by the shading hour of guilt, And foul misdeed, when the pure day has shut His sacred eye. The tiger, darting fierce, Impetuous on the prey his glance has doom'd; The lively-shining leopard, speckled o'er With many a spot, the beauty of the waste; And, scorning all the taming arts of man, The keen hyena, fellest of the fell: These, rushing from the inhospitable woods Of Mauritania, or the tufted isles That verdant rise amid the Libyan wild, Innumerous glare around their shaggy king, Majestic, stalking o'er the printed sand; And, with imperious and repeated roars, Demand their fated food. The fearful flocks Crowd near the guardian swain; the nobler herds, Where round their lordly bull, in rural ease, They ruminating lie, with horror hear The coming rage. The awaken'd village starts; And to her fluttering breast the mother strains Her thoughtless infant. From the pirate's den, Or stern Morocco's tyrant fang, escap'd, The wretch half-wishes for his bonds again; While, uproar all, the wilderness resounds, From Atlas eastward to the frighted Nile.

Unhappy he! who from the first of joys, Society, cut off, is left alone Amid this world of death. Day after day, Sad on the jutting eminence he sits, And views the main that ever toils below; Still fondly forming in the farthest verge, Where the round ether mixes with the wave, Ships, dim-discovered, dropping from the clouds. At evening, to the setting sun he turns A mournful eye, and down his dying heart Sinks helpless; while the wonted roar is up, And hiss continual through the tedious night. Yet here, even here, into these black abodes Of monsters, unappall'd, from stooping Rome, And guilty Cæsar, Liberty retired, Her Cato following through Numidian wilds; Disdainful of Campania's gentle plains And all the green delights Ausonia pours-- When for them she must bend the servile knee, And fawning take the splendid robber's boon.

Nor stop the terrors of these regions here. Commission'd demons oft, angels of wrath, Let loose the raging elements. Breath'd hot From all the boundless furnace of the sky, And the wide glittering waste of burning sand, A suffocating wind the pilgrim smites With instant death. Patient of thirst and toil, Son of the desert! even the camel feels, Shot through his wither'd heart, the fiery blast. Or from the black-red ether, bursting broad, Sallies the sudden whirlwind. Straight the sands, Commov'd around, in gathering eddies play; Nearer and nearer still they darkening come, Till, with the general all-involving storm Swept up, the whole continuous wilds arise; And by their noonday fount dejected thrown, Or sunk at night in sad disastrous sleep, Beneath descending hills, the caravan Is buried deep. In Cairo's crowded streets The impatient merchant, wondering, waits in vain, And Mecca saddens at the long delay.

But chief at sea, whose every flexile wave Obeys the blast, the aerial tumult swells. In the dread ocean, undulating wide, Beneath the radiant line that girts the globe, The circling Typhon, whirl'd from point to point, Exhausting all the rage of all the sky, And dire Ecnephia reign. Amid the heavens, Falsely serene, deep in a cloudy speck Compress'd, the mighty tempest brooding dwells Of no regard save to the skillful eye, Fiery and foul, the small prognostic hangs Aloft, or on the promontory's brow Musters its force. A faint deceitful calm, A fluttering gale, the demon sends before, To tempt the spreading sail. Then down at once, Precipitant, descends a mingled mass Of roaring winds, and flame, and rushing floods. In wild amazement fix'd the sailor stands. Art is too slow. By rapid fate oppress'd, His broad-wing'd vessel drinks the whelming tide, Hid in the bosom of the black abyss. With such mad seas the daring Gama fought, For many a day, and many a dreadful night, Incessant, laboring round the _stormy cape_; By bold ambition led, and bolder thirst Of gold. For then, from ancient gloom, emerg'd The rising world of trade: the genius, then, Of navigation, that in hopeless sloth Had slumber'd on the vast Atlantic deep For idle ages, starting, heard at last The Lusitanian prince; who, heaven-inspired, To love of useful glory rous'd mankind, And in unbounded commerce mixed the world.

Increasing still the terrors of these storms, His jaws horrific arm'd with threefold fate, Here dwells the direful shark. Lur'd by the scent Of steaming crowds, of rank disease, and death, Behold! he rushing cuts the briny flood, Swift as the gale can bear the ship along; And from the partners of that cruel trade Which spoils unhappy Guinea of her sons, Demands his share of prey--demands themselves. The stormy fates descend: one death involves Tyrants and slaves; when straight their mangled limbs Crashing at once, he dyes the purple seas With gore, and riots in the vengeful meal.

When o'er this world, by equinoctial rains Flooded immense, looks out the joyless sun, And draws the copious steam; from swampy fens, Where putrefaction into life ferments, And breathes destructive myriads; or from woods, Impenetrable shades, recesses foul, In vapors rank and blue corruption wrapp'd, Whose gloomy horrors yet no desperate foot Has ever dar'd to pierce--then, wasteful, forth Walks the dire power of pestilent disease. A thousand hideous fiends her course attend, Sick nature blasting, and a heartless woe, And feeble desolation, casting down The towering hopes and all the pride of man. Such as, of late, at Carthagena quench'd The British fire. You, gallant Vernon, saw The miserable scene; you, pitying, saw To infant weakness sunk the warrior's arm; Saw the deep-racking pang, the ghastly form, The lip pale-quivering, and the beamless eye No more with ardor bright; you heard the groans Of agonizing ships, from shore to shore; Heard, nightly plung'd amid the sullen waves, The frequent corse--while on each other fix'd, In sad presage, the blank assistants seemed, Silent, to ask, whom fate would next demand.

