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625. DARKNEss. I had a dream, which was not all a dream. The bright sun was extinguished, and the stars Did wander, darkling, in the eternal space, Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth 8wung blind,and blackening, in the moonless air; Morn came, and went—and came, and bro’t no And men forgot their passions, in the dread [day; Of this their desolation; and all hearts Were chilled—into a selfish prayer for light: And they did live by watch-fires; and the thrones, The palaces of crowned kings, the huts, The habitations of all things, which dwell,— Were burnt for beacons ; cities were consumed, And men wore gather'd round their blazing homes, To look once more into each other's face: Happy were those who dwelt within the eye Of the volcanoes, and their mountain torch. A fearful hope—was all—the world contained: Forests were set on fire; but, hour by hour, They fell, and faded, and the crackling trunks Extinguished with a crash, and all was black. The brows of men, by the despairing light, Wore an unearthly aspect, as, by fits, The flashes fell upon them. Some lay down, And hid their eyes, and wept ; and some did rest Their chins upon their clenched hands, and smil’d; And others hurried to and fro, and fed Their funeral piles with fuel, and looked up, With mad disquietude, on the dull sky, The pall of a past world; and then again, With curses, cast them down upon the dust, And gnashed their teeth, and howled. The wild birds shrieked, And, terrified, did flutter on the ground, And flap their useless wings: the wildest brutes Came tame, and tremulous; and vipers crawled And twined themselves among the multitude, Hissing, but stingless—they were slain for food. And War, which for a moment was no more, Did glut himself again—a meal was bought With blood, and each sat sullenly apart, Gorging himself in gloom: no love was left; All earth was but one thought—and that was Immediate and inglorious ; and men [death, Died, and their bones mere as tombless as their The meagre by the meagre were devoured;[flesh: Even dogs assailed their nasters—all save one, And he was faithful to a corse, and kept The birds, and beasts, and famished men, at bay, Till hunger clung them, or the dropping dead Lured their lank jaws; himself, sought out no But, with a piteous, and perpetual moan, [food, And a quick, desolate cry, licking the hand Which answered not with a caress—he died. The crowd was famished by degress; but two Of an enormous city did survive, And they were enemies; they met beside The dying embers—of an altar-place, Where had been heaped a mass of holy things, For an unholy usage; they raked up, [hands, And, shivering, scraped, with their cold, skeleton The feeble ashes, and their feeble breath Blew for a little life, and made a flame, Which was a mockery; then they listed Their eyes as it grew lighter, and beheld Each other's aspects; saw, and shriek'd, and died,

Even of their mutual hideousness they died, Unknowing who he was, upon whose brow— Famine had written fiend. The world was void; The populous, and the powerful was a lumpSeasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, lifeless; A lump of death—a chaos of hard clay. The rivers, lakes, and ocean, all stood still, And nothing stirred, within their silent depths; Ships, sailorless, lay rotting on the sea,[dropped, And their masts fell down piecemeal; as they They slept, on the abyss, without a surge: The waves were dead; the tides were in their grave; The moon, their mistress, had expired before; The winds were withered in the stagnant air, And the clouds perished; Darkness had no need Of aid from them; she—was the universe.—By’n. 626. TRUE PLEAsts RE DEFINEn. We are affected with delightful sensations, when we see the inanimate parts of the creation, the meadows, flowers, and trees, in a flourishing state. There must be some rooted melancholy at the heart, when all nature appears smiling about us, to hinder us from corresponding with the rest of the creation, and joining in the universal chorus of joy. But if meadows and trees, in their cheerful verdure, if flowers, in their bloom, and all the vegetable parts of the creation, in their most advantageous dress, can inspire gladness into the heart, and drive away all sadness but despair; to see the rational creation happy, and ourishing, ought to i. us a pleasure as much superior, as the latter is to the former, in the scale of being. But the pleasure is still heightened, if we ourselves have been instrumental, in contributing to the happiness of our fellow-creatures, if we have helped to raise a heart, drooping beneath the weight of grief, and revived that barren and dry land, where no water was, with refreshing Wets of love and kindness. the wilderness of MixD. There is a wilderness, more dark Than groves of fir—on Huron's shore; And in that cheerless region, hark: How serpents hiss: how monsters roar: 'Tis not among the untrodden isles, Of vast Superior's stormy lake, Where social comfort never smiles, Nor sunbeams—pierce the tangled brake: Nor, is it in the deepest shade, Of India's tiger-haunted wood; Nor western forests, unsurvey'd, Where crouching panthers—lurk for blood; 'Tis in the dark, uncultur'd soul, By Education unrefin’d— Where hissing Malice, Vices foul, And all the hateful Passions prowlThe frightful WILDEnness of MIND. Were man But constant, he were perfect; that one errorFills him with faults; makes him run through all sins; Inconstancy—falls off—ere it begins. Vice is a monster of such hateful mien, That, to be hated—needs but to be seen; Yet, seen too oft—familiar with her face, We first endure, then pity, then embrace.

