The moonlight music of the waves In storms is heard no more, When the livid lightning mocks the wreck At midnight on the shore; And the mariner's song of home has ceased His corse is on the sea; And music ceases, when it rains, In Scudder's balcony. ODE. BY CHARLES SPRAGUE. WHEN from the sacred garden driven, And crossed the wanderer's sunless path. 'Twas Art! sweet Art! new radiance broke, Where her light foot flew o'er the ground, And thus with seraph voice she spoke :"The Curse a Blessing shall be found." She led him through the trackless wild, The village grows, the city springs, And point their spires of faith to heaven. He rends the oak-and bids it ride, To guard the shores its beauty graced; He smites the rock-upheaved in pride, See towers of strength and domes of taste. Earth's teeming caves their wealth reveal, Fire bears his banner on the wave, He bids the mortal poison heal, And leaps triumphant o'er the grave. He plucks the pearls that stud the deep, He breaks the stubborn marble's sleep, In fields of air he writes his name, Links realm to realm, and race to race. EPITHALAMIU M. BY J. G. C. BRAINAR D. I SAW two clouds at morning, Tinged with the rising sun; I thought that morning cloud was blest, I saw two summer currents Flow smoothly to their meeting, And join their course, with silent force, In peace each other greeting : Calm was their course through banks of green, While dippling eddies played between. Such be your gentle motion, Till life's last pulse shall beat; Like summer's beam, and summer's stream, Float on in joy, to meet A calmer sea, where storms shall cease A purer sky, where all is peace. |