What need I mention those inclement skies Where, frequent o'er the sickening city, plague, The fiercest child of Nemesis divine, Descends? From Ethiopia's poison'd woods, From stifled Cairo's filth, and fetid fields With locust-armies putrefying heap'd, This great destroyer sprung. Her awful rage The brutes escape. Man is her destin'd prey, Intemperate man! and o'er his guilty domes She draws a close incumbent cloud of death; Uninterrupted by the living winds, Forbid to blow a wholesome breeze; and stain'd With many a mixture by the sun, suffus'd, Of angry aspect. Princely wisdom, then, Dejects his watchful eye; and from the hand Of feeble justice, ineffectual, drop The sword and balance: mute the voice of joy, And hush'd the clamor of the busy world. Empty the streets, with uncouth verdure clad. Into the worst of deserts sudden turn'd The cheerful haunt of men--unless escap'd From the doom'd house, where matchless horror reigns, Shut up by barbarous fear, the smitten wretch, With frenzy wild, breaks loose, and loud to Heaven Screaming, the dreadful policy arraigns, Inhuman and unwise. The sullen door, Yet uninfected, on its cautious hinge Fearing to turn, abhors society. Dependents, friends, relations, Love himself, Savag'd by woe, forget the tender tie, The sweet engagement of the feeling heart. But vain their selfish care: the circling sky, The wide enlivening air is full of fate; And, struck by turns, in solitary pangs They fall, unblest, untended, and unmourn'd. Thus o'er the prostrate city black despair Extends her raven wing; while, to complete The scene of desolation, stretch'd around, The grim guards stand, denying all retreat, And give the flying wretch a better death.

Much yet remains unsung: the rage intense Of brazen-vaulted skies, of iron fields, Where drought and famine starve the blasted year; Fir'd by the torch of noon to tenfold rage, The infuriate hill that shoots the pillar'd flame; And, rous'd within the subterranean world, The expanding earthquake, that resistless shakes Aspiring cities from their solid base, And buries mountains in the flaming gulf. But 'tis enough; return, my vagrant muse: A nearer scene of horror calls thee home.

Behold, slow-settling o'er the lurid grove, Unusual darkness broods; and growing gains The full possession of the sky, surcharg'd With wrathful vapor, from the secret beds, Where sleep the mineral generations, drawn. Thence nitre, sulphur, and the fiery spume Of fat bitumen, steaming on the day, With various-tinctur'd trains of latent flame, Pollute the sky, and in yon baleful cloud, A reddening gloom, a magazine of fate, Ferment; till, by the touch ethereal rous'd, The dash of clouds, or irritating war Of fighting winds, while all is calm below, They furious spring. A boding silence reigns, Dread through the dun expanse; save the dull sound That from the mountain, previous to the storm, Rolls o'er the muttering earth, disturbs the flood, And shakes the forest leaf without a breath. Prone, to the lowest vale, the aerial tribes Descend: the tempest-loving raven scarce Dares wing the dubious dusk. In rueful gaze The cattle stand, and on the scowling heavens Cast a deploring eye; by man forsook, Who to the crowded cottage hies him fast, Or seeks the shelter of the downward cave.

'Tis listening fear, and dumb amazement all: When to the startled eye the sudden glance Appears far south, eruptive through the cloud; And following slower, in explosion vast, The thunder raises his tremendous voice. At first, heard solemn o'er the verge of heaven, The tempest growls; but as it nearer comes, And rolls its awful burden on the wind, The lightnings flash a larger curve, and more The noise astounds--till overhead a sheet Of livid flame discloses wide, then shuts And opens wider, shuts and opens still Expansive, wrapping ether in a blaze. Follows the loosen'd aggravated roar, Enlarging, deepening, mingling, peal on peal Crush'd horrible, convulsing heaven and earth.

Down comes a deluge of sonorous hail, Or prone-descending rain. Wide-rent, the clouds Pour a whole flood; and yet, its flame unquench'd The unconquerable lightning struggles through, Ragged and fierce, or in red whirling balls, And fires the mountains with redoubled rage. Black from the stroke, above, the smouldering pine Stands a sad shatter'd trunk; and, stretch'd below, A lifeless group the blasted cattle lie: Here the soft flocks, with that same harmless look They wore alive, and ruminating still In fancy's eye; and there the frowning bull, And ox half-rais'd. Struck on the castled cliff, The venerable tower and spiry fane Resign their aged pride. The gloomy woods Start at the flash, and from their deep recess, Wide-flaming out, their trembling inmates shade Amid Caernarvon's mountains rages loud The repercussive roar; with mighty crush, Into the flashing deep, from the rude rocks Of Penmaenmawr heap'd hideous to the sky, Tumble the smitten cliffs; and Snowdon's peak, Dissolving, instant yields his wintry load. Far-seen, the heights of heathy Cheviot blaze, And Thulè bellows through her utmost isles.

Guilt hears appall'd, with deeply troubled thought, And yet not always on the guilty head Descends the fated flash. Young Celadon And his Amelia were a matchless pair; With equal virtue form'd, and equal grace, The same, distinguish'd by their sex alone: Hers the mild lustre of the blooming morn, And his the radiance of the risen day.

They lov'd: but such their guileless passion was, As in the dawn of time inform'd the heart Of innocence, and undissembling truth. 'Twas friendship heighten'd by the mutual wish, The enchanting hope, and sympathetic glow, Beam'd from the mutual eye. Devoting all To love, each was to each a dearer self; Supremely happy in the awaken'd power Of giving joy. Alone, amid the shades, Still in harmonious intercourse they liv'd The rural day, and talk'd the flowing heart, Or sigh'd and look'd unutterable things.

So pass'd their life, a clear united stream, By care unruffled; till, in evil hour, The tempest caught them on the tender walk, Heedless how far, and where its mazes stray'd, While, with each other bless'd, creative love Still bade eternal Eden smile around. Heavy with instant fate, her bosom heav'd Unwonted sighs, and stealing oft a look Of the big gloom, on Celadon her eye Fell tearful, wetting her disorder'd cheek. In vain assuring love, and confidence In Heaven, repress'd her fear; it grew, and shook Her frame near dissolution. He perceiv'd The unequal conflict; and, as angels look On dying saints, his eyes compassion shed, With love illumin'd high. "Fear not," he said, "Sweet innocence! thou stranger to offense, And inward storm! He who yon skies involves In frowns and darkness, ever smiles on thee With kind regard. O'er thee the secret shaft That wastes at midnight, or the undreaded hour Of noon, flies harmless; and that very voice Which thunders terror through the guilty heart, With tongues of seraphs whispers peace to thine. 'Tis safety to be near thee sure, and thus To clasp perfection!" From his void embrace, Mysterious Heaven! that moment, to the ground, A blacken'd corse, was struck the beauteous maid, But who can paint the lover, as he stood, Pierc'd by severe amazement, hating life, Speechless, and fix'd in all the death of woe! So, faint resemblance, on the marble tomb The well-dissembled mourner stooping stands, Forever silent, and forever sad.