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629. PERRr's Victory. Were anything wanting, to perpetuate the fame of this victory, it §o be sufficiently memorable, from the scene where it was fought. This war has been distinguished, by new and peculiar characteristics. Naval warfare has been carried into the exterior of a continent, and navies, as if by magic, launched from among the depths of the forest The bosom of peace#. which, but a short time since, were scarcely navigated by man, except to be skimmed by the light canoe of the savage, have all at once been ploughed by hostile ships. The vast silence, that had reigned, for ages, on these mighty waters, was broken by the thunder of artillery, and the aflrighted savage—stared, with amazement, from his covert, at the sudden apparition of a seafight, amid the solitudes of the wilderness.

The peal of war has once sounded on that lake, but probably, will never sound again. The last roar of cannon, that died along her shores, was the expiring note of British domination. Those vast, eternal seas will, perhaps, never again be the separating space, between contending nations; but § be embosomed—within a mighty empire; and this victory, which decided their fate, will stand unrivalled, and alone, deriving lustre, and perpetuity, from its singleness.

In future times, when the shores of Erie shall hum with a busy population; when towns, and cities, shals brighten, where now, extend the dark tangled forest; when ports shall spread their arms, and lofty barks shall ride, where now the canoe is fastened to the stake; when the present age shall have grown into venerable antiquity, and the mists of fable begin to gather round its history, then, will the inhabitants of Canada look back to this battle we record, as one of the romantic achievements of the days of yore. It will stand first on the page of their local legends, and in the marvellous tales of the borders. The fisherman, as he loiters along the beach, will point to some half-buried cannon, corroded with the rust of time, and will s of ocean warriors, that came from the shores of the Atlantic; while the boatman, as he trims his sail to the breeze, will chant, in rude ditties, the name of Perry, the early hero of Lake Erie.—Irving.

THE SLANDERER.

'Twas Slander, filled her mouth, with lying words,
Slander, the foulest whelp of Sin. The man,
In whom this spirit entered, was undone.
His tongue—was set on fire of hell, his heart—
Was black as death, his legs were faint with haste
To propagate the lie, his soul had framed.
His pillow—was the peace of families
Destroyed, the sigh of innocence reproached,
Broken friendships, and the strife of brotherhoods;
Yet did he spare his sleep, and hear the clock
Number the midnight watches, on his bed,
Devising mischief more; and early rose,
And made most hellish meals of good men's names.
From door to door, you might have seen him speed,
Or, placed amidst a group of gaping fools,
And whispering in their ears, with his foul lips;
Peace fled the neighborhood, in which he made
His haunts; and, like a moral pestilence,
Before his breath—the healthy shoots and blooms
Of social joy and happiness, decayed.
Fools only, in his company were seen,

And those, forsaken of God, and to themselves giv.
The prudent shunned him, and his house, [en up.
As one, who had a deadly moral plague;
And sain all would have shunned him, at the day
Of judgment; but in vain. All, who gave ear,
With greediness, or, wittingly, their tongues
Made herald to his lies, around him wailed;
While on his face, thrown back by injured men,
In characters of ever-blushing shame,
Appeared ten thousand slanders, all his own.
630. Thur FR1ENnship. Damon and Py-
thias, of the Pythagorean sect in philosophy
lived in the time of Dionysius, the tyrant of
Sicily. ...Their mutual friendship was so
strong, that they were ready to die for one
another. One of the two, (for it is not known
which,) being condemned to death, by the ty-
rant, obtained leave to go into his own coun-
try, to settle his affairs, on condition, that the
other should consent to be imprisoned in his
stead, and put to death for him, if he did not
return, before the day of execution. The at-
tention of every one, and especially of the ty-
rant himself, was excited to the highest o
as every body was curious, to see what would
be the event of so strange an affair. When
the time was almost elapsed, and he who was
gone did not appear; the rashness of the oth-
er, whose sanguine friendship had put him
upon running so seemingly desperate a haz-
ard, was universally blamed. But he still de-
clared, that he had not the least, shadow of
doubt in his mind, of his friend's fidelity. The
event showed how well he knew him. He
came in due time, and surrendered himself to
that fate, which he had no reason to think he
should escape ; and which he did not desire
to escape, by leaving his friend to suffer in
his place. Such fidelity softened, even the
savage heart of Dionysius himself. He par-
doned the condemned; he gave the two
friends to one another, and begged that they
would take himself in for a third.
The cort AL Grove.
Deep—in the wave, is a coral grove,
Where the purple mullet, and gold-fish rove,
Where the sea-flower—spreads its leaves of blue,
That never are wet, with fallen dew,
But in bright and changeful beauty shine,
Far down in the green, and glassy brine.
The floor is of sand, like the mountain drift,
And the pearl-shells spangle the flinty snow;
From coral rocks the sea-plants lift
Their bows, where the tides and billows flow;
The water is calm and still below,
For the winds and the waves are absent there,
And the sands—are bright as the stars, that glow
In the motionless fields of upper air:
There, with its waving blade of green,
The sea-flag streams through the silent water,
And the crimson leaf of the pulse is seen
To blush, like a banner, bathed in slaughter:
There, with a light and easy motion,
The fan-coral sweeps through the clear deep sea;
And the yellow and scarlet tufts of ocean,
Are bending like corn, on the upland lea:
And life, in rare and beautiful forms,
Is sporting amid those bowers of stone,
And is safe, when the wrathful Spirit of storms,
Has made the top of the waves his own.

