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Then Fancy, her magical pinions spread wide, And bade the young dreamer in ecstasy riseI Now far, far behind him, the green waters glide'; And the cot of his fore fathers, blesses his eyes. I

The jessamine clambers in flower o'er the thatch; |

And the swallow sings sweet from her nest in the wall; All trembling with transport, he raises the latch'; |

And the voices of lov'd' ones reply to his call. |

A father bends o'er him with looks of delight'; |
His cheek is impearl'd with a mother's warm tear; ]
And the lips of the boy in a love-kiss, unite' |

With the lips of the maid whom his bosom holds dear.

The heart of the sleeper beats high in his breast; |

Joy quickens his pulse - all hardships seem o’er ; | And a murmur of happiness steals through his rest— ¡ Kind Fate, thou hast bless'd me- I ask for no more.

Ah! | what is that flame which now bursts on his eye.? | Ah! what is that sound which now larums his ear'? | "T is the lightning's red glare, painting hell on the sky! | 'Tis the crashing of thun'ders, the groan of the sphere!

He springs from his ham mock-he flies to the deck — |
Amazement confronts him with images dire -1
Wild winds, and mad waves drive the vessel a wreck — |
The masts fly in splin'ters- the shrouds are on fire! |
Like moun'tains the billows tremendously swell. - |
In vain the lost wretch calls on Mercy to save'; |
Unseen hands of spirits, are ringing his knell ; |
And the death-angel flaps his broad wing o'er the

O sailor-boy! wo to thy dream of delight! |

In darkness dissolves the gay frost-work of bliss. | Where now is the picture that Fancy touch'd bright', | Thy parents' fond pressure, and love's honied kiss.? |


O sailor-boy! sailor-boy! | never again',

Shall home', love', or kindred, thy wishes repay ; | Unbless'd, and unhonour'd, I down deep in the main', [ Full many a score fathom, | thy frame shall decay. No tomb shall e'er plead to remembrance for thee, |

Or redeem form', or frame' from the merciless surge. ; | But the white foam of waves, shall thy winding-sheet be', And winds, in the midnight of winter, thy dirge! |

On beds of green sea'-flowers, thy limbs shall be laid; |
Around thy white bones, the red coral shall grow; |
Of thy fair yellow locks, threads of amber be made; |
And ev'ry part suit to thy mansion below. |


Days,, months', years', and a'ges shall circle away;|
And still the vast waters above thee shall roll
Earth loses thy pattern for ever, and aye、: 1
O sailor-boy! sai'lor-boy! peace to thy soul! |


[From the Russian Anthology.}


O THOU eternal One! | whose presence bright' |
All space doth occupy, all motion guide; |
Unchang'd through time's all-devastating flight; |
Thou only God! | There is no God beside! |
Being above all beings! | Mighty One! |
Whom none can comprehend, and none explore'; |
Who fill'st existence with thyself alone. :|
Embracing all support'ing- ruling o'er-
Being whom we call God, and know no more!!



In its sublime research, philosophy

May measure out the o'cean-deep may count
The sands, or the sun's rays'-| but, God! | for thee
There is no weight, nor measure: none can mount
Up to thy mysteries. Reason's brightest spark, |


Though kindled by thy light, in vain would try
To trace thy counsels, infinite, and dark ; |
And thought is lost' ere thought can soar so high', |
E'en like past moments in eternity. |

Thou from primeval nothingness, | didst call' 1
First chaos, then existence | Lord, on thee
Eternity had its foundation: -all

Sprung forth from thee. :— of light, | joy', | harmony, |
Sole origin: all life', all beauty, thine.


