have been otherwise, with one of his daily habits. The Latin poet's notion, that a poet is "born, not made,” (poeta nascitur non fit,) is, by no means, verified in his case; for he was made a poet by the force of education, in its broadest sense-by the circumstances of his lifein which the stimulus of drunkenness had no small agency. He told little more than the naked truth when he said to the author last quoted, that "gin and water was the source of all his inspiration!”

Byron's longest poems are mere patch-work-histories of his own despicable career, and of the just censures and desertions of his earlier friends. There is no unbroken concatenation of thought, as in Milton. The stanzas of Childe Harolde, appear to have been (to use a homely and probably unused figure) woven together like the "filling" of a rag-carpet. Here we find pieces of new-there of old and worn out garments. Now a strip of filthy silk or worsted-then something so rich and brilliant in texture and coloring, that we think it a pity it should be found in such mean fellowship and use.-Southern Literary Messenger.

"Have thou nothing to do with that just man; for I have suf fered many things this day in a dream because of him."-THE BIBLE.

I HAD a dream-'twas strangely wrought-
A tissue of disjointed thought-
Nor is it only in my brain,
The pictured characters remain;
I never had a dream, I know,
Which press'd upon my conscience so,
And dwelt within my heart of hearts:-
'Tis said that Heav'n sometimes imparts
In visions dark his will to man ;-
If this be so, I fain would scan
The mystic meaning, for though dim,
And strange, and wild, 'twas all of Him
The Jews condemn-that man is just;
Go tell my lord he must not trust
To what the Jewish conclave tell,
Their words are false, I know full well.

O! while I speak, my blood grows chill-
That fearful vision haunts me still,

And rises to my waking view,
As something palpable and true.

I seem to see a dusty crowd,
And one is there by suffering bow'd;
Curses and shouts are mingling round,
And many a sad, terrific sound;
And then I see a skull-throng'd place,
And on a rising hillock trace

A blackened cross-red lightning's fly,
And thunders rend the bending sky-
Amidst the raging of that storm,

Extended on the cross, a form
Of matchless majesty appears;

A mission'd band from other spheres,
Supported on a cloud of gold,
The dark catastrophe behold;

And circling round the blood-stain'd steep,
In mute surprise they gaze and weep.

A thousand shifting scenes flit by,
And leave no picture on mine eye;
And then, I stand on Olivet
And watch the sun in radiance set,
When lo! the lustrous clouds which throw,
O'er his descending track their glow,
Gather new light, and concentrate
Their richest hues-a pearl-wrought gate,
Their beams reveal-an angel file
(Rich music floating round the while)
Come from the parted skies-I turn
Their errand to our world to learn,
When Him I see, who late with awe
And shuddering, on the cross I saw,
A pitying smile his features wear,
And still his hands the tokens bear
Of bloody death-and from his side,
And wounded feet, a crimson tide
Is slowly ebbing. As I gaze,
Lost in regret and wild amaze,
A shout of triumph welcomes Him,
And all I've known of light grows dim
In the effulgent glory there;

Borne on the air a whispering breath
Salutes me thus: "O'er hell and death
The Lamb is victor-see him come
A conqueror to his heavenly home;
Sin is despoiled, salvation won,
Gentiles and Jews, adore the Son."
Such was my dream, O herald haste,
And tell my lord-the moments waste.

*

The warning words were giv'n in time-
But did they save her lord from crime?
When he the water took, and said,
"I'm innocent-the blood ye shed
Shall not upon my hands remain;
It is your act;" then did no stain
Rest on his conscience, fraught with pow'r
To wrap in gloom his dying hour,
And wake remorse? We may not learn-
The sacred leaves no voice return.

TO THE EVENING STAR. FAIR star of heaven! when day declines

Far, far below the western wave, Thy dewy eye then brighter shines,

And breaks the misty shades of eve. So, when the Christian's race is o'er,

That star of hope which did illume His weary path, then shines the more,

And points to realms beyond the tomb!

||rity, which the wisest and best of our age are endeavoring to twine for the brow of woman!

