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be clothed in the invincible armour, conferred by a neighbouring sovereignity, they never cease their merciless pursuit, until they have fed upon his vitals. When there is no other prey, they fall upon each other. Then their combat grows terrific--their fury, unrelenting!' I took another view, and, as flashes of lightning broke through the darkness that hung upon the bottom of the vale, I discovered deep pits, unobserved before, and was told by my guide that these were the pits of misery, despair, and perdition, into which this evil generation were all ultimately ingulfed. I drew a heavy sigh, as my heart sunk within me. My guide then led me to a greater elevation, and, as she bade me look to the right, I beheld a magnificent prospect. The richest verdure covered the landscape; trees of every variety, loaded with blossoms and glowing fruit, embellished it; fountains of crystal water and pellucid streams refreshed and adorned the scene. The balmy air, filled with dewy odours, was fanned by gentle zephyrs; and a perpetual sunshine hung upon the lovely spot. In the midst of this enchantment there was a white transparent palace, based, as it seemed, on a vast adamantine rock, which tornadoes and the convulsions of nature could not shake. Its top was lost in the heavens. Within this splendid palace I observed a majectic figure, enthroned, like a goddess, in a circle of refulgent light. Grace, dignity, and ease were in all her actions; her eye glowed with hallowed fire, and her whole countenance beamed with benevolence and justice. She seemed feasting on ambrosia, distilled by Hope in the cup of Immortality. A host of bright and buoyant nymphs danced around her:

* Hearts burning with a high empyreal flame.'

I felt delighted with the sight before me, and asked

my guide what happy place this was. That,' said she,

is the Garden of Knowledge, and the loveliest dwelling within it, which you see yonder, is the Temple of Virtue, in which the Goddess of Wisdom presides. And the happy race of beings, that inhabit there, are known by the name of Justice, Mercy,Honesty, Charity, Sympathy, Love, and many other tribes. Among these the most perfect harmony and affection subsists, and

A chain
Of kindred taste hath fastened mind to mind.'

No warfare, no thoughts of injury and injustice are indulged, all passions are purified; but the most remarkable characteristic of this godlike race is that every being has a pure light burning within him, which no external violence or accident can extinguish; and while it burns, by a law of his nature, the possessor cannot be positively unhappy. This is a most beautiful economy in Providence, that, although the tie of Sympathy with its fellow beings, which gives birth to many joyous raptures, should be lost or severed, the seal of bliss is, nevertheless, stamped upon his soul by the presiding Deity of the place. If, perchance, there should be any collision in their will and desires, to which the mortal part of their nature renders them subject, and light up the flame of discord, still it is cælestibus iræ, the anger of heavenly minds, and honour, dignity and justice never lose their dominion over his intellect: animum ex suâ mente et divinitate genuit Deus.' -Here my guide paused; and, as I felt grateful obligations for the revelation she had made, I desired to know to whom I owed this happiness. She told me, Truth: that she frequently visited this favourite garden, where she was ever held in grateful remembrance, but seldom

the dismal vale she had shown me, as there she was not only despised, but outraged and insulted. Suddenly a loud cry and the trampling of horses awoke me; and I found myself in the grove, where I had fallen asleep, and a large pack of hounds, and many horsemen were diverting themselves in a fox chase.”

THE DEATH OF LAFAYETTE.

BY T. A. WORRALL.

COME forth, pavilioned cloud,
And let night's mantle o'er the earth be spread
The
sage

is in his shroud !
The widow's and the orphan's tears be shed
Weep, children of the free! where'er ye dwell,
For Freedom's son has bid the world farewell !

Toll now the muffled bell,
Its death-cry well may speak a nation's wo-

Hearts echo to the knell;
It is the festival of grief—we go
With measured steps—while rolls the funeral drum,
As if a great calamity had come.

Fond memory turns to him
Who was a nation's foreign, cherished son-

Whose fame time cannot dim;
While age on age shall keep what he hath won.
Honour will rise in many a hymn of praise,
And myriads sing the deeds of other days.

Ours is no clamorous cry,
Or vulgar wo, the mockery of grief !

The brave and good must die.
He sunk to earth, as falls the Autumn's leaf;
But he had sown the seed of other years
For a rich harvest-Europe, dry thy tears !

A knell comes o'er the deepThe nations' lamentation for the dead,

Whose clay is wrapp'd in sleep ! We shall no more behold the form which bled With sires, who fell upon their country's heightsThe ransom, to redeem a nation's rights.

Weep, freemen, in

your

sadness! When despots strewed your mother earth with dead,

His young heart beat with gladness,
To seek for honour on the warrior's bed:
A name, or else a grave! He left the crowd
At Freedom's call, for glory or a shroud !

France ! thou hast cause for wo
Thy brave will weep-thy good cannot forget;

His like ye ne'er shall know.
The chief among thy chief-thy sun hath set;
But there is resurrectioneven his bones
Shall shake all Europe's kings and mouldering thrones !

Weep when thy thought returns
To the dark era of thy bloody hour;

And if thy bosom burns
That cannibals did riot in thy power,
Think of thy chief, betrayed by heartless men-
Weep for thy chief, in Olmutz' midnight den!

Smile, that his soul was true,
Unquailing, and unquenched before his foes-

The foes of Freedom, too!
'Twas well--that hour a radiance round him throws,
No sceptered monarch ever yet obtained-
A martyr's wreath! and nobly was it gained.

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