Go forth under the open sky, and list

To Nature's teachings, while from all around-
Earth and her waters, and the depths of air-
Comes a still voice- - Yet a few days, and thee
The all-beholding sun shall see no more

In all his course; nor yet in the cold ground,
Where thy pale form was laid, with many tears,
Nor in the embrace of ocean, shall exist

Thy image. Earth, that nourished thee, shall claim
Thy growth, to be resolved to earth again;
And, lost each human trace, surrendering up
Thine individual being, shalt thou go

To mix forever with the elements;
To be a brother to the insensible rock,

And to the sluggish clod, which the rude swain
Turns with his share, and treads upon.
The oak
Shall send his roots abroad, and pierce thy mould
Yet not to thy eternal resting-place

Shalt thou retire alone nor couldst thou wish
Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down
With patriarchs of the infant world—with kings,
The powerful of the earth-the wise, the good,
Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past,
All in one mighty sepulchre. The hills
Rock-ribbed, and ancient as the sun; the vales,
Stretching in pensive quietness between ;
The venerable woods; rivers, that move
In majesty, and the complaining brooks,
That make the meadows green; and, poured round al
Old ocean's gray and melancholy waste, -

Are but the solemn decorations all

Of the great tomb of man! The golden sun,
The planets, all the infinite host of heaven,
Are shining on the sad abodes of death,
Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread
The globe are but a handful to the tribes
That slumber in its bosom. Take the wings
Of morning, and the Barcan desert pierce,
Or lose thyself in the continuous woods
Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound,
Save his own dashings - yet the dead are there!
And millions in those solitudes, since first
The flight of years began, have laid them down
In their last sleep- the dead reign there alone!
So shalt thou rest; and what if thou shalt fall

Unnoticed by the living, and no friend

Take note of thy departure? All that breathe
Will share thy destiny. The gay will laugh
When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care
Plod on, and each one, as before, will chase
His favorite phantom; yet all these shall leave
Their mirth and their employments, and shall come
And make their bed with thee. As the long train
Of ages glide away, the sons of men—

The youth in life's green spring, and he who goes
In the full strength of years, matron, and maid,
The bowed with age, the infant in the smiles
And beauty of its innocent age cut off —
Shall, one by one, be gathered to thy side,
By those who in their turn shall follow them.

So live, that when thy summons comes, to join
The innumerable caravan, that moves

To the pale realms of shade, where each shall take
His chamber in the silent halls of death,

Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night,
Scourged to his dungeon; but, sustained and soothed
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.

CHILD RESCUED FROM THE EAGLE.

S. S. ADVOCATE.

AN eagle in the zenith hung,

And watched a babe's bright eyes,
Then sudden stooped, and fiercely sprung
Upon the beauteous prize.

He seized him by a girdle, tied

Around him loose and free;

See how they mount, and how they ride
O'er land and stormy sea!

A while he hangs, then speeds his flight
Swift as the lightning's wing;
And now upon the sea-rock's height
Stands the proud feathered king.

And here he drops the astonished child
Amidst his own fierce brood;

The rock is rough, the nest is wild,

And the cliff with bones is strewed.

She comes! she comes! the pathless steep
Cannot her flight deter;

She flies! she flies! for the angels keep,
And the road is smooth for her.

A shepherd had watched the eagle's way,
And he told the mother the spot;
"O kneel," he cried, "and in agony pray,
For mortal can save him not!"

But rapid as light, o'er precipice, height,
And cavern and cliff and hollow,
Like an angel she flew, with a footstep true,
Where the bravest could not follow.

On, on, she flies, and her fire-bright eyes
Are fixed on the babe: meanwhile

He knoweth her well, and his heart doth swell,
And his lips begin to smile.

She is quivering now on the precipice brow!
She hath reached the eagle's nest !

The wild bird screams, and the lightning gleams,
But the babe is on her breast.

She stayed not to look, but her course she took Adown that perilous road:

For the seraphim fleet directed her feet,

And the lightning her pathway showed.

O! a mother's love is the mightiest thing
That our sinful earth may boast;

It is swifter by far than the lightning's wing,
And strong as an angel host.

She is safe! she is safe! and her rescued dove
Will be dreaming sweet dreams ere long,

Of a ride above, and an angel of love,-
O an angel swift and strong!

188

POETICAL DECLAMATIONS

MY UNMARRIED AUNT.

0. W. HOLMES.

My aunt! my dear unmarried aunt!
Long years have o'er her flown;
Yet still she strains the aching clasp
That binds her virgin zone;

I know it hurts her, though she looks
As cheerful as she can;

Her waist is ampler than her life,
For life is but a span.

My aunt! my poor deluded aunt!
Her hair is almost gray;
Why will she train that winter curl
In such a spring-like way?
How can she lay her glasses down,
And say she reads as well,
When, through a double convex lens,
She just makes out to spell?

Her father-grandpapa! forgive
This erring lip its smiles-

Vowed she would make the finest girl

Within a hundred miles.

He sent her to a stylish school;

'T was in her thirteenth June; And with her, as the rules required, "Two towels and a spoon.'

They braced my aunt against a board,
To make her straight and tall;

They laced her up, they starved her down,
To make her light and small;

They pinched her feet, they singed her hair,
They screwed it up with pins;

O, never mortal suffered more
In penance for her sins!

So, when my precious aunt was done,
My grandsire brought her back;
(By daylight, lest some rabid youth
Might follow on the track ;)

"Ah!" said my grandsire, as he shook
Some powder in his pan,

Alas! nor chariot, nor barouche,

Nor bandit cavalcade,

Tore from the father's trembling arms
His all-accomplished maid.
For her how happy had it been!
And heaven had spared to me
To see one sad, ungathered rose
On my ancestral tree.

THE SEA.

J. C. M'CABE.

Oн, had I my wish, in my pride I would be

A wild careless rover upon the wide sea!

Oh, the glorious sea, with the proud dashing foam,
Should be to the wanderer his fearless bark's home!

What though storm and tempest should sweep in their wrath
On the waves of the deep; and along my wild path,
The fierce hissing lightning like serpents should twine,
And the phosphoric billows should gloomily shine -

Yet away, yet away, over breaker and wave,

I would heedless dash, and their rude dangers brave;
Each feeling of fear in my bosom should sleep,
As proudly my bark cut her way through the deep.

Huzza for the sea! the all glorious sea!
Its might is so wondrous, its spirit so free!

And its billows beat time to each pulse of my soul,
Which, impatient, like them, cannot yield to control.

Oh! who would not live on the ocean so wide,
When its billows look bright as the smile of a bride?
And who would not glory his vigils to keep,
With the stars o'er his head, and around him

THE DEEP!

'T was my cradle in childhood, that ocean so proud,

And in death let me have its bright waves for my shroud!
Let no sad tears be shed, when I die, over me,

But bury me deep in the sea, in the sea!

-

H