XVIII. MAGNIFICENCE OF MOUNTAIN SCENERY.

WHAT lonely magnificence stretches around!

Each sight how sublime! and how awful each sound!
All hush'd and serene, as a region of dreams,
The mountains repose 'mid the roar of the streams.
Their glens of black umbrage by cataracts riven,
But calm their blue tops in the beauty of heaven.
Here the glory of nature hath nothing to fear-
Ay! Time the destroyer in power hath been here;
And the forest that hung on yon mountain so high,
Like a black thunder cloud on the arch of the sky,
Hath gone, like a cloud, when the tempest came by.
Deep sunk in the black moor, all worn and decay'd,
Where the floods have been raging, the limbs are display'd,
Of the pine tree and oak, sleeping vast in the gloom,-
The kings of the forest disturb'd in their tomb.
E'en now in the pomp of their prime I behold,
O'erhanging the desert, the forests of old!

So gorgeous their verdure, so solemn their shade,
Like the heavens above them, they never may fade:
The sunlight is on them, in silence they sleep-
A glimmering glow, like the breast of the deep,
When the billows scarce heave in the calmness of morn,
Down the pass of Glen-Etive the tempest is borne,—
And the hill-side is swinging, and roars with a sound
In the heart of the forest, embosom'd profound,
Till all in a moment the tumult is o'er,

And the mountain of thunder is still as the shore
When the sea is at ebb; not a leaf nor a breath,
To disturb the wild solitude, stedfast as death.

'PROFESSOR WILSON

XIX.-FORGET ME NOT.

THE star that shines so pure and bright,
Like a far-off place of bliss,

And tells the broken-hearted

There are brighter worlds than this;
The moon that courses through the sky,
Like man's uncertain doom,--
Now shining bright with borrow'd light,
Now wrapp'd in deepest gloom,-

Or when eclipsed-a dreary blank-
A fearful emblem given

Of the heart shut out by a sinful world
From the blessed light of heaven;-

The flower that freely casts its weal
Of perfume on the gale;

The breeze that mourns the summer's close With melancholy wail;

The stream that cleaves the mountain side, Or gurgles from the grot

All speak in their Creator's name,

And say "Forget me not.”

When man's vain heart is swollen with pride,
And his haughty lip is curl'd,

And from the scorner's seat he smiles
Contempt upon the world;

Where glitter crowns and coronets
Like stars that gem the skies,

And flattery's incense rises thick
To blind a monarch's eyes;
Where the courtier's tongue with facile lie
A royal ear beguiles;

Where suitors live on promises,

And sycophants on smiles:

Where each as in a theatre

Is made to play his part;

Where the diadem hides a troubled brow,
And the star an aching heart :-
There, even there, 'mid pomp and power,
Is oft a voice that calls
"Forget me not, "-in thunder

Throughout the palace walls.

Go, hie thee to the rank churchyard,
Where flits the shadowy ghost,
And see how little pride has left
Whereon to raise a boast:

See beauty claiming sisterhood

With the noisome reptile worm

Oh, where are all the graces fled

That once array'd her form!

Fond hope no more on smiles will feed
Nor wither at her frown :-

Her head will rest more quiet now
Than when it slept on down.
With cloven crest and bloody shroud
The once proud warrior lies:-
And the patriot's heart hath not a throb
To give to a nation's cries.

A solemn voice will greet thine ear
As thou lingerest round the spot,
And call from out the sepulchre,—
Frail man," Forget me not.”

"Forget me not," the thunder roars,
As it bursts its sulphury cloud,

'Tis murmur'd by the distant hills
In echoes long and loud:

"Tis written by the Almighty's hand
In characters of flame,

When the lightnings gleam with vivid flash,
And His wrath and power proclaim.
"Tis murmur'd when the white wave falls
Upon the wreck-strewn shore,

As a hoary warrior bows his crest,
When the day of battle's o'er.

Go! speed thee forth when the beamy sun
O'erthrows the reign of night,

And strips the scene of its misty robe,
And arrays it in diamonds bright;-
Oh! as thou drinkest health and joy
In the fresh and balmy air,
"Forget me not"-in a still small voice,
Will surely greet thee there.

Oh! who that sees the vermil cheek
Grow day by day more pale,
And beauty's form shrink before
The summer's gentlest gale;
But thinks of Him, the Mighty one,
By whom ne blow is given,
As if the fairest flowers of earth

Were early pluck'd for Heaven.

O yes! on every side we see

The impress of His hand;

The air we breathe is full of him,

And the earth on which we stand;

Yet heedless man regards it not,
But life's uncertain day

In idle hopes and vain regrets
Thus madly wastes away.

But in His own appointed time,
He will not be forgot-

Oh! in that hour of fearful strife,

Great God! "Forget me not."

