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The maiden, in her bridal vestments clad,
And gave her hand and virgin heart away-
Whilst mantling blushes o'er her features spread
Like Iris' colors on the deepened blue

Of Heaven's high vault-to one whose kindling eye
Was turned with rapture on her matchless face,
And who in part was like unto the youth
That first beside her stood-yet not the same.
And she did love him with a boundless love-
Deep, pure and changeless as Jehovah's word-
The very essence of her being, that life's
Quiescent stream with fairest garlands strewed-
For he her youthful heart's responsive chord
Had known to touch with sweet and winning words,
By graceful mien, and giant strength of mind.
Unblest he was with Mammon's glittering hoard-
In nothing rich, save worth's neglected store;
And yet for that, her heart with wildest joy
Did but the closer cling unchanged to him.
And he, with pride and pleasure took her to
His bosom beating high; for none could know,
And knowing not admire. But his was not
The fervent adoration of the heart,
In prostrate homage bowed before her shrine,
That moved the soul of him who first essayed
Her peerless love to win. And yet before
Them to all seeming lay a flowery path,
Along whose scented walks they might their way
With noiseless step and even tenor wend.

VII.

Once more, and only once, a change passed o'er My fitful dream. In sultry, southern clime, Again upon my vision fell the tall, Attenuated image of that youth, Whom first beneath the spreading oak I saw ; And he was changed not less in feature than In heart. The glow of health had fled his cheek, Now haggard, swart and bronzed by burning sun. His eye, once bright with joyous life, had lost Its lustre now, and deep upon his brow Had care her furrows traced. His spirit too, So light and buoyant once, was now all bound And broken like the willow's drooping branch. But o'er his heart a yet more fearful change Had come. Once warm and sensibly alive To pity's cry-e'er breathing love for allNow cold and seared-the living fountains of Its sympathy were dried-and dead it was To all things save the worldly schemes that fierce Ambition wrought. And none did know the weight Of anguish on its aching chords that pressed, Since living man no commune held with him: For he did spurn them as unhallowed things, And 'round him wrapt the cloak of selfishness: For what was now the world to him, since she Whose presence had made all things beautiful, Was lost, forever lost? And he did look Unmoved on fairest form, and brightest eye; Unmoved he heard full many a voice attuned In sweet accordance with the soft piano; For mute were all the echoes of his soul, Since never could he hope again such pure, Such bright, such dazzling purity to find, As dwelt within the heart of her he loved.

And nought the slumbering powers of his mind
Did rouse and prompt to grapple with the herd
That crossed his path, save only the desire
To banish thought and leave a name behind.
For he did feel that none would glory in
His present fame, and that he was a lone
And desert being-all forgetting, and

By all forgot. And though his soul did thirst
At honor's fount to drink and laurels win,
He inly scorned the world-the world's acclaim-
And whilst it flattered, loathed its fulsome praise.
And yet unto all outward seeming was

His spirit calm as ocean's waves, when lie
The winds of Heaven upon her bosom hushed.

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Of my country and of my family I have little to say. Ill usage and length of years have driven me from the one, and estranged me from the other. Hereditary wealth afforded me an education of no common order, and a contemplative turn of mind enabled me to methodize the stores which early study very diligently garnered up. Beyond all things the works of the German moralists gave me great delight; not from any ill-advised admiration of their eloquent madness, but from the ease with which my habits of rigid thought enabled me to detect their falsities. I have often been reproached with the aridity of my genius—a deficiency of imagination has been imputed to me as a crime-and the Pyrrhonism of my opinions has at all times rendered me notorious. Indeed a strong relish for Physical Philosophy has, I fear, tinctured my mind with a very common error of this age-I mean the habit of referring occurrences, even the least susceptible of such reference, to the principles of that science. Upon the whole, no person could be less liable than myself to be led away from the severe precincts of truth by the ignes fatui of superstition. I have thought proper to premise thus much lest the incredible tale I have to tell should be considered rather the ravings of a crude imagination, than the positive experience of a mind to which the reveries of fancy have been a dead letter and a nullity.

After many years spent in foreign travel, I sailed in the year 18-, from the port of Batavia, in the rich and populous island of Java, on a voyage to the Archipelago of the Sunda islands. I went as passenger-having no other inducement than a kind of nervous restlessness which haunted me like a fiend.