As from the face of heaven the shatter'd clouds Tumultuous rove, the interminable sky Sublimer swells, and o'er the world expands A purer azure. Nature, from the storm, Shines out afresh; and through the lighten'd air A higher lustre and a clearer calm, Diffusive, tremble; while, as if in sign Of danger past, a glittering robe of joy, Set off abundant by the yellow ray, Invests the fields, yet dropping from distress.

'Tis beauty all, and grateful song around, Join'd to the low of kine, and numerous bleat Of flocks thick-nibbling through the clover'd vale. And shall the hymn be marr'd by thankless man, Most-favor'd; who with voice articulate Should lead the chorus of this lower world? Shall he, so soon forgetful of the hand That hush'd the thunder, and serenes the sky, Extinguish'd feel that spark the tempest wak'd, That sense of powers exceeding far his own, Ere yet his feeble heart has lost its fears?

Cheer'd by the milder beam, the sprightly youth Speeds to the well-known pool, whose crystal depth A sandy bottom shows. Awhile he stands Gazing the inverted landscape, half-afraid To meditate the blue profound below; Then plunges headlong down the circling flood. His ebon tresses and his rosy cheek Instant emerge; and through the obedient wave, At each short breathing by his lip repell'd, With arms and legs according well, he makes, As humor leads, an easy-winding path; While, from his polish'd sides, a dewy light Effuses on the pleas'd spectators round.

This is the purest exercise of health, The kind refresher of the summer heats, Nor, when cold Winter keens the brightening flood, Would I weak-shivering linger on the brink. Thus life redoubles; and is oft preserved, By the bold swimmer, in the swift illapse Of accident disastrous. Hence the limbs Knit into force; and the same Roman arm That rose victorious o'er the conquer'd earth, First learned, while tender, to subdue the wave. Even, from the body's purity, the mind Receives a secret sympathetic aid.

Close in the covert of an hazel copse, Where winded into pleasing solitudes Runs out the rambling dale, young Damon sat; Pensive, and pierc'd with love's delightful pangs. There to the stream that down the distant rocks Hoarse-murmuring fell, and plaintive breeze that play'd Among the bending willows, falsely he Of Musidora's cruelty complain'd. She felt his flame; but deep within her breast, In bashful coyness, or in maiden pride, The soft return conceal'd--save when it stole In sidelong glances from her downcast eye, Or from her swelling soul in stifled sighs. Touched by the scene, no stranger to his vows, He fram'd a melting lay, to try her heart; And, if an infant passion struggled there, To call that passion forth. Thrice-happy swain! A lucky chance, that oft decides the fate Of mighty monarchs, then decided thine. For, lo! conducted by the laughing Loves, This cool retreat his Musidora sought: Warm in her cheek the sultry season glow'd; And, rob'd in loose array, she came to bathe Her fervent limbs in the refreshing stream. What shall he do? In sweet confusion lost, And dubious flutterings, he awhile remain'd. A pure ingenuous elegance of soul, A delicate refinement known to few, Perplex'd his breast, and urg'd him to retire; But love forbade. Ye prudes in virtue, say, Say, ye severest, what would you have done? Meantime, this fairer nymph than ever bless'd Arcadian stream, with timid eye around The banks surveying, stripp'd her beauteous limbs To taste the lucid coolness of the flood. Ah! then, not Paris on the piny top Of Ida panted stronger, when aside The rival goddesses the vail divine Cast unconfin'd, and gave him all their charms, Than, Damon, thou; as from the snowy leg, And slender foot, the inverted silk she drew; As the soft touch dissolv'd the virgin zone; And, through the parting robe, the alternate breast, With youth wild-throbbing, on thy lawless gaze In full luxuriance rose. But, desperate youth, How durst thou risk the soul-distracting view, As from her naked limbs, of glowing white, Harmonious swell'd by Nature's finest hand, In folds loose-floating fell the fainter lawn, And fair expos'd she stood--shrunk from herself, With fancy blushing, at the doubtful breeze Alarm'd, and starting like the fearful fawn? Then to the flood she rush'd: the parted flood Its lovely guest with closing waves received, And every beauty softening, every grace Flushing anew, a mellow lustre shed-- As shines the lily through the crystal mild, Or as the rose amid the morning dew, Fresh from Aurora's hand, more sweetly glows. While thus she wanton'd now beneath the wave But ill-concealed, and now with streaming locks, That half-embrac'd her in a humid vail, Rising again, the latent Damon drew Such maddening draughts of beauty to the soul, As for a while o'erwhelm'd his raptur'd thought With luxury too daring. Check'd, at last. By love's respectful modesty, he deem'd The theft profane, if aught profane to love Can e'er be deem'd, and, struggling from the shade, With headlong hurry fled; but first these lines, Trac'd by his ready pencil, on the bank With trembling hand he threw: "Bathe on, my fair, Yet unbeheld save by the sacred eye Of faithful love: I go to guard thy haunt; To keep from thy recess each vagrant foot, And each licentious eye." With wild surprise, As if to marble struck, devoid of sense, A stupid moment motionless she stood: So stands the statue that enchants the world: So bending tries to vail the matchless boast, The mingled beauties of exulting Greece. Recovering, swift she flew to find those robes Which blissful Eden knew not; and, array'd In careless haste, the alarming paper snatch'd. But when her Damon's well known hand she saw Her terrors vanish'd, and a softer train Of mix'd emotions, hard to be describ'd, Her sudden bosom seiz'd: shame void of guilt, The charming blush of innocence, esteem And admiration of her lover's flame, By modesty exalted. Even a sense Of self-approving beauty stole across Her busy thought. At length, a tender calm Hushed by degrees the tumult of her soul, And on the spreading beech, that o'er the stream Incumbent hung, she with the sylvan pen Of rural lovers this confession carv'd, Which soon her Damon kiss'd with weeping joy: "Dear youth! sole judge of what these verses mean, By fortune too much favor'd, but by love, Alas! not favor'd less, be still as now Discreet, the time may come you need not fly."