I have thought it probable that an address from the Maid of Honor selected to preside at a rural coronation, with a rejoinder from the Queen, might not be unacceptable to your youthful readers, or an inappropriate "gathering" for your May number.

ers would endeavor to allure the youthful female from amusements unworthy her immortal destiny, should they not seek to substitute those innocent enjoyments which are in unison with the hilarity of first-awakened feeling, and which throw a halo of remembered loveliness over the cares which will cluster around after life? One of those bright, sunny spots which shine through the "vista of years," even as distant stars sparkle through the gloom of night-the gala-day that glows on the page of memory with the most vivid coloring, and that brings to my heart the purest and most endearing associations, is that which we were accustomed to call the "Feast of the Coronation." Your readers will doubtless recognize my allusion; for, although the habit of celebrating May-day is not general in our western valley, yet there are few mothers who cannot recall the many thrilling incidents which were wont to throng around its annual return, in their own youthful days. The bright group of joyous beings in the sweet prime of girlhood-the flushed cheek, and kindling eye of her, who was chosen Queen of the festal hour-not for superior beauty, or pre-eminent talent, but for surpassing worth-the fragrant chaplet of spring's earliest flowers, with the dew of heaven still glistening on their petals, carelessly hanging on the arm of the blushing girl who led the white-robed train that was approaching to twine the insignia of royalty around a brow, pure as its opening blossoms: these, are all images that memory has traced with her own imperishable coloring on the tablet of my heart; and which many of your readers will recognize as relics of earlier days.

The buoyancy of youthful feeling requires amusements consonant to its own joyous hue-and the moral constitution of our being demands that those amusements should be of a social character. If, then, we can substitute innocent enjoyments for the fascinating, yet dangerous excitement of the ball-room, we shall have placed one "gathering" among our western treasures on which the eye of age may delightedly linger; we shall have added one bud to the wreath of female pu

These lines will doubtless please the juvenile reader. Should they go abroad in season, they may possibly be adopted by some of our young friends, to help out their "May-day" ceremonies. For there are, we suppose, annual coronations, at least in this "Queen" of western cities. Should the addresses come to so great honor, may they be used innocently, and not to cherish sinful passions. While our juvenile friends keep a pastime, let them blend instruction with amusement. Our Savior made a wedding ceremony subserve the interests of his mission. Neither garlands of flowers, nor crowns of gold, should tempt us to forget the crowns immortal which we may attain in heaven. The above note leads us to suppose that even the aged, from association, will glance at these lines with interest.-EDS.

Queen of this brightly smiling hour,

Hail to thy sylvan throne!

We've cull'd from many a blushing flow'r,
This dew-gemm'd wreath-thy crown!
The glowing tones of fond regard
Unite this festive day,

As thy superior worth's reward,

To hail thee-Queen of May!

On thy young, blushing brow, we've laid
The roseate braid of spring;

But, sylvan Queen, full soon will fade
Its richest coloring:

Thus brightly glows thy life's young morn,
E'en as thy crown to-day,
Which we have robb'd of ev'ry thorn,

To deck our Queen of May!

But when its rosy tints have pass'd,
And faded on thy brow,

Its innate fragrance still will last,

And shed its sweets, as now!
Thus, when the with'ring hand of Time
Shall blight thy youth's sweet day;
May innate virtues brightly shine
In our lov'd Queen of May!
HER MAJESTY'S REPLY.
Could deep-impassion'd feeling speak,
Friends of my earliest years,
The language of this blushing cheek-
These sweetly-thrilling tears;

I could my bosom's thanks express,
And not in vain essay

To tell, how deeply you have bless'd

Your happy Queen of May!

Thanks for this blushing crown I wear,
Type of my royalty-
Purer than scepter'd queens e'er bear,
And ah! more dear to me;
For had your humble friend her choice
On this, her regal day-
She'd spurn ambition's dang'rous voice,
To be your Queen of May!

Then O! may heaven profusely pour
On my companions dear,
The choicest gifts of its blest store

Thro' ev'ry coming year;
And when the wintry eve of age

Succeeds to youth's bright day-
E'en then, I'll turn to mem'ry's page-
Again, be Queen of May!

NOTICES.

druggist selects his poisons, not to be swallowed and remain in the system as a seed of disease, but to pass off hastily, cleansing the system in its progress.

these sentiments, we urge our most intelligent female readers

to omit the purchase of the next popular novel, and instead of it obtain the Philosophical Miscellanies.

To educated men, the preface recommends a more extensive acquaintance with the intellectual labors of continental Europe. We offer the same advice to intellectual women. There are good reasons suggested by the editor, in the words of another writer, which apply with equal force to both sexes.

"We ought to know the different modes of viewing and discussing great subjects in different nations. We should be able to compare the writings of the highest minds in a great variety of circumstances. Nothing can favor more our own intellectual independence and activity. Let English literature be ever so fruitful and profound, we shall still impoverish ourselves by making it our sole nutriment. If our scholars would improve our literature, they should cultivate an intimacy not only with that of England, but of continental Europe."

