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THE ALPS.

—— Aeove me are the Alps,

The palaces of nature, whose vast walls,
Have pinnacled in clouds their snowy

scalps,
Aod throned eternity, in icy halls
Of cold suhlimity, where forms and falls
The avalanche—the thunderholt of snow!
All that expands the spirit, yet appals,
Gather around these summits, as to show
How earth may pierce to heaven, yet leave
vain man helow.

THE ALPS AT DAY-BREAK.

rogERS.

The sun-heams streak the azure skies, And line with light the mountain's hrow;

With hounds and horns the hunters rise,
And chase the roehuck through the snow.

From rock to rock, with giant-hound,
High on their iron poles they pass;

Mute, lest the air, convulsed hy sound,
Rend from ahove a frozen mass.

The goats wind slow their wonted way,
Up craggy steeps and ridges rude;

Mark'd hy the wild wolf for his prey,
From desert cave or hanging wood.

And while the torrent thunders loud,
And as the echoing cliffs reply,

The huts peep o'er the morning cloud,
Perch'd like an eagle's nest on high.

SNOWDON, IN A NIGHT STORM.

ANON.

'Tis eve I The sun's last rays are glimmering still On Snowdon'scrested summit, and around His granite rocks flows the deep hosomed rill

In solitude and loveliness. Its sound,
As with an angel-voice of peace profound
Whispers to heaven: and see—the sultry

fires Of day more faintly yon deep crags surround; Slowly even now each western heam retires, Fades, lightens o'er the wave, and with a smile expires.

Night, utter night succeeds.—Ahove—

helow All deepens slowly in one hlackening

gloom; Dark are the heavens, as is the front of

wo,— Dark as the mountain-prospects,—as the

tomh. Even as I slow descend, a fearful doom Weighs heavy on my heart, fhe hird of

night Screams from her straw-huilt nest as from

the womh Of infant death, and wheels her drowsy

flight, Amid the pine-clad rocks with wonder and

affright.

The note of wo is hushed; peace reigns

around In utter solitude; the night hreeze dies Faint on the mountain-ash leaves that

surround Snowdon's dark peaks—But hark .' again

the cries Of the scared owl, loud hymning to the

skies Her tale of desolation! Fearfully Night lengthens out the note;—the echo

flies From rock to rock; now whispering

shrilly hy— Now in the distance softened, lingering

mournfully.

Heaven smiles on earth again—the glimmering star

Pours in mild lustre down his full-orhed light;

And see his mistress in her hurnished car

Beams on the view!—At the refulgent sight

The clouds sail hy in homage, and the

night Weleomes her as a friend ;—the heavenly

train Of satellites attend her in her flight From pole to pole; while a full-chorused

strain Of heaven's own music swells and dies again.

Brightly she moves on in her loveliness!

The fair-haired regent of the sky!—Her smiles

Soothe the stern horrors of the scene, and hless

Nature's calm slumher; o'er yon splintered piles

Of heetling crags, how sweetly she heguiles

Gloom of its frown; and, see I the glittering rill

Heaves conscious of her presence, and reviles,

With murmuring voice, yon proudly frowning hill, That scorns meek Dian's gaze, and mocks her gentle will.

A sound rolls hy of horror !—on the wind

Rides the dark-hosomed Demon of the storm;

Whirlwinds with meteor-splendor, crowd hehind,

A nrt heaven peals out the trumpet of alarm.

Hark! from yon murky cloud with lightning warm,

A voice of death proceeds!—The Majesty

Of Heaven displays around its harrowing form !—

Hark! God in all his power is riding hy I Heard ye his chariot wheels sweep echoing thro' the sky?

He speaks! scared nature tremhles at the

sound; Earth, air, sky, ocean, dictate a reply; The mountain-rock tolls out the voice

profound, And woodland echo multiplies the cry :— Clashed with the night-owl's scream, along

the sky Rolls the live thunder; thros the forest

caves,

Dim flashes the hlue lightuing;—eddying

hy

Leaps the swollen torrent; o'er the cataract raves With hrutal force, and headlong flings its hillowy waves.

The night-hreeze sails athwart the sky—

the thunder Has waked him from his sleep—the spirit

hears The Demon's call, and rudely rends

asunder The honds of rest: upon the cloud he rears His deathless might, and wrathfully careers Round the hlack rocks,—dashes in vengeance down Their craggy summits,—damps the toil of

years With one rude whirlwind—and, more

ruthless grown, Heaves up the ocean-waves his giant-strength

to crown.