The sun has lost his rage; his downward orb Shoots nothing now but animating warmth, And vital lustre; that, with various ray, Lights up the clouds, those beauteous robes of heaven Incessant roll'd into romantic shapes, The dream of waking fancy! Broad below Cover'd with ripening fruits, and swelling fast Into the perfect year, the pregnant earth And all her tribes rejoice. Now the soft hour Of walking comes: for him who lonely loves To seek the distant hills, and there converse With Nature; there to harmonize his heart, And in pathetic song to breathe around The harmony to others. Social friends, Attun'd to happy unison of soul-- To whose exalting eye a fairer world, Of which the vulgar never had a glimpse, Displays its charms--whose minds are richly fraught With philosophic stores, superior light-- And in whose breast, enthusiastic, burns Virtue the sons of interest deem romance, Now call'd abroad enjoy the falling day: Now to the verdant _portico_ of woods, To Nature's vast _lyceum_, forth they walk; By that kind _school_ where no proud master reigns, The full free converse of the friendly heart, Improving and improv'd. Now from the world, Sacred to sweet retirement, lovers steal, And pour their souls in transport, which the Sire Of love approving hears, and _calls it good_. Which way, Amanda, shall we bend our course? The choice perplexes. Wherefore should we choose? All is the same with thee. Say shall we wind Along the streams? or walk the smiling mead; Or court the forest glades? or wander wild Among the waving harvests? or ascend, While radiant Summer opens all its pride, Thy hill, delightful Sheen? Here let us sweep The boundless landscape; now the raptur'd eye Exulting swift, to huge Augusta send, Now to the sister-hills that skirt her plain To lofty Harrow now, and now to where Majestic Windsor lifts his princely brow. In lovely contrast to this glorious view, Calmly magnificent, then will we turn To where the silver Thames first rural grows. There let the feasted eye unwearied stray; Luxurious, there, rove through the pendent woods That nodding hang o'er Harrington's retreat, And stooping thence to Ham's embowering walks, Beneath whose shades, in spotless peace retir'd, With her the pleasing partner of his heart, The worthy Queensbury yet laments his Gay, And polish'd Cornbury woos the willing muse, Slow let us trace the matchless vale of Thames-- Fair-winding up to where the muses haunt In Twit'nam's bowers, and for their Pope implore The healing god, to royal Hampton's pile, To Clermont's terrac'd height, and Esher's groves, Where in the sweetest solitude, embrac'd By the soft windings of the silent Mole, From courts and senates Pelham finds repose. Enchanting vale! beyond whate'er the muse Has of Achaia or Hesperia sung! O vale of bliss! O softly swelling hills! On which the power of cultivation lies, And joys to see the wonders of his toil.

Heavens! what a goodly prospect spreads around, Of hills, and dales, and woods, and lawns, and spires, And glittering towns, and gilded streams, till all The stretching landscape into smoke decays! Happy Britannia! where the queen of arts, Inspiring vigor, liberty abroad Walks, unconfin'd, even to thy farthest cots, And scatters plenty, with unsparing hand.

Rich is thy soil, and merciful thy clime: Thy streams unfailing in the Summer's drought Unmatch'd thy guardian oaks; thy valleys float With golden waves; and on thy mountains flocks Bleat numberless--while, roving round their sides, Bellow the blackening herds in lusty droves. Beneath, thy meadows glow, and rise unquell'd Against the mower's scythe. On every hand Thy villas shine. Thy country teems with wealth And property assures it to the swain, Pleas'd and unwearied in his guarded toil.

Full are thy cities with the sons of art; And trade and joy, in every busy street, Mingling are heard: even drudgery himself. As at the car he sweats, or dusty hews The palace-stone, looks gay. Thy crowded ports, Where rising masts an endless prospect yield, With labor burn, and echo to the shouts Of hurried sailor, as he hearty waves His last adieu, and, loosening every sheet, Resigns the spreading vessel to the wind.

Bold, firm, and graceful, are thy generous youth By hardship sinew'd, and by danger fir'd, Scattering the nations where they go; and first, Or in the listed plain, or stormy seas. Mild are thy glories too, as o'er the plans Of thriving peace thy thoughtful sires preside; In genius, and substantial learning, high; For every virtue, every worth, renown'd; Sincere, plain-hearted, hospitable, kind; Yet like the mustering thunder when provok'd, The dread of tyrants, and the sole resource Of those that under grim oppression groan.

Thy sons of glory many! Alfred thine, In whom the splendor of heroic war And more heroic peace, when govern'd well, Combine; whose hallow'd name the virtues saint, And his own muses love--the best of kings. With him thy Edwards and thy Henrys shine, Names dear to fame, the first who deep impress'd On haughty Gaul the terror of thy arms, That awes her genius still. In statesmen thou, And patriots, fertile. Thine a steady More, Who, with a generous though mistaken zeal, Withstood a brutal tyrant's useful rage, Like Cato firm, like Aristides just, Like rigid Cincinnatus nobly poor-- A dauntless soul erect, who smil'd on death. Frugal and wise, a Walsingham is thine; A Drake, who made thee mistress of the deep, And bore thy name in thunder round the world. Then flam'd thy spirit high; but who can speak The numerous worthies of the maiden-reign? In Raleigh mark their every glory mix'd; Raleigh, the scourge of Spain; whose breast with all The sage, the patriot, and the hero burn'd. Nor sunk his vigor when a coward reign The warrior fetter'd, and at last resign'd, To glut the vengeance of a vanquish'd foe. Then, active still and unrestrain'd, his mind Explor'd the vast extent of ages past, And with his prison-hours enrich'd the world; Yet found no times, in all the long research, So glorious, or so base, as those he prov'd, In which he conquer'd, and in which he bled. Nor can the muse the gallant Sidney pass, The plume of war! with early laurels crown'd, The lover's myrtle, and the poet's bay. A Hampden too is thine, illustrious land, Wise, strenuous, firm, of unsubmitting soul, Who stemm'd the torrent of a downward age To slavery prone, and bade thee rise again, In all thy native pomp of freedom bold. Bright, at his call, thy age of men effulg'd; Of men on whom late time a kindling eye Shall turn, and tyrants tremble while they read. Bring every sweetest flower, and let me strew The grave where Russell lies; whose temper'd blood, With calmest cheerfulness for thee resign'd, Stain'd the sad annals of a giddy reign-- Aiming at lawless power, though meanly sunk In loose inglorious luxury. With him His friend, the British Cassius, fearless bled; Of high determin'd spirit, roughly brave, By ancient learning to the enlighten'd love Of ancient freedom warm'd. Fair thy renown In awful sages and in noble bards Soon as the light of dawning science spread Her orient ray, and wak'd the muses' song. Thine is a Bacon, hapless in his choice; Unfit to stand the civil storm of state, And through the smooth barbarity of courts, With firm but pliant virtue, forward still To urge his course. Him for the studious shade Kind Nature form'd, deep, comprehensive, clear, Exact, and elegant; in one rich soul, Plato, the Stagyrite, and Tully join'd. The great deliverer he! who from the gloom Of cloister'd monks, and jargon-teaching schools, Led forth the true philosophy, there long Held in the magic chain of words and forms, And definitions void: he led her forth, Daughter of heaven! that slow-ascending still, Investigating sure the chain of things, With radiant finger points to heaven again. The generous Ashley thine, the friend of man; Who scann'd his nature with a brother's eye, His weakness prompt to shade, to raise his aim, To touch the finer movements of the mind, And with the _moral beauty_ charm the heart Why need I name thy Boyle, whose pious search, Amid the dark recesses of his works, The great Creator sought? And why thy Locke, Who made the whole internal world his own? Let Newton, pure intelligence, whom God To mortals lent, to trace his boundless works From laws sublimely simple, speak thy fame In all philosophy. For lofty sense, Creative fancy, and inspection keen Through the deep windings of the human heart, Is not wild Shakspeare thine and Nature's boast? Is not each great, each amiable muse Of classic ages, in thy Milton met? A genius universal as his theme, Astonishing as chaos, as the bloom Of blowing Eden fair, as heaven sublime. Nor shall my verse that elder bard forget, The gentle Spenser, fancy's pleasing son, Who, like a copious river, pour'd his song O'er all the mazes of enchanted ground; Nor thee, his ancient master, laughing sage, Chaucer, whose native manners painting verse, Well moraliz'd, shines through the Gothic cloud Of time and language o'er thy genius thrown.