Our vessel was a beautiful ship of about four hundred tons, copper-fastened, and built at Bombay of Malabar teak. She was freighted with cotton-wool and oil, from the Lachadive islands. We had also on board coir, jaggeree, ghee, cocoa-nuts, and a few cases of opium. The stowage was clumsily done, and the vessel consequently crank.

VOL. II.-5*

overboard, and the captain and mates must have perished as they slept, for the cabins were deluged with water. Without assistance, we could expect to do little for the security of the ship, and our exertions were at first paralyzed by the momentary expectation of going

at the first breath of the hurricane, or we should have been instantaneously overwhelmed. We scudded with frightful velocity before the sea, and the water made clear breaches over us. The frame-work of our stern was shattered excessively, and, in almost every respect, we had received considerable injury-but to our ex

We got under way with a mere breath of wind, and for many days stood along the eastern coast of Java without any other incident to beguile the monotony of our course than the occasional meeting with some of the small grabs of the Archipelago to which we were bound. One evening, leaning over the taffrail, I observed a | down. Our cablehad, of course, parted like pack-thread, very singular, isolated cloud, to the N. W. It was remarkable, as well for its color, as from its being the first we had seen since our departure from Batavia. I watched it attentively until sunset, when it spread all at once to the Eastward and Westward, girting in the horizon with a narrow strip of vapor, and looking like a long line of low beach. My notice was soon after-treme joy we found the pumps unchoked, and that we wards attracted by the dusky red appearance of the had no great difficulty in keeping free. The main fury moon, and the peculiar character of the sea. The latter of the Simoom had already blown over, and we apprewas undergoing a rapid change, and the water seemed hended little danger from the violence of the wind-but more than usually transparent. Although I could dis- we looked forward to its total cessation with dismay, tinctly see the bottom, yet, heaving the lead, I found the well believing, that, in our shattered condition, we should ship in fifteen fathoms. The air now became intolera- inevitably perish in the tremendous swell which would bly hot, and was loaded with spiral exhalations similar ensue. But this very just apprehension seemed by no to those arising from heated iron. As night came on, means likely to be soon verified. For five entire days every breath of wind died away, and a more entire calm and nights-during which our only subsistence was a it is impossible to conceive. The flame of a candle small quantity of jaggerce, procured with great difficulburned upon the poop without the least perceptible mo- ty from the forecastle-the hulk flew at a rate defying tion, and a long hair, held between the finger and thumb, computation, before rapidly succeeding flaws of wind, hung without the possibility of detecting a vibration. which, without equalling the first violence of the SiHowever, as the captain said he could perceive no indi-moom, were still more terrific than any tempest I had cation of danger, and as we were drifting in bodily to before encountered. Our course for the first four days shore, he ordered the sails to be furled, and the anchor was, with trifling variations, S. E. and by South; and let go. No watch was set, and the crew, consisting | we must have run down the coast of New Holland. On principally of Malays, stretched themselves deliberately upon deck. I went below-not without a full presentiment of evil. Indeed every appearance warranted me in apprehending a Simoom. I told the captain my fears-but he paid no attention to what I said, and left me without deigning to give a reply. My uneasiness however prevented me from sleeping, and about midnight I went upon deck. As I placed my foot upon the upper step of the companion ladder, I was startled with a loud, humming noise, like that occasioned by the rapid revolution of a mill-wheel, and before I could ascertain its meaning, I found the ship quivering to its centre. In the next instant, a wilderness of foam hurled us upon our beam-ends, and, rushing over us fore and aft, swept the entire decks from stem to stern.

The extreme fury of the blast proved in a great measure the salvation of the ship. Although completely water-logged, yet, as all her masts had gone by the board, she rose, after a minute, heavily from the sea, and, staggering awhile beneath the immense pressure of the tempest, finally righted.

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the fifth day the cold became extreme, although the wind had hauled round a point more to the Northward. The sun arose with a sickly yellow lustre, and clambered a very few degrees above the horizon-emitting no decisive light. There were no clouds whatever apparent, yet the wind was upon the increase, and blew with a fitful and unsteady fury. About noon, as nearly as we could guess, our attention was again arrested by the appearance of the sun. It gave out no light, properly so called, but a dull and sullen glow unaccompanied by any ray. Just before sinking within the turgid sea its central fires suddenly went out, as if hurriedly extinguished by some unaccountable power. It was a dim, silver-like rim, alone, as it rushed down the unfathomable ocean.