And now he sinks in softuess, and anon
Rolls on the ear with desolating peal;—
Again the voice is silent.—Is it gone,
The darksome horrors of the night to seal?
Forth peeps the moon; her watery heams

reveal The death that has heen husy here;—again The clouds sail round, as anxious to conceal The sight of desolation, hut in vain— She walks in heanty forth, with all her starry train.

DARTMOOR.

CArrINGtoN.

Dartmoor rears In the dim distance his cloud-cover' d head, With granite-girdle sweeping nearly round The varied map, until he plants his foot Suhlimely in the loud Atlantic wave.

But who that climhs the hrow suhlime, and thence Surveys the dread immensity of sea,

Wild-heaving often here, and seldom lull'd
To deep tranquillity, e'en hy the hush
Of Summer, feels not pleasure, wonder, awe
Alternate, as in hreeze, or gale, or storm,
He gazes on its hosom! On the waste
Of waters, rolling from the hirth of Time,
The great and fathomless Ocean, swathing

round,
As with a girdle, this stupendous Earth,
The eye would dwell for ever! Every shore

The wave of ocean visits. On it roams
Through the hright hurning zone where ar-
dent gales
Cool their scorch'd pinions in it. Indian

airs
From howers of hliss, waft o'er its smiling

. face
Perfumes of Paradise, and round the poles,
Startling the eternal solitudes of enow,
The restless wanderer howls!

wINDS.

TO THE WINDS.

Hail, gentle Winds! I love your murmuring sound;

The willows charm me, wavering to and fro;
And oft I stretch me on the daisied ground,

To see you crimp the wrinkled flood helow:
Delighted more as hrisker gusts succeed

And give the landscape round a sweeter grace,
Sweeping in shaded waves th* ripening mead,

Puffing their rifled fragrance in my face.
Painters of Nature! ye are douhly dear

Her children dearly love your whispering charms:
Ali, ye have murmur'd sweet to many an ear

That now lies dormant in Death's icy arms,
Aud at this moment many a weed ye wave,
That hides the hard in the forgotten grave.

Ye viewless Minstrels of the sky!
I marvel not in times gone hy

That ye were deified:
For, even in this later day,
To me oft has your power, or play,

Unearthly thoughts supplied.

Awful your power! when hy your might,
You heave the wild waves, crested white,

Like mountains in your wrath I
Ploughing hetween them valleys deep,
Which, to the seaman rous'd from sleep,

Yawn Hk« Death's op'ning path I

Graceful your play! when, round the

hower
Where Beauty culls Spring's loveliest flower,

To wreathe her dark locks there,
Your gentlest whispers lightly hreathe
The leaves hetween, flit round that wreath,

And stir her silken hair.

Still, thoughts like these are hut of earth,
And you can give far loftier hirth:—

Ye come !—we know not whence!
Ye go!—can mortals trace your flight?
All imperceptihle to sight;

Though audihle to sense.

The Sun,—his rise and set we know;
The Sea,—we mark its ehh and flow;

The Moon,—her wax and wane;
The Stars,—Man knows their courses well,
The Comet's vagrant paths can tell;—

Bat you his search disdain.

Ye restless, homeless, shapeless things!
Who mock all our imaginings,
Like Spirits in a dream;

What epithet can words supply into the Bard who takes such high Uumanageahle theme?

But one :—to me, when Fancy stirs

My thoughts, ye seem Heav'n's Messengers-.

Who leave no path untrod;
And when, as now, at midnight's hooe,
I hear your voice in all its power,

It seems the Voice of God.

CLOUDS,

THE CLOUDS.

s. c. hAll.

When the first day-heam hless'd the sky,
I marked the varied clouds on high,—
The clouds through which the sunlight hroke,
As if it came from heaven, and woke
Their sleepy shadows into smiles,
And wooed them with a thousand wiles :—
Those at a distance yet, were cold

And dull and naked, after night;
But on, toward the east they roll'd

And clad them in a rohe of light. Others, as if they loved to dwell

In darkness, moved hat slowly on, And when on them its hrightuess fell,

But little of their gloom had gone: One, gloomier still, its course delays,

As though too heavy for the sky,

Then hreaks and passes gaily hy :— While some had gathered round the rays That gave them hues and forms so fair,

As loth to leave that glorious place,

To lose their heanty and to trace
Their pathway through the murky air.
I marked when day was at its height.