May my song soften, as thy daughters I, Britannia, hail! for beauty is their own, The feeling heart, simplicity of life, And elegance, and taste; the faultless form, Shap'd by the hand of harmony; the cheek, Where the live crimson, through the native white Soft-shooting, o'er the face diffuses bloom, And every nameless grace; the parted lip, Like the red rose-bud moist with morning dew, Breathing delight; and, under flowing jet, Or sunny ringlets, or of circling brown, The neck slight-shaded, and the swelling breast, The look resistless, piercing to the soul, And by the soul informed, when dress'd in love She sits high-smiling in the conscious eye.

Island of bliss! amid the subject seas That thunder round thy rocky coasts, set up, At once the wonder, terror, and delight Of distant nations; whose remotest shore Can soon be shaken by thy naval arm; Not to be shook thyself, but all assaults Baffling, like thy hoar cliffs the loud sea-wave.

O Thou by whose almighty nod the scale Of empire rises, or alternate falls, Send forth the saving virtues round the land, In bright patrol: white peace, and social love; The tender-looking charity, intent On gentle deeds, and shedding tears through smiles Undaunted truth, and dignity of mind; Courage compos'd, and keen; sound temperance, Healthful in heart and look; clear chastity, With blushes reddening as she moves along, Disorder'd at the deep regard she draws; Rough industry; activity untir'd, With copious life inform'd, and all awake; While in the radiant front, superior shines That first paternal virtue, public zeal-- Who throws o'er all an equal wide survey, And, ever musing on the common weal, Still labors glorious with some great design.

Low walks the sun, and broadens by degrees, Just o'er the verge of day. The shifting clouds Assembled gay, a richly gorgeous train, In all their pomp attend his setting throne. Air, earth, and ocean smile immense. And now As if his weary chariot sought the bowers Of Amphitritè and her tending nymphs, (So Grecian fable sung) he dips his orb; Now half immers'd; and now a golden curve; Gives one bright glance, then total disappears Forever running an enchanted round, Passes the day, deceitful, vain, and void; As fleets the vision o'er the formful brain, This moment hurrying wild the impassion'd soul, The next in nothing lost. 'Tis so to him, The dreamer of this earth, an idle blank: A sight of horror to the cruel wretch Who, all day long in sordid pleasure roll'd, Himself an useless load, has squander'd vile, Upon his scoundrel train, what might have cheer'd A drooping family of modest worth. But to the generous still-improving mind, That gives the hopeless heart to sing for joy, Diffusing kind beneficence around, Boastless, as now descends the silent dew-- To him the long review of order'd life Is inward rapture, only to be felt.

Confess'd from yonder slow-extinguish'd clouds, All ether softening, sober evening takes Her wonted station in the middle air; A thousand shadows at her beck. First this She sends on earth; then that of deeper dye Steals soft behind, and then a deeper still, In circle following circle, gathers round, To close the face of things. A fresher gale Begins to wave the wood, and stir the stream, Sweeping with shadowy gust the fields of corn; While the quail clamors for his running mate, Wide o'er the thistly lawn, as swells the breeze, A whitening shower of vegetable down Amusive floats. The kind impartial care Of Nature naught disdains: thoughtful to feed Her lowest sons, and clothe the coming year, From field to field the feather'd seeds she wings.

His folded flock secure, the shepherd home Hies, merry-hearted; and by turns relieves The ruddy milkmaid of her brimming pail; The beauty whom perhaps his witless heart, Unknowing what the joy-mix'd anguish means Sincerely loves, by that best language shown Of cordial glances and obliging deeds. Onward they pass, o'er many a panting height, And valley sunk, and unfrequented; where At fall of eve the fairy people throng, In various game and revelry to pass The summer night, as village stories tell. But far about they wander from the grave Of him, whom his ungentle fortune urg'd Against his own sad breast to lift the hand Of impious violence. The lonely tower Is also shunn'd; whose mournful chambers hold, So night-struck fancy dreams, the yelling ghost.