We waited in vain for the arrival of the sixth daythat day to me has not yet arrived—to him, never did arrive. Thenceforward we were enshrouded in pitchy darkness, so that we could not have seen an object at twenty paces from the ship. Eternal night continued to envelop us, all unrelieved by the phosphoric sea-brilBy what miracle I escaped destruction, it is impos-liancy to which we had been accustomed in the tropics. sible to say. Stunned by the shock of the water, I found myself upon recovery, jammed in between the stern-post and rudder. With great difficulty I gained my feet, and looking dizzily around, was, at first, struck with the idea of our being among breakers, so terrific beyond the wildest imagination was the whirlpool of mountainous and foaming ocean within which we were engulfed. After a while, I heard the voice of an old Swede, who had shipped with us at the moment of our leaving port. I hallooed to him with all my strength, and presently he came reeling aft. We soon discovered that we were the sole survivors of the accident. All on deck, with the exception of ourselves, had been swept

We observed too, that, although the tempest continued to rage with unabated violence, there was no longer to be discovered the usual appearance of surf, or foam, which had hitherto attended us. All around was horror, and thick gloom, and a black sweltering desert of ebony. Superstitious terror crept by degrees into the spirit of the old Swede, and my own soul was wrapped up in silent wonder. We neglected all care of the ship, as worse than useless, and securing ourselves as well as possible to the stump of the mizen-mast, looked out bitterly into the world of ocean. We had no means of calculating time, nor could we form any guess of our situation. We were however well aware

of having made farther to the Southward than any pre- [ of my mind, was perhaps the principle of my concealvious navigators, and felt extreme amazement at not ment. I was unwilling to trust myself with a race of meeting with the usual impediments of ice. In the people who had offered, to the cursory glance I had tameantime every moment threatened to be our last— ken, so many points of vague novelty, doubt, and apevery mountainous billow hurried to overwhelm us. prehension. I therefore thought proper to contrive a The swell surpassed any‍thing I had imagined possible, hiding-place in the hold. This I did by removing a and that we were not instantly buried is a miracle. My small portion of the shifting-boards in such a manner as companion spoke of the lightness of our cargo, and re- to afford me a convenient retreat between the huge timminded me of the excellent qualities of our ship-but I bers of the ship. could not help feeling the utter hopelessness of hope itself, and prepared myself gloomily for that death which I thought nothing could defer beyond an hour, as, with every knot of way the ship made, the swelling of the black stupendous seas became more dismally appalling. At times we gasped for breath at an elevation beyond the Albatross-at times became dizzy with the velocity of our descent into some watery Hell, where the air grew stagnant, and no sound disturbed the slumbers of the Kraken.

We were at the bottom of one of these abysses, when a quick scream from my companion broke fearfully upon the night. 'See! see!'-cried he, shrieking in my ears,-'Almighty God! see! see!' As he spoke, I became aware of a dull, sullen glare of light which rolled, as it were, down the sides of the vast chasm where we lay, and threw a fitful brilliancy upon our deck. Casting my eyes upwards, I beheld a spectacle which froze the current of my blood. At a terrific height directly above us, and upon the very verge of the precipitous descent, hovered a gigantic ship of nearly four thousand tons. Although upreared upon the summit of a wave of more than a hundred times her own altitude, her apparent size still exceeded that of any ship of the line or East Indiaman in existence. Her huge hull was of a deep dingy black, unrelieved by any of the customary carvings of a ship. A single row of brass cannon protruded from her open ports, and dashed off from their polished surfaces the fires of innumerable battle-lanterns, which swung to and fro about her rigging. But what mainly inspired us with horror and astonishment, was that she bore up under a press of sail in the very teeth of that supernatural sea, and of that ungovernable hurricane. When we first discovered her, her stupendous bows were alone to be seen, as she rose up, like a demon of the deep, slowly from the dim and horrible gulf beyond her. For a moment of intense terror she paused upon the giddy pinnacle, as if in contemplation of her own sublimity, then trembled and tottered, and-came down.

At this instant, I know not what sudden self-possession came over my spirit. Staggering as far aft as I could, I awaited fearlessly the ruin that was to overwhelm. Our own vessel was at length ceasing from her struggles, and sinking with her head to the sea. The shock of the descending mass struck her, consequently, in that portion of her frame which was already under water, and the inevitable result was to hurl me with irresistible violence upon the rigging of the stranger.