Others of many a varied dye,
More fair of form, more purely hright

Than those that deck'd the morning sky,

And gaz'd, till over all on high The sun held uncontrolled sway And chased from heaven all gloom away, While the few clouds that o'er it past, No heam ohscur'd, no shadow cast.

But when the day was almost done,
The clouds were heantiful indeed,
When from his daily duty freed,
Still in his glorious strength, the sun
Shone forth upon the twilight skies,
And graced them with his myriad dyes,
I saw the clouds that onward drew
From out the deep and distant hlue,
Become all heantiful and hright,
As if to shew the coming night
How great the radiance of the power,
E'en of the sun's departing hour:
They took all shapes, as Fancy wrought
Her weh, and mingled thought with thought:
Some like familiar forms—the themes
Of earthly loves that fall to dreams—
Some were of rainhow shape and hues;
Some glisten'd like our earth with dews;
Some were like forests seen afar;
Some like the restless wandering star;
While some appear'd like coral caves
Half hidden hy the ocean waves,

All cover'd with their suow-white spray;
Others were there, which seem'd to he
Fair islands in a dark hlue sea,
Which human eyes at eve hehold;
Bat only then—unseen hy day
Their shores and mountains all of gold.

They vanish'd, as the night came on—
Those various hues and forms were gone :—
But in their stead, Reflection woke
To teach her lesson—thus she spoke :—

*r Those very clouds, so hright, so gay,

So fair—are vapours which the earth Flung, as diseased parts away,—

Foul mists, which owe their second hirth To htm who keeps his throne on high, To hless the earth and gild the sky. Ye.s! 'tis the sun whose influence hrings A change to these degraded tiiings— That gives them lovely forms—and then

Deprives them of their haneful powers, And sends to mother Earth again

In gentle dews and cheering showers, What was her hurthen and her hane.

Man feels a change as great—when man

Feels that immortal spark within— Whose might no human tongue can tell, Which shines to lighten and dispel The darkness and the weight of sin ;— When He, who form'd Creation's whole, To school and guide the human soul, Bids o'er the intellectual skies The Sun of Righteousness arise, And things of heaven and earth assume Their proper shape of light or gloom."

Now let the contemplative mind Fill up the hlank I leave hehind; And see through all Creation's plan Some useful lesson taught to man; Compare the changes wrought within,

And those without,—hy nature wrought— Compare the man who lives in sin,

And him, hy Jesus led and taught. See how the Christian's shining light Makes all that once was darkness, hright; And see how, like the clouds on high,

His every feeling, every thought, Adorn and hless the mental sky,

And then his glories never die 1

TO THE CLOUDS.

Clare.

O Painted Clouds! sweet heauties of the sky, How have. I viewed your motion and your rest, When like fleet hunters ye have left mine eye, In your thin gauee of woolly-fleecing drest:

Or in your threaten'd thunder's grave, hlack vest, Like hlack, deep waters slowly moving hy,

Awfully striking the spectator's hreast With your Creator's dread suhlimity,

As admiration mutely views your storms; And I do love to see you idly lie,

Painted hy heav'n as various as your forms, Pausing upon the eastern mountain high, As morn awakes with spring's wood-harmony; And sweeter still, when in your slumher's sooth You hang the western arch o'er day's proud eye: Still as the even-pool, nncarv'd and smooth, My gazing soul has look'd most placidly; And higher still devoutly wish'd to strain, To wipe your shrouds and sky's hlue hlinders hy, With all the warmness of a moon-struck hrain,— To catch a glimpse of Him who hids you reign, And view the dwelling of All Maiesty.

THE CLOUD.

A Cloud lay cradled near the setting sun,

A gleam of crimson tinged its hraided snow, Long had I watch'd the glory moving on,

O'er the still radiance of the lake helow; Tranquil its spirit seem'd, and floated slow,

E'en in its very motion there was rest; While ev'ry hreath of eve that chanced to hlow,

Wafted the trav'Iler to the heauteous west. Emhlem, methought, of the departed soul

To whose white rohe the gleam of hliss is giv'n, And hy the hreath of mercy made to roll

Right onward to the gbldeu gates of heav'n, Where to the eye of faith it peaceful lies, And tells to man his glorious destinies.

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