Among the crooked lanes, on every hedge, The glow-worm lights his gem; and, through the dark, A moving radiance twinkles. Evening yields The world to night; not in her winter robe Of massy Stygian woof, but loose array'd In mantle dun. A faint erroneous ray, Glanc'd from the imperfect surfaces of things, Flings half an image on the straining eye; While wavering woods, and villages, and streams, And rocks, and mountain tops, that long retain'd The ascending gleam, are all one swimming scene, Uncertain if beheld. Sudden to heaven Thence weary vision turns; where, leading soft The silent hours of love, with purest ray Sweet Venus shines; and from her genial rise When daylight sickens, till it springs afresh, Unrival'd reigns, the fairest lamp of night. As thus the effulgence tremulous I drink With cherish'd gaze, the lambent lightnings shoot Across the sky; or horizontal dart, In wondrous shapes--by fearful murmuring crowds Portentous deem'd. Amid the radiant orbs That more than deck, that animate the sky, The life-infusing suns of other worlds, Lo! from the dread immensity of space Returning, with accelerated course, The rushing cornet to the sun descends; And as he sinks below the shading earth, With awful train projected o'er the heavens, The guilty nations tremble. But, above Those superstitious horrors that enslave The fond sequacious herd, to mystic faith And blind amazement prone, the enliven'd few, Whose god-like minds philosophy exalts, The glorious stranger hail. They feel a joy Divinely great: they in their powers exult, That wondrous force of thought which mounting spurns This dusky spot and measures all the sky, While from his far excursion through the wilds Of barren ether, faithful to his time, They see the blazing wonder rise anew, In seeming terror clad, but kindly bent To work the will of all sustaining Love; From his huge vapory train perhaps to shake Reviving moisture on the numerous orbs Through which his long ellipsis winds--perhaps To lend new fuel to declining suns, To light up worlds, and feed eternal fire.

With thee, serene philosophy, with thee, And thy bright garland, let me crown my song! Effusive source of evidence, and truth! A lustre shedding o'er the ennobled mind, Stronger than summer noon; and pure as that Whose mild vibrations soothe the parted soul, New to the dawning of celestial day. Hence through her nourish'd powers, enlarg'd by thee, She springs aloft, with elevated pride, Above the tangling mass of low desires That bind the fluttering crowd; and, angel-wing'd. The heights of science and of virtue gains, Where all is calm and clear; with nature round, Or in the starry regions, or the abyss, To reason's and to fancy's eye display'd: The first up-tracing, from the dreary void, The chain of causes and effects to him, The world-producing Essence, who alone Possesses being; while the last receives The whole magnificence of heaven and earth, And every beauty, delicate or bold, Obvious or more remote, with livelier sense, Diffusive painted on the rapid mind.

Tutor'd by thee, hence poetry exalts Her voice to ages; and informs the page With music, image, sentiment, and thought, Never to die! the treasure of mankind, Their highest honor, and their truest joy!

Without thee, what were unenlighten'd man? A savage roaming through the woods and wilds, In quest of prey; and with the unfashion'd fur Rough-clad; devoid of every finer art, And elegance of life. Nor happiness Domestic, mix'd of tenderness and care, Nor moral excellence, nor social bliss, Nor guardian law, were his; nor various skill To turn the furrow, or to guide the tool Mechanic; nor the heaven-conducted prow Of navigation bold, that fearless braves The burning line or dares the wintry pole, Mother severe of infinite delights! Nothing, save rapine, indolence, and guile, And woes on woes, a still revolving train! Whose horrid circle had made human life Than non-existence worse; but, taught by thee, Ours are the plans of policy and peace: To live like brothers, and conjunctive all Embellish life. While thus laborious crowds Ply the tough oar, philosophy directs The ruling helm; or, like the liberal breath Of potent heaven, invisible, the sail Swells out, and bears the inferior world along.

Nor to this evanescent speck of earth Poorly confin'd--the radiant tracts on high Are her exalted range; intent to gaze Creation through; and, from that full complex Of never-ending wonders, to conceive Of the Sole Being right, who _spoke the word_, And nature mov'd complete. With inward view Thence on the ideal kingdom swift she turns Her eye; and instant, at her powerful glance, The obedient phantoms vanish or appear; Compound, divide, and into order shift, Each to his rank, from plain perception up To the fair forms of fancy's fleeting train; To reason then, deducing truth from truth, And notion quite abstract; where first begins The world of spirits, action all, and life Unfetter'd, and unmix'd. But here the cloud, So wills Eternal Providence, sits deep. Enough for us to know that this dark state, In wayward passions lost, and vain pursuits, This infancy of being, can not prove The final issue of the works of God, By boundless Love and perfect Wisdom form'd, And ever rising with the rising mind.

THE SIGHT OF AN ANGEL.

'Tis to create, and in creating live A being more intense, that we endow With form our fancy, gaining as we give The life we image.

The date of the year was--no matter what; the day of the month was--no matter what; when a great general undertook to perform a great victory--a great statesman undertook to pass a great political measure--a great diplomatist undertook a most important mission--a great admiral undertook the command of a great fleet; all which great undertakings were commanded by the very same great monarch of a very great nation. At the same time did a great nobleman give a great entertainment at a great house, and a great beauty made a great many great conquests. On the same day, in the same year, in a very small room, in a very small house, in a very small street, in a very small town in Germany, did a very poor mason commence a very rude carving on a very rough stone. All the public journals of the day told a thousand times over the names of the great general, the great statesman, the great diplomatist, the great admiral, and the great monarch; all the fashionable papers of the day did the same of the great nobleman, the great company, and the great beauty: but none of them spoke of poor Johan Schmit, of the little town of ----, on the Rhine.

Many years had passed away, and the date of the year was--no matter what; but history was telling of a great general who, with consummate wisdom, courage, and skill, and at the cost of numberless nameless lives, gained a great victory, which determined the fate and fortune of a great monarch and a great nation; consequently affecting the fate and fortunes of the world. It entered into minute detail of how his forces were disposed; where lay the right wing, where lay the left; where the cavalry advanced, and how the infantry sustained the attack; how the guns of the artillery played upon the enemy's flank and rear; and how the heavy dragoons rode down the routed forces, and how, finally, the field was covered with the enemy's dead and wounded, while so few of "our own troops" were left for the kite and the carrion crow. Then did history speak of the honors that awaited and rewarded the triumphant hero, of the clamorous homage of his grateful country, and the approving smiles of his grateful monarch; of the _fêtes_, the banquets, the triumphal processions, all in his honor; of the new titles, the lands, estates, and riches poured upon him; of the state and luxury in which he lived: until the tolling of every bell throughout the kingdom, the eight-horse hearse, the mile-long procession, the Dead March in "Saul," and the volley over the grave, announced that a public statue, on a column a hundred feet high, in the largest square of the largest town, was all that could now record the name of the greatest general of the greatest nation in the world.

