Sublime in the towers of my skiey bowers,

Lightning my pilot sits;

In a cavern under is fettered the thunder,-
It struggles and howls by fits;

Over earth and ocean, with a gentle motion,
This pilot is guiding me,

Lured by the love of the genii that move

In the depths of the purple sea;

Over the rills, and the crags, and the hills,

Over the lakes and plains,

Wherever he dream, under mountain or stream,
The spirit he loves remains;

And I all the while bask in heaven's blue smile,
Whilst he is dissolving in rains.

The sanguine Sunrise, with his meteor eyes.
And his burning plumes outspread,
Leaps on the back of my sailing rack,

When the morning star shines dead;

As on the jag of a mountain-crag,

Which an earthquake rocks and swings,

An eagle alit one moment may sit

In the light of its golden wings.

And when sunset may breathe, from the lit sea beneath, Its ardours of rest and of love,

And the crimson pall of eve may fall

From the depth of heaven above,

With wings folded I rest, on mine airy nest,

As still as a brooding dove.

That orbed maiden with white fire laden,
Whom mortals call the Moon,

Glides glimmering o'er my fleece-like floor,
By the midnight breezes strewn ;

And wherever the beat of her unseen feet,
Which only the angels hear,

May have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof,
The stars peep behind her and peer!

4.

laug to see them whit and fee,

lik sa swarm of golden bes,

What wider, the rent in my wind-built tent,
Ti, the calm. Trvers, lakes, and seas,
Iske string of the stry fallen through me on high,
Aro enci, pate, with the moon and these.

1 bind the Sm's throne with a burning zone
And the Moon's with a girdle of pearl;
Th. eninahaps are dim, and the stars reel and swim,
The the whirlwinds my banner unfurl
Dear > egne to care, with a bridge-like shape,

forren: sea,

Sunkern, brnoj, hang like a robi,

Mo-mauntains its columns be.

Nos crimpnha! avel through which I march
12. hurricane, fire, and snow,

Miha - Heers of the air are chained to my chair,
Yak, millian-poloured bow";

Pe ahave its soft colours wove,
teki, ako man-earth was laughing below.

in »kige M bars at the ocean and shores;

THE EVENING CLOUD.

CLOUD lay cradled near the setting sun,

A gleam of crimson tinged its braided snow Long had I watched the glory moving on, O'er the still radiance of the lake below. Tranquil its spirit seemed, and floated slow! Even in its very motion there was rest; While every breath of eve that chanced to blow Wafted the traveller to the beauteous west:Emblem, methought, of the departed soul,

To whose white robe the gleam of bliss is given; And by the breath of mercy made to roll

Right onward to the golden gates of heaven; Where, to the eye of Faith, it peaceful lies, And tells to man his glorious destinies.

WILSON.

THE STREAM.

MBLEM of life! which, still as we survey,
Seems motionless, yet ever glides away.

ROGERS,

POWER AND GENTLENESS;

OR, THE CATARACT AND THE STREAMLET.

POBLE the Mountain Stream,

Bursting in grandeur from its vantage-ground;
Glory is in its gleam

Of brightness,-thunder in its deafening sound!

Mark how its foamy spray,

Tinged by the sunbeams with reflected dyes,
Mimics the bow of day

Arching in majesty the vaulted skies,-

Thence in a summer shower

Steeping the rocks around :--Oh, tell me where
Could majesty and power
Be clothed in forms more beautifully fair?

Yet lovelier, in my view,
The Streamlet, flowing silently serene;
Traced by the brighter hue

And livelier growth it gives,—itself unseen!

It flows through flowery meads,

Gladdening the herds which on its margin browse;
Its quiet beauty feeds

The alders that o'ershade it with their boughs.

Gently it murmurs by

The village churchyard;-its low plaintive tone

A dirge-like melody

For worth and beauty modest as its own.

More gaily now it sweeps

By the small school-house, in the sunshine bright; And o'er the pebbles leaps,

Like happy hearts by holiday made light.

May not its course express,

In characters which they who run may read,
The charms of gentleness,

Were but its still small voice allowed to plead?

What are the trophies gained

By power alone, with all its noise and strife,
To that meek wreath, unstained,
Won by the charities that gladden life?

Niagara's streams might fail,

And human happiness be undisturbed;

But Egypt would turn pale,

Were her still Nile's o'erflowing bounty curbed!

BARTON.

THE LEVEN.

N Leven's banks, while free to rove,
And tune the rural pipe to love,

I envied not the happiest swain

That ever trod the Arcadian plain.

Pure stream! in whose transparent wave
My youthful limbs I wont to lave,
No torrents stain thy limpid source,
No rocks impede thy dimpling course,
That sweetly warbles o'er its bed,
With white, round, polished pebbles spread;
While, lightly poised, the scaly brood
In myriads cleave thy crystal flood;-
The springing trout in speckled pride;
The salmon, monarch of the tide ;
The ruthless pike, intent on war;
The silver eel, and mottled par.
Devolving from thy parent lake,
A charming maze thy waters make,
By bowers of birch, and groves of pine,
And edges flowered with eglantine.

Still on thy banks, so gaily green,
May numerous herds and flocks be seen;
And lasses chanting o'er the pail,
And shepherds piping in the dale;
And ancient faith that knows no guile,
And industry embrowned with toil;
And hearts resolved, and hand prepared,
The blessings they enjoy to guard!

SMOLLETT.

THE TAY.

HOU Queen of Caledonia's mountain floods, Theme of a thousand gifted bards of yore, Majestic wanderer of the wilds and woods, That lov'st to circle cloud and mountain hoar,