Pride goeth before destruction.

631. Bhutts' HARANGUE ox CESAR’s DEAth. Romans, countrymen, and lovers! hear me—for my cause; and be silent, that you may hear. Believe me—for mine honor; and have respect to mine honor, that you may believe. Censure me in your wisdom; and awake your senses, that you may the better judge. If there be any, in this assembly, any dear friend of Cesar’s, to him I say that Brutus’ love to Cesar—was no less than his. If, then, that friend demand, why Brutus—rose against Cesar, this is my answer: Not that I loved Cesar——less, but, that I loved Rome more. Had you rather Cesar were living, and die all slaves; than that Cesar were dead, to live all freemen! As Cesar loved me, I weep for him; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I honor him; but, as he was ambitious, I slew him. There are tears for his love, joy—for his fortune, honor—for his valor, and death—for his ambition. Who's here so base, that would be a bondman if any, speak; for him—have I offended. Who's here so rude, that would not be a Roman' if any, speak! for him—have I offended. Who's here so vile, that will not love his country if any, speak; for him—have I offended.—I pause for a reply. None! then none——have I offended. I have done no more to Cesar, than you should do to Brutus. The question of his death—is enrolled in the capitol; his glory not extenuated, wherein he was worthy; nor his offences enforced, for which he suffered death. Here comes his body, mourned by Mark Antony; who, though he had no hand in his death, shall receive the benefit of his dying, a place in the commonwealth; as, which of you shall not!—With this I depart—that as I slew my best lover—for the good of Rome, I have the same dagger for myself, when it shall please my country to need my death.

633. Accomplish Ed YoUNG LADY. She shone, at every concert; where are bought Tickets, by all who wish them, for a dollar; She patronised the theatre, and thought, That Wallack looked extremely well in Rolla; She fell in love, as all the ladies do, With Mr. Simpson—talked as loudly, too,

As any beauty of the highest grade,
To the gay circle in the box beside her:
And when the pit—half vexed, and half afraid,
With looks of smothered indignation eyed her;
She calmly met their gaze, and stood before 'em,
Smiling at vulgar taste, and mock decorum.

And though by no means a “Bas bleu,” she had
For literature, a most becoming passion;
Had skimmed the latest novels, good, and bad,
And read the Croakers, when they were in
fashion;
And Dr. Chalmers' sermons, of a Sunday; [gundi.
And Woodworth's Cabinet, and the new Salma-

She was among the first, and warmest patrons
Of G******'s conversaziones, where, [matrons,
In rainbow groups, our bright eyed maids, and
On science bent, assemble; to prepare
Themselves for acting well, in life, their part,
As wives and mothers. There she learn'd by heart

Words, to the witches in Macbeth unknown, Hydraulics, hydrostatics, and pneumatics,

Dioptrics, optics, katoptrics, carbon,
Chlorine, and iodine, and aerostatics;
Also, why frogs, for want of air, expire;
And how to set the Tappan sea on fire!
In all the modern languages, she was
Exceedingly well versed; and had devoted,
To their attainment, far more time than has,
By the best teachers lately, been allotted;
For she had taken lessons, twice a week,
For a full month in each; and she could speak

French and Italian, equally as well As Chinese, Portuguese, or German; and What is still more surprising, she could spell Most of our longest English words, off hand; Was quite familiar in Low Dutch and Spanish, And tho’t of studying modern Greek and Danish. She sang divinely: and in “Love's young dream,” And “Fanny dearest,” and “The soldier's bride;” And every song whose dear delightful theme, Is “Love, still love,” had of till midnight tried Her finest, loftiest pigeon-wings of sound, Waking the very watchmen far around.—Halleck. 633. CHAR1ty. Though I speak—with the tongues of men, and o: angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing. And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing. Charity—suffereth §. and is kind; charity—envieth not; charity—vaunteth not itself; it is not pufled up; doth not behave itself unseemly; seeketh not her own; is not easily provoked; thinketh no evil; rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. Charity—never faileth: but whether there be prophecies, they shall fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away. For we know, in part, and we prophecy, in part. But, when that which is o is come, then that, which is in part, shall be done away. When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things. For now, we see Ho a glass, darkly; but then, face to face: now, I know in part; but then, shall I know, even as also I am known. And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity.—St Paul. Early Rising AND PRAY Ert. When first thy eyes unvail, give thy soul leave To do the like; our bodies—but forerun The spirit's duty; true hearts—spread and heave Unto their God, as flowers do—to the sun; Give him thy first thots then, so—shall thou keep Him company—all day, and in him—sleep. Yet never sleep the sun up; prayer—should Dawn with the day; there are set—awful hours— *Twixt heaven and us; the manna—was not good After sun rising; for day—sullies flowers: Rise—to prevent the sun; sleep–doth sins glut, And heaven's gate opens, when the world's is shut. Converse with nature's charms, and see her stores unroll'i.

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