History then spoke of a great statesman who on a certain day in a certain year, passed a certain most important measure, affecting the interest of a great nation, and consequently of the whole world. It spoke of his wisdom and foresight, the result of great intellect, energy and labor, giving a biographic sketch of his career from cradle to coffin; dismissing him with a long eulogium on his talents, integrity, and activity, and lamenting the loss such great men were to their country. Then came the name of the great diplomatist whose services had been equally important, and who was dismissed with a similar memoir and eulogium. Then the great admiral, who lived through a whole chapter all to himself, and had his name brought in throughout the whole history of the great monarch whose reign had been rendered so brilliant by the great deeds of so many great men. Of the great feast given by the great nobleman, and the conquests of the great beauty, there remains to this day a record, of the former in the adulatory poems of his flatterers, though the giver was gone--no matter where; of the latter many fair portraits and many fond sonnets, though the object had gone--no matter where. But no scribe told the history, no poet made a sonnet, no artist drew the portrait of poor Johan Schmit, the mason, who made the rude carving on the rough stone in the little town of ----, on the Rhine. This task remains for an historian as obscure as himself, who now begins a rude carving on the rough stone of a human life.

After the example of the great historian already alluded to, I shall touch but lightly on the early history of my hero; merely stating that thirty years before the present date, Johan Schmit was born to Johan Schmit the elder, by his wife Gretchen, after a similar presentation of five others; that he got through the usual maladies childhood is heir to, and was at the age of fifteen apprenticed to Herman Schwartz, a master-builder in the town of Bonn. There, after some years of hod-carrying, mortar-spreading, and stone-cutting--ascending steadily, both literally and metaphorically, the ladder of his profession--honest Johan took a prudent, diligent woman to wife, who lost no time in making him the father of three thriving heirs to his house and his hod. Johan was in tolerably good work, lived in the small house in the small street already mentioned, and kept his family, without much pinching on the part of the thrifty Gertrude, in their beer, thick bread, and sauerkraut. His work, his wife, his children, and his two companions, Karl Vratz, and Caspar Katzheim, with whom he drank very hoppy beer at the "Gold Apfel," just round the corner of the street, comprised the whole interests which occupied the heart and brain of Johan Schmit, of the little town of ----, on the Rhine. Johan had no other idea in his head when he rose in the morning than the day's work, the same as it was yesterday, and would be to-morrow; no other thought when he returned from it in the evening than that Frudchen had his supper ready for him, that little Wilhelm and Johan would run to meet him, and that little Rosechen, the baby, would crow out of her cradle at him, if awake, and that after his supper he would just walk down to the "Gold Apfel," and smoke a pipe with Karl and Caspar as usual. But Johan went to church occasionally with his wife, going through his routine of crossings, genuflexions, and sprinklings with holy water as orderly as any man. He heard the priest speak of doing his duty and obeying the church. Johan believed he did both; his duty--hard work--lay plainly before him; he was honest, sober, and kind to his family, and had certainly no idea or intention of disobeying the church. Thus, in a monotonous task of hard labor for daily bread and the support of an increasing family, plodded contentedly away the life of Johan Schmit of the little town of ----, on the Rhine.

But there is an era in the life of every one, even the most plodding and homely; and so it was with Johan Schmit. It happened one day that he was sent for to repair a broken wall in the château of the Count von Rosenheim, situated not far from the town where Johan lived, on the Rhine; and having completed his job, the housekeeper (the count being absent) took the poor mason through the splendid rooms as a treat. Here he beheld what he had never seen in his life before; velvet curtains, silken sofas, crystal mirrors, gilded frames, paintings, and sculpture; until his eyes were more dazzled than they had been since the first time he entered the cathedral of Bonn. But after gazing his fill upon all this gorgeous spectacle, his eyes happened to fall upon a small bronze statuette of an angel, which the housekeeper informed him was a copy of the Archangel Michael, from some church, she knew not where.

Here was Johan arrested, and here would he have stood forever; for, after looking upon this angel, he saw nothing more: every thing vanished from before him, and nothing remained but the small bronze statuette. Johan had seen plenty of angels before in the churches, fresh-colored, chubby children, and he often thought his own little Rosechen would look just like them if she had wings; but this was something far different. A youth under twenty, and yet it gave no more idea of either age or sex than of any other earthly condition. Clad in what Johan supposed would represent luminous scale-armor, something dazzling and transparent, like what he had heard the priests call the "armor of God"--the hands crossed upon the bosom, the head slightly bowed, the attitude so full of awe, obedience, and humility; and yet what attitude of human pride or defiance was half so lofty, so noble, so dignified? The sword hung sheathed by the side, the long wings folded; but the face--oh, how could he describe that face, so full of high earnestness and holy calm? so bright, so serious, so serene! He felt awed, calmed, and elevated as he looked at it.

"You must go now," exclaimed Madame Grossenberg; and Johan started from his reverie, made his bow, replaced his paper cap, and went home, with his head full of the angel instead of his work. He saw it there instead of stout Frudchen and the children, who climbed about, and wondered at his abstraction. He went to bed, and dreamed of the angel--glorified it seemed to be--and, perhaps for the first time in his life, recalled his dream, and saw the beautiful vision before his waking eyes all the next day at his work--even in the "Gold Apfel," the most unlikely place for an angel; and again when he closed his eyes to sleep. In short, the angel became to him what his gold is to the miser, his power is to the ambitious man, and his mistress to the lover: he saw nothing else in the whole world but the angel; and this now filled the heart and brain of poor Johan Schmit, of the little town of ----, on the Rhine.

There are some things we desire to possess, and other things we desire to produce; the former is the feeling of the connoisseur and collector: the latter, of the artist. The first requires taste and money; the latter--we won't say what it requires, or what it evinces, for enough has been said on the subject already. Johan Schmit had no money; taste he must have had, or he could not have admired the angel; he was no artist, certainly; he had never drawn a line, or cut any thing but a stone in his life; and yet he felt he must do something about that angel. He saw it so plainly and so constantly before him, that he felt he could copy it, if he only knew how. Now, as he could not draw, he could not copy it in that manner; but as he could cut stone, no matter how hard, he did not see why he might not attempt to cut the angel upon a large stone, which he procured, and brought quietly up to a small garret at the top of his house for that purpose.