W. H. HARRISON.

XX. THE MESSIAH-A SACRED ECLOGUE.

RAPT into future times, the Bard begun :
A Virgin shall conceive, a Virgin bear a son!
From Jesse's root behold a branch arise,

Whose sacred flower with fragrance fills the skies:
The ethereal Spirit o'er its leaves shall move,
And on its top descends the mystic dove.
Ye heavens! from high the dewy nectar pour,
And in soft silence shed the kindly shower!

The sick and weak the healing plant shall aid,
From storms a shelter, and from heat a shade.
All crimes shall cease, and ancient fraud shall fail,
Returning Justice lift aloft her scale;

Peace o'er the world her olive wand extend,
And white-rob'd Innocence from heaven descend.
Swift fly the years, and rise the expected morn!
Oh spring to light, auspicious Babe! be born.
See Nature hastes her earliest wreathes to bring,
With all the incense of the breathing spring:
See lofty Lebanon his head advance;
See nodding forests on the mountains dance;
See spicy clouds from lowly Sharon rise,
And Carmel's flowery top perfumes the skies!
Hark! a glad voice the lonely desert cheers;
Prepare the way! a God, a God appears!
A God, a God! the vocal hills reply,
The rocks proclaim the approaching Deity.
Lo, earth receives him from the bending skies!
Sink down, ye mountains! and ye valleys, rise!
With heads declin'd, ye cedars, homage pay;
Be smooth, ye rocks! ye rapid floods, give way!
The Saviour comes! by ancient bards foretold;
Hear him, ye deaf! and all ye blind, behold!
He from thick films shall purge the visual ray;
And on the sightless eyeball pour the day:
"Tis he the obstructed paths of sound shall clear,
And bid new music charm the unfolding ear:
The dumb shall sing, the lame his crutch forego,
And leap exulting like the bounding roe.
No sigh, no murmur the wide world shall hear,
From every face he wipes off every tear.
In adamantine chains shall death be bound,
And Hell's grim tyrant feel the eternal wound.
As the good shepherd tends his fleecy care,
Seeks freshest pasture, and the purest air,
Explores the lost, the wandering sheep directs,
By day o'ersees them, and by night protects;
The tender lambs he raises in his arms,
Feeds from his hand, and in his bosom warms:
Thus shall mankind his guardian care engage,
The promised father of the future age.
No more shall nation against nation rise,
Nor ardent warriors meet with hateful eyes:
Nor fields with gleaming steel be cover'd o'er ;
The brazen trumpets kindle rage no more;
But useless lances into scythes shall bend,
And the broad falchion in a ploughshare end.
Then palaces shall rise; the joyful son
Shall finish what his short-liv'd sire begun :
Their vines a shadow to their race shall yield,

And the same hand that sow'd, shall reap the field.
The swain in barren deserts, with surprise,
Sees lilies spring, and sudden verdure rise:
And starts amidst the thirsty wilds to hear
New falls of water murmuring in his ear.
On rifted rocks, the dragon's late abodes,
The green reed trembles, and the bulrush nods;
Waste sandy valleys, once perplex'd with thorn,
The spiry fir and shapely box adorn;

To leafless shrubs the flowering palms succeed,
And odorous myrtle to the noisome weed.

The lambs with wolves shall graze the verdant mead,
And boys in flowery bands the tiger lead.
The steer and lion at one crib shall meet,
And harmless serpents lick the pilgrim's feet.
The smiling infant in his hand shall take
The crested basilisk and speckled snake,
Pleased the green lustre of their scales survey,
And with their forky tongues shall innocently play.
Rise, crown'd with light, imperial Salem, rise!
Exalt thy towery head, and lift thy eyes;
See a long race thy spacious courts adorn,
See future sons, and daughters yet unborn,
In crowding ranks on every side arise,
Demanding life, impatient for the skies!
See barbarous nations at thy gates attend,
Walk in thy light, and in thy temples bend:
See thy bright altars throng'd with prostrate kings,
And heap'd with products of Sabæan springs!
For thee Idume's spicy forests blow,
And seeds of gold in Ophir's mountains glow.
See heaven its sparkling portals wide display,
And break upon thee in a flood of day;
No more the rising sun shall gild the morn,
Nor evening Cynthia fill her silver horn;
But lost, dissolv'd in thy superior rays,
One tide of glory, one unclouded blaze,
O'erflow thy courts; the Light himself shall shine
Reveal'd, and God's eternal day be thine!
The seas shall waste, the skies in smoke decay,
Rocks fall to dust, and mountains melt away:
But fix'd his word, his saving power remains;
Thy realm for ever lasts, thy own Messiah reigns!

POPE.

XXI.-THE SABBATH.

How still the morning of the hallow'd day!
Mute is the voice of rural labour, hush'd

The ploughboy's whistle, and the milkmaid's song.