As I fell, the ship hove in stays, and went about, and to the confusion ensuing, I attributed my escape from the notice of the crew. With little difficulty I made my way unperceived to the main hatchway, which was partially open, and soon found an opportunity of secreting myself in the hold. Why I did so I can hardly tell. A nameless and indefinite sense of awe, which at first sight of the navigators of the ship had taken hold

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I had scarcely completed my work, when a footstep in the hold forced me to make use of it. A man passed by my place of concealment with a feeble and unsteady gait. I could not see his face, but had an opportunity of observing his general appearance. There was about it an evidence of great age and infirmity. His knees tottered beneath a load of years, and his entire frame quivered under the burthen. He muttered to himself in a low broken tone, some words of a language which I could not understand, and groped in a corner among a pile of singular-looking instruments, and decayed charts of navigation. His manner was a wild mixture of the peevishness of second childhood, and the solemn dignity of a God. He at length went on deck, and I saw him no more.

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A feeling, for which I have no name, has taken possession of my soul-a sensation which will admit of no analysis, to which the lessons of by-gone time are inadequate, and for which I fear futurity itself will offer me no key. To a mind constituted like my own the latter consideration is an evil. I shall never,—I know that I shall never-be satisfied with regard to the nature of my conceptions. Yet it is not wonderful that these conceptions are indefinite, since they have their origin in sources so utterly novel. A new sense, a new entity is added to my soul.

It is long since I first trod the deck of this terrible ship, and the rays of my destiny are, I think, gathering to a focus. Incomprehensible men! Wrapped up in meditations of a kind which I cannot divine, they pass me by unnoticed. Concealment is utter folly on my part, for the people will not see. It was but just now that I passed directly before the eyes of the mate,—it was no long while ago that I ventured into the captain's own private cabin, and took thence the materials with which I write, and have written. I shall from time to time continue this journal. It is true that I may not find an opportunity of transmitting it to the world, but I will not fail to make the endeavor. At the last moment I will enclose the MS. in a bottle, and cast it within the sea.

An incident has occurred which has given me new room for meditation. Are such things the operations of ungoverned Chance? I had ventured upon deck and thrown myself down, without attracting any notice, among a pile of ratlin-stuff and old sails in the bottom of the yawl. While musing upon the singularity of my fate, I unwittingly daubed with a tar-brush the edges of a neatly-folded studding-sail which lay near me on a barrel. The studding-sail is now bent upon the ship, and the thoughtless touches of the brush are spread out into the word DISCOVERY.

I have made many observations lately upon the structure of the vessel. Although well armed, she is not, I think, a ship of war. Her rigging, build, and general equipment, all negative a supposition' of this kind.

What she is not I can easily perceive, what she is I fear | though in his appearance there is, to a casual observer, it is impossible to say. I know not how it is, but in scru- nothing which might bespeak him more or less than tinizing her strange model and singular cast of spars, her man—still a feeling of irrepressible reverence and awe huge size and overgrown suits of canvass, her severely mingled with the sensation of wonder with which I resimple bow and antiquated stern, there will occasionally garded him. In stature he is nearly my own height, flash across my mind a sensation of familiar things, and that is, about five feet eight inches. He is of a wellthere is always mixed up with such shadows, as it were, knit and compact frame of body, neither robust nor reof recollection, an unaccountable memory of old foreign markably otherwise. But it is the singularity of the chronicles and ages long ago. expression which reigns upon the face, it is the intense, the wonderful, the thrilling evidence of old age so utter, so extreme, which strikes upon my soul with the shock of a Galvanic battery. His forehead, although little wrinkled, seems to bear upon it the stamp of a myriad of years. His gray hairs are records of the past, and his grayer eyes are Sybils of the future. The cabin floor was thickly strewn with strange, iron-clasped folios, and mouldering instruments of science, and obsolete, long-forgotten charts. His head was bowed down upon his hands, and he pored with a fiery unquiet eye over a paper which I took to be a commission, and which, at all events, bore the signature of a monarch. He muttered to himself, as did the first seaman whom I saw in the hold, some low, peevish syllables of a foreign tongue, and although the speaker was close at my elbow, yet his voice seemed to reach my ears from the distance of a mile.