It was at this time that the general, the statesman, the diplomatist, and the admiral, all severally planned their great undertakings; and it was at this time that a strange thought passed through the brain of Johan Schmit, as he sate looking at the great rough stone before him. Johan was, as we have seen, quite an uneducated man; he hardly knew enough of writing to spell his own name; and as to reading, he had never looked into a book since he left school, at the age of twelve; he therefore hardly knew the nature of his own ideas. His thoughts, never arranged, were but like vague sensations passing through his mind, which he could not define; but if he could have defined them they would have taken something like the following expression:

The angel seemed to have awakened a new world within him; not that he thought of the legend of the Archangel Michael, which he had heard long ago, and forgotten; but of the first idea of the artist who designed that particular angel: what must have been his thoughts! what image must he have had before him as he made that form grow from the marble block into living beauty! Whence could such an idea have come? It must surely have been a visitation from God--a spark of his own creative power. And how must the artist have felt as, day by day and hour by hour, he saw his work developing and perfecting before him, until at last it stood up, a sight to make men wonder and almost worship--an embodiment of all that was pure, lofty, and holy. Then came the contrast of his own sordid work, so low, so slave-like, so brute-like. What human idea could be put into hod-carrying, mortar-spreading, and stone-cutting? Could not an animal or a machine do as much? For the first time, perhaps, in his life, Johan felt that he had a soul not to be bounded by the limits of his work or the daily necessities of existence; and in his rough way he asked himself: How can the higher aspirations of that soul be reflected in man's every-day life? and whether a human mind should be bounded by the narrow routine of plodding toil, for the supplying of common wants? And all these thoughts, vague, unformed, a dim and undefined sense of something, passed through Johan's brain as he sate cutting away at the stone, and trying to form the angel in his little garret, in the little town of ----, on the Rhine. Patiently he labored at it after his day's work was over; patiently he bore all his failures, when he saw in the indistinct outline that the angel's arm was too short, its right leg crooked, its wings shapeless, and its head, instead of bending gracefully, stuck upon its breast like an excrescence; patiently he bore the scoldings of his wife for his dullness and abstraction, and the tricks of his children to arouse him; patiently he listened to the remonstrances of Karl and Caspar, for his bad companionship at the "Gold Apfel;" and patiently he bore the still more serious remonstrances of his master, at the careless and negligent manner in which he often performed his work, when a vision of the angel chanced to flit with more than usual vividness before him. Time wore on; and if Johan did not progress rapidly with his angel, Gertrude was far more active and diligent in presenting him with images in another material, and urging loudly at the same time the necessity of working hard for an increasing family. Poor Gertrude: she was a good woman, and loved her husband without understanding him; but she had a quick temper, and was what is commonly called a shrew. She thought Johan wanted rousing; and to rouse him she rated him: he bore it all patiently, and thought of the angel--it was strange how that angel soothed and consoled him! Caspar, his fellow-workman, fell from a scaffold, and broke his leg. Caspar, too, had a wife and children: Johan undertook his work--he worked double hours, and divided his wages with Caspar.

Karl revealed to him in confidence over his pipe at the "Gold Apfel," that he was in debt, and had been threatened with a jail: Johan lent him the money unknown to Gertrude, and worked hard to make it up; as he knew Karl could never pay him.

He had now no time to work at the angel; and time was going on with him. By his little broken looking-glass he could see his beard growing gray; but strange to say, the angel, though less distinct in form than when he saw it, was still firmly fixed in his memory; and though it seemed to be etherialized, he could always call up its image before him; and still, every moment he could spare, did he hasten to his garret, and cut away at the rough stone. But these hours were stolen from his natural rest, and nature punished the theft; his strength visibly declined. Yet he could not abandon his work--and this not from any ambitious ideas of its success, for he never dreamed of succeeding--he felt his own inability too much to hope for it;--but there was something in the exercise of will, mind, and heart--something which seemed to elevate him in spite of himself, while at his employment, that balanced all other feelings of disappointment and weariness, making him a happier--no, that is not the word, but a nobler--man. And now Johan Schmit had contrived to apprentice his eldest son, send his second to school, pay the doctor's long bill for two children, and bury another; besides having helped Caspar during his illness, and paid Karl's debt. Thrifty Gertrude managed to keep things together; and in her cleaning and bustling had no time to observe the wan face and wasted frame of her husband. The stone had been gradually cut into a form which was nearly as shapeless as before Johan touched it; and yet, to his eyes, it did bear some rude resemblance to the angel of his inspiration--which appeared before his eyes so vividly as he returned from an unusually-long and hard day's work to his home, that he thought he could just put one or two finishing strokes before going to bed which would recall his dimly-remembered model. Without touching supper or pipe, he embraced his wife and children, and went to his garret. He looked long on the rude block before him, and then took up his hammer and chisel to complete his work. After two or three attempts, an unwonted languor stole over him; the tools dropped from his hands, and he worked no more; but the vision of the angel before his eyes grew stronger and stronger, and of something brighter and more glorious than the angel, but he did not attempt to carve it.

In the early morning Gertrude awoke, and was surprised not to see her husband. Thinking he might have risen to his work earlier than usual, she arose and went down stairs; the door was bolted, and there were no signs of Johan. She called; no answer: then, becoming alarmed, she roused the children to look for him. The small house was soon searched, but no Johan discovered; when Wilhelm, remembering the garret he had seen his father steal away into, ascended the ladder leading to it--and there, on his knees, his head resting on the rude block of stone, lay the lifeless body of Johan Schmit. The last thing his eyes beheld on earth was _that_ angel;--but who can say on what vision they opened.

His wife and children removed to Bonn, to her father; who had saved money, and promised to take care of them. His body was laid in the little cemetery of the little town: his widow placed a wooden cross at the head of his grave, which in time, rotted and fell down; so that the place is now left unmarked by any thing. That stone, on which a human heart had carved itself out, was broken up to mend the town wall. And thus, while a large marble slab, with a long inscription, covers the remains of the great general, the great statesman, the great diplomatist, the great admiral, the great nobleman, and the great beauty--not even a piece of wood or a block of stone tells of the mere existence of poor Johan Schmit, of the little town of ----, on the Rhine.

They could work out their idea of life, and the objects for which it was given, by their successful dedication of it to pride, ambition, vanity, and coquetry. _He_ could not; but who can tell what effect that futile effort, that unknown and profitless toil, may have had upon the fate of his soul where it now is?

MAURICE TIERNAY,

THE SOLDIER OF FORTUNE.[1]