He adds in his own language: "It is important, for the same reasons, that a knowledge of the best productions of foreign genius and study, should not be confined to the few who have access to the original languages, but should be diffused among enlightened readers of every class and condition. The same circumstances which diminish the number of scholars, and increase that of thinkers in this country, present an urgent motive for the reproduction of the noblest creations of thought, in a form that shall be accessible to all."

The "Miscellanies" is not unsuitable in theme or in manner for female readers. It glances at philosophy historically, psychologically, and ethically-brings to view the variances and harmonies of writers, schools, and ages; and although it requires thought and patience to read it with pleasure and with profit, no doubt many of our readers are prepared to bestow upon it all the requisite study and attention. Its introductory biographical hints are exceedingly attractive. The principal topics of this work are the Destiny of Modern PhilosophyExposition of Eclecticism-The Moral Law and Liberty-Of Cause and of the Infinite-Religion, Mysticism, and Stoicismand Classification of Philosophical Questions and Schools, by Cousin, with ample notes. On Philosophy and Common Sense-On Scepticism-On the History of Philosophy-On the Faculties of the Human Soul-On the Method of Philosophical Study-On Good and Evil-On the Philosophy of History-On the Influence of Greece in the Development of Humanity--and on the Present State of Humanity, by Jouffroy, with notes. On the Progressive Development of Religious Ideas On the Human Causes which have Contributed to the Establishment of Christianity and on the Perfectability of the Human Race, by Constant, with notes.

We do not, of course, recommend the theological opinions of these men to the approval of our readers. They are often far enough from the "True Light." But it is interesting to trace the errors of the great, and learn how inadequate are the most vigorous intellects to search out and gather up those truths, which, beyond the reach of human reason, can be obtained only by donation from God, and can be received only by faith in his

THE SOVEREIGNTY OF MIND, a poem delivered before the Philomathaan Society of Pennsylvania College, February 16, 1811. By John N. MJilton. Baltimore: Joseph N. Lewis. 1841.-This is, we presume, the production of a youthful mind, But at all events it evinces genius of high promise. The theme and as such we would, if necessary, notice it with indulgence. was difficult. It courts the fellowship of the Muses in walks which they do not love. To this chiefly may be traced its defects. But its blemishes are not fatal. Its author should bend his mind to poetry, and this is a commendation due to few writers. We would be pleased if some of his strains, mingling with others in the "Gatherings of the West," could be breathed

over this great valley. Although it is but an echo, we will

present our readers with the following passages. The first describes the reign of Constantine.

"The centuries rolled: upon the rending throne
Where Superstition in her triumph reigned,
And with her thunders shook the conquered world,
In mildness, yet in majesty, there sat
An emperor of peace; the gory blade
Still reeking in the blood his fathers shed,
He thrust within its sheath and laid aside,
And taught the nations over which he ruled,
To turn their thoughts from dark inglorious deeds,
To wisdom's long neglected path of light.
The pagan worship, with its horrid rites,
Which had around the sinking empire hung
The drapery of death, with voice of power
He utterly denounced, and in its stead
Restored, in all its simpleness of truth,
The holy service of the Lord of all.
Knowledge took wings, and speedily she bore
Her glowing light to far benighted realms.
Before its luster fled the shades of gloom
That gathered when the kings that knew not God
Assumed the right o'er all the world to rule."

Below is another passage picturing a different scene. It
refers to the influence of popery on the minds and morals of
mankind. Its description of the rise of this anti-christian
power is omitted." Its baneful energies are noticed thus:
"A thousand years the tearful torrent swept,
And the proud intellect and noble powers,
In brighter years, when righteousness prevailed,
That were expanding to their native strength,
And raising man to the exalted sphere
Where his Creator meant that he should move,
Were prostrate hurled by its resistless force,
And crushed beneath the devastating flow.
Then spread the night of gloom all round the globe,
And scenes of horror mid the darkness played,
That showed how deep in infamy and crime
Might sink the human soul, though made to shine
Amid the luster of eternal day.

I looked abroad upon the fertile earth,
And saw its flowery vales and verdant hills,
Their varied forms outspreading to the sun,
As though from grotto wild and blooming grove,
And cultivated field, nature had sent
Her notes of sweet thanksgiving to her God;
And I beheld upon the grassy plains
The grazing herds, in seeming gratitude,
Partaking of the bounties of His hand;
And heard the flocks in sport among the boughs
Warble their praises in delightful strains,
While man, the noblest creature he had formed,
Was reveling in sin-his guilty hands
Deep stained with human blood in malice shed."