I have been looking at the timbers of the ship. She is built of a material to which I am a stranger. There is a peculiar character about the wood which strikes me as rendering it unfit for the purpose to which it has been applied. I mean its extreme porousness, considered independently of the worm-eaten condition which is a consequence of navigation in these seas, and apart from the rottenness attendant upon age. It will appear perhaps an observation somewhat over-curious, but this wood has every characteristic of Spanish oak, if Spanish oak were distended or swelled by any unnatural means. In reading the above sentence a curious apothegm of an old weather-beaten Dutch navigator comes full upon my recollection. 'It is as sure,' he was wont to say, when any doubt was entertained of his veracity, 'as sure as there is a sea where the ship itself will grow in bulk like the living body of the seaman.'

The ship and all in it are imbued with the spirit of Eld. The crew glide to and fro like the ghosts of buried centuries, their eyes have an eager and uneasy meaning, and when their figures fall athwart my path in the wild glare of the battle-latterns, I feel as I have never felt before, although I have been all my life a dealer in antiquities, and have imbibed the shadows of fallen columns at Balbec, and Tadmor, and Persepolis, until my very soul has become a ruin.

About an hour ago I made bold to thrust myself among a group of the crew. They paid me no manner of attention, and, although I stood in the very midst of them all, seemed utterly unconscious of my presence. Like the one I had at first seen in the hold, they all bore about them the marks of a hoary old age. Their knees trembled with infirmity, their shoulders were bent double with decrepitude, their shrivelled skins rattled in the wind, their voices were low, tremulous, and broken, their eyes glistened with the rheum of years, and their When I look around me I feel ashamed of my former gray hairs streamed terribly in the tempest. Around apprehensions. If I trembled at the blast which has them on every part of the deck lay scattered mathe-hitherto attended us, shall I not stand aghast at a warmatical instruments of the most quaint and obsolete con- ring of wind and ocean, to convey any idea of which struction. the words tornado and Simoom are trivial and ineffec

blackness of eternal night, and a chaos of foamless water; but, about a league on either side of us, may be seen, indistinctly and at intervals, stupendous ramparts of ice, towering away into the desolate sky, and looking like the walls of the Universe.

As I imagined, the ship proves to be in a current, if that appellation can properly be given to a tide which, howling and shrieking by the white ice, thunders on to the Southward with a velocity like the headlong dashing of a cataract.

I mentioned some time ago the bending of a studding-tive! All in the immediate vicinity of the ship is the sail. From that period the ship, being thrown dead off the wind, has held her terrific course due South, with every rag of canvass packed upon her from her trucks to her lower-studding-sail booms, and rolling every moment her top-gallant yard-arms into the most appalling hell of water, which it can enter into the mind of man to imagine. I have just left the deck, where I find it impossible to maintain a footing, although the crew seem to experience little inconvenience. It appears to me a miracle of miracles that our enormous bulk is not buried up at once and forever. We are surely doomed to hover continually upon the brink of Eternity, without taking a final plunge into the abyss. From billows a thousand times more stupendous than any I have ever seen, we glide away with the facility of the arrowy sea-gull, and the colossal waters rear their heads above us like de-wards to some exciting knowledge-some never-to-bemons of the deep, but like demons confined to simple threats and forbidden to destroy. I am led to attribute these frequent escapes to the only natural cause which can account for such effect. I must suppose the ship to be within the influence of some strong current, or impetuous under-tow.

I have seen the captain face to face, and in his own cabin-but, as I expected, he paid me no attention. Al

To conceive the horror of my sensations is, I presume, utterly impossible-yet a curiosity to penetrate the mysteries of these awful regions predominates even over my despair, and will reconcile me to the most hideous aspect of death. It is evident that we are hurrying on

imparted secret, whose attainment is destruction. Perhaps this current leads us to the Southern Pole itself— it must be confessed that a supposition apparently so wild has every probability in its favor.

The crew pace the deck with unquiet and tremulous step, but there is upon their countenances an expression more of the eagerness of hope than of the apathy of despair.

In the meantime the wind is still in our poop, and as

A holy flame that burned, amid the blight,

we carry a crowd of canvass, the ship is at times lifted | Of fell disease and anguish, more divinely bright. bodily from out the sea-Oh, horror upon horror! the ice opens suddenly to the right, and to the left, and we are whirling dizzily in immense concentric circles, round and round the borders of a gigantic amphitheatre, the summit of whose walls is lost in the darkness and the distance. But little time will be left me to ponder upon my destiny-the circles rapidly grow small-we are plunging madly within the grasp of the whirlpool--and amid a roaring, and bellowing, and shrieking of ocean

The sun climbs higher in the azure sky-
More fiercely on the earth descend his beams—
The tender flowers hang low their heads and die,
And wearied cattle seek the cooling streams.
Faint grow the ploughmen and their toil-worn teams;
The reapers too have ceased their strains of mirth;
No more the air with sounds of pleasure teems;
And now the shadows traced upon the earth,

and of tempest, the ship is quivering, oh God! and--And the fierce heat, proclaim the sultry noon-day's birth. going down.

