There, azure-robed beauty, with rapture-lit smile
Her golden wings folded, reclined for a while;
And the Seraph of Melody breathed but a word,
Then listened entranced at the echoes she heard.

From mountain and forest an organ-like tone,
From hill-top and valley a mellower one;

Stream, fountain, and fall, whispered low to the sod,
For the word that she spoke was the name of our God!

With blushes like Eden's own rose in its bloom,
Her censer slow wafting ambrosial perfume,—
With soft-veiling tresses of sunny-hued hair,
The spirit of fragrance breathed sweet on the air.

Then first on the ears of the angels of light,
Rose the singing of birds that enchanted the night,—
For the breezes are minstrels in Heaven, they say,
And the leaves and the flowers have a musical play.

Each form of creation with joy was surveyed,
From the gentle gazelle to the kings of the glade;
And lily-crowned Innocence gazed in the eyes
Of the thunder-voiced lion, with smiling surprise.

All night, as if stars were deserting their posts,
The heavens were bright with the swift-coming hosts!
While the sentinel mountains, in garments of green,
With glory-decked foreheads, like monarchs were seen.

O Eden, fair Eden! where now is thy bloom?

And where are the pure ones that wept o'er thy doom? Their plumes never lighten our shadowy skies,

Their voices no more on earth's breezes arise.

But joy for the faith that is strong in its powers, →

A fairer and better land yet shall be ours;

When Sin shall be vanquished, and Death yield his prey,
And earth with her nations Jehovah obey.

Then, nobler than Adam,-more charming than Eve,-
The Son of the Highest his palace shall leave,—
While the saints who adored Him arise from the tomb,
At the triumph-strain, telling" His Kingdom is come ""

LESSON LX.

GREENOUGH'S WASHINGTON.

THE quarry whence thy form majestic sprung
Has peopled earth with grace,

Heroes and gods that elder bards have sung,
A bright and peerless race;

But from its sleeping veins ne'er rose before
A shape of loftier name

Than his, who glory's name with meekness wore,
The noblest son of fame.

Sheathed is the sword that passion never stain'd, His gaze around is cast,

As if the joys of freedom newly-gained

Before his vision pass'd;

As if a nation's shout of love and pride

With music fill'd the air,

And his calm soul was lifted on the tide

Of deep and grateful prayer; As if the crystal mirror of his life

To fancy sweetly came,

With scenes of patient toil and noble strife,
Undimm'd by doubt or shame;

As if the lofty purpose of his soul
Expression would betray-

The high resolve ambition to control
And thrust her crown away?

O, it was well in marble firm and white

To carve our hero's form,

Whose angel guidance was our strength in fight,

Our star amid the storm!

And it is well to place his image there,

Beneath the dome he blest;

Let meaner spirits who its councils share,
Revere that silent guest!

Let us go up with high and sacred love
To look on his pure brow,

And as with solemn grace he points above,
Renew the patriot's vow!

LESSON LXI.

IMAGINARY DEDICATION OF A HEATHEN TEMPLE.

As we drew near to the lofty fabric, I thought that no scene of such various beauty and magnificence, had ever met my eye. The temple itself is a work of unrivaled art. In size, it surpasses any other building of the same kind in Rome, and for the excellence of workmanship, and purity of design, although it may fall below the standard of Hadrian's age, yet for a certain air of grandeur, and luxuriance of invention, in its details, and lavish profusion of embellishment in gold and silver, no temple nor other edifice of any preceding age, ever perhaps resembled it.

Its order is Corinthian, of the Roman form, and the entire building is surrounded by its slender columns, each composed of a single piece of marble. Upon the front is wrought Apollo surrounded by the Hours.

The western extremity is approached by a flight of steps, of the same breadth as the temple itself. At the eastern, there extends beyond the walls, to a distance equal to the length of the building, a marble platform, upon which stands the altar of sacrifice, and which is ascended by various flights of steps, some little more than a gently rising plain, up which the beasts are led that are destined to the altar.

When this vast extent of wall and column, of the most dazzling brightness, came into view, every where covered, together with the surrounding temples, palaces, and theatres, with a dense mass of human beings, of all climes and regions, dressed out in their richest attire, music, from innumerable instruments, filling the heavens with harmony,-shouts of the proud and excited populace, every few moments, and from different points, as Aurelian advanced, shaking the air with its thrilling din,—the neighing of horses, the frequent blasts of the trumpet,-the whole made more solemnly imposing by the vast masses of cloud, which swept over the sky, now suddenly unveiling, and again eclipsing the sun, the great god of this idolatry, and from which few could withdraw their gaze; when, at once, this all broke upon my eye and ear, I was like a child who before had never seen aught but his own village, and his own rural temple, in the effect wrought upon me, and the passiveness with which I abandoned myself to the sway of the senses. Not one there was more ravished by the outward circumstances and show. I thought of Rome's thousand years, of her power, her greatness, and universal empire, and, for a moment, my step was not less proud than that of Aurelian.

But after that moment,-when the senses had had their fill, when the eye had seen the glory, and the ear had fed upon the harmony and the praise, then I thought and felt very differently; sorrow and compassion, for these gay multitudes, were in my heart; prophetic forebodings of disaster, danger, and ruin to those, to whose sacred cause I had linked myself, made my tongue to falter in its speech, and my limbs. to tremble. I thought that the superstition, which was upheld by the wealth and the power, whose manifestations were before me, had its root in the very centre of the earth,-far too deep down, for a few, like myself, ever to reach them. I was like one whose last hope of life and escape, is suddenly struck away.

I was roused from these meditations, by our arrival at the eastern front of the temple. Between the two central columns, on a throne of gold and ivory, sat the emperor of the world, surrounded by the senate, the colleges of augurs and haruspices, and by the priests of the various temples of the capital, all in their peculiar costume. Then Fronto, the priest of the temple, when the crier had proclaimed that the hour of worship and sacrifice had come, and had commanded silence to be observed, standing at the altar, glittering in his white and golden robes, like a messenger of light,— bared his head, and lifting his face up toward the sun, offered, in clear and sounding tones, the prayer of dedication.

As he came toward the close of his prayer, he, as is so usual, with loud and almost frantic cries, and importunate repetition, called upon the god to hear him, and then, with appropriate names and praises, invoked