Thy word created all`, | and doth' create;¦
Thy splendour fills all space with rays divine. I
Thou art', and wert', and shalt be! Glorious! |
Great! |

Life-giving, life-sustain ing Potentatea! |

Thy chains the unmeasur'd universe surround : |
Upheld by thee, by thee inspir'd with breath、: |
Thou the beginning with the end hast bound, |
And beautifully mingled life, and death!!
As sparks mount upwards from the fiery blaze', |
So suns' are born; so worlds spring forth from thee:]
And, as the spangles in the sunny rays |
Shine round the silver snow, the pageantryb
Of heaven's bright army, glitters in thy praise." |

A million torches, lighted by thy hand, |
Wander unwearied through the blue abyss: |
They own thy power, accomplish thy command', |
All gay with life, all eloquent with bliss. |

a Po'tên-tate; not po'tn-tåte.

b Pådd2ủn-trẻ.

"The force of this simile," says Bowring, in his Specimens of the Russian Poets, "can hardly be imagined by those who have never witnessed the sun shining, with unclouded splendour, in a cold of twenty or thirty degrees of Reaumur. A thousand, and ten thousand sparkling stars of ice, brighter than the brightest diamond, play on the surface of the frozen snow; and the slightest breeze sets myriads of icy atoms in motion, whose glancing light, and beautiful rainbow hues, dazzle and weary the eye."

What shall we call them? | Piles of crystal light', |
A glorious company of golden streams',
Lamps of celestial e'ther, | burning bright—|
Suns, lighting systems with their joyous beams.? |
But thou to these, art as the noon to night. I

Yes, as a drop of water in the sea', |
All this magnificence in thee is lost! |

What are ten thousand worlds' compar'd to thee? |
And what am I' then? | Heaven's unnumber'd host, |
Though multiplied by myr'iads, | and array'd
In all the glory of sublimest thought, |
Is but an at'oma in the balance, weigh'd
Against thy greatness is a cypher brought
Against infinity! | What am I then? | Nought! |

Nought! But the effluence of thy light divine, |
Pervading worlds, | hath reach'd my bosom too; |
Yes! in my spirit doth thy spirit shine, |
As shines the sunbeam in a drop of dew. I
Nought! but I live, and on hope's pinions, fly, |
Eager towards thy presence; for in thee
I live', and breathe', and dwell; | aspiring high', |
E'en to the throne of thy divinity. |

I am, O God! and surely thou must be! |

Thou art directing, guiding all, | thou art' ! |
Direct my understanding, then, to thee. ; |
Control my spirit, guide my wandering heart : |
Though but an atoma midst immensity, |
Still I am something fashion'd by thy hand! |
I hold a middle rank 'twixt heaven, and earth', [
On the last verge of mortal being stand', |
Close to the realms where angels have their birth,!
Just on the boundaries of the spirit-land!

The chain of being is complete in me,
In me is matter's last gradation lost; |

But an atom; not but-ter-nat'tom.

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And the next step is spirit | Deity! |
I can command the light'ning, and am dust.!
A mon'arch, and a slave; | a worm', a God! |
Whence came I here? and how so marvellously
Constructed, and conceiv'd.? unknown. | This clod
Lives surely through some higher energy; |
For, from itself alone, | it could not be!

Creator, yes, thy wisdom, and thy word
Created me! Thou source of life, and good! |
Thou spirit of my spirit, and my Lord! |
Thy light, thy love, in their bright plenitude, |
Fill'd me with an immortal soul to spring
O'er the abyss of death, and bade it wear
The garments of eternal day, and wing
Its heavenly flight | beyond this little sphere, |
E'en to its source I to thee its Author there.


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O thoughts ineffable! | O visions blest!
Though worthless, our conceptions all of thee'; |
Yet shall thy shadow'd image fill our breast, |
And waft its homage to thy Deity.

God, thus alone my lowly thoughts can soar;
Thus seek thy presence, Being wise, and good! |
Midst thy vast works admire', Tobey', I adore;
And, when the tongue is eloquent no more, |
The soul shall speak in tears of gratitude. |


The exclusion of a Supreme Being, and of a superintending providence, tends directly to the destruction of moral taste. It robs the universe of all finished, and consummate ex'cellence, | even in idea. The admiration of perfect wisdom, and goodness for which we are formed, and which kindles such unspeakable

•Prov'è-dens; not provurdunce.

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