A SKETCH.

BY ALEX. LACEY BEARD, M. D.

The shades of night are fleeing fast away
Before the blushing of the morning light;
The diamond stars that gleamed in bright array
Through the lone watches of the silent night,
Are fading dimly, as an orb more bright,
The glorious sun, from the deep coral caves,
Comes leaping forth in swift and tireless flight,
And as the sea his burning bosom laves,

More brightly throws his glance across the bounding

waves.

The cheerful songsters of the verdant grove,
Are trilling forth their merry morning lays-
Their matin songs of warm impassioned love,
Which sweetly strike the ear of him who strays
Through the green paths and shady woodland ways,
Drinking deep pleasure from old Nature's wells,
Where the wild cat'ract in the sunlight plays,
Or seated lone, mid dark and mossy dells-
Or on some rocky mount yields to her magic spells.

The red-breast, mounted on some tow'ring tree,
Is chanting loud his merry, mirthful strain;
And the sweet lark's melodious notes of glee,
Are softly floating o'er the dewy plain.

From the broad fields which wave with golden grain,
Echoes the whistle of the timid quail;
And the loud laughter of the reaper train
Sweeps wildly by, borne on the passing gale
O'er woodland hill afar, and flowery-vested vale.

I hear the tuneful sound of humming bees,
And gently blows the soothing summer wind
With murmuring sound among the wavy trees,
And where gay flowers, in wild luxuriance twined,
Shed fragrance on its wings. How dull, how blind
To nature and her charms is he who sleeps
Through the glad morn, nor feels the fragrant wind
That o'er the hills and verdant valleys sweeps,
"Till with wild joy the heart of Nature's lover leaps!

O'er hill and valley far away I've strayed,
And gathered roses wet with morning dew,
To deck the grave where sleeps a gentle maid
Whose tender heart no change nor coldness knew,
But throbbed with love, which warmer, holier grew
As waxed more dim life's faint and flickering light,
And to the close remained unchanged and true-

O'er the wide fields the herds have ceased to rove, The tuneful birds have hushed their morning song, Silent and lone is the deserted grove

Which late re-echoed to the warbling throng.
Hark! hark! I hear, sounding the vales along,
The mellow horn-the pleasant sound which calls
From the hot fields, the wearied harvest throng
To seek, where the old oak tree's shadow falls,
Their noon-day meal hard by the flowery cottage walls.

Within a green and trellised bower I lie,
Securely sheltered from the solar rays,
And on the bright and glowing summer sky
In contemplation rapt, I fix my gaze,

And scan each fleecy cloud which slowly strays
Like some pure spirit o'er the azure dome,
Making amid its wild and trackless ways,
Its boundless depths, a bright ethereal home
Where lone and airy forms in silent grandeur roam.

And here at noon-day hour I often dream
Of the fair hopes which light life's gloomy waste--
A desart plain o'er which a laughing stream,
Has found a way, its banks with wild flowers graced.
But ah! alas! when the fair stream is traced,
Amid lone sands we find its darksome goal.
O dreary life! in death's cold grasp embraced—
A withered thing, a dark and blotted scroll,
O'er which oblivion's deep and sluggish waters roll.

In early youth upon the sea of life,

We spread our sails, nor dream of pain nor care, Nor the fierce tempest, nor the raging strife Which gathers round our bark where'er we steer, But on we rush, heedless and without fear, Till, shipwrecked all our hopes, we helpless lie And feel the bitter pangs of black despairOr from the demon strive in vain to fly, Or rush into the arms of Death and madly die.

The sun is sinking down the western skies-
A holy calm is reigning o'er the earth-
From the green valleys cheerful sounds arise-
The tinkling sheep-bell, and the merry mirth
Of happy children—laughing at the birth
Of some new pleasure. Now the setting sun,
More brightly gleaming o'er the virent earth,
Casts a rich glow of golden light upon
The fleecy clouds, which line the western horizon.

Along yon valley where (a silent grove!)
Those dark green pines in loneliness arise;
With a sad heart in solitude I'll rove,
And darkly muse upon the broken ties

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