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Lifts the white throng of sails, that bear or bring
The commerce of the world-with tawny limb,
And belt and beads in sunlight glistening,

The savage urged his skiff like wild bird on the wing.

Then, all his youthful paradise around,

And all the broad and boundless mainland, lay
Cooled by the interminable wood, that frowned
O'er mound and vale, where never summer ray
Glanced, till the strong tornado broke his way
Through the gray giants of the sylvan wild;
Yet many a sheltered glade, with blossoms gay,
Beneath the showery sky and sunshine mild,
Within the shaggy arms of that dark forest smiled.

There stood the Indian hamlet, there the lake Spread its blue sheet, that flashed with many an oar, Where the brown otter plunged him from the brake, And the deer drank-as the light gale flew o'er, The twinkling maize-field rustled on the shore; And while that spot, so wild, and lone, and fair, A look of glad and innocent beauty wore, And peace was on the earth and in the air, The warrior lit the pile, and bound his captive there:

Not unavenged-the foeman, from the wood, Beheld the deed, and, when the midnight shade Was stillest, gorged his battle-axe with blood; All died-the wailing babe-the shrieking maid— And in the flood cf fire that scathed the glade, The roofs went down ; but deep the silence grew When on the dewy woods the day-beam played; No more the cabin smokes rose wreathed and blue, And ever by their lake lay moored the light canoe.

Look now abroad-another race has filled

These populous borders-wide the wood recedes, And towns shoot up, and fertile realms are tilled; The land is full of harvests and green meads; Streams numberless, that many a fountain feeds, Shine, disembowered, and give to sun and breeze Their virgin waters; the full region leads

New colonies forth, that toward the western seas Spread, like a rapid flame among the autumnal trees.

Here the free spirit of mankind, at length,
Throws its last fetters off; and who shall place
A limit to the giant's unchained strength,
Or curb his swiftness in the forward race.
Far, like the comet's way through infinite space,
Stretches the long untravelled path of light
Into the depths of ages: we may trace,
Afar, the brightening glory of its flight,
Till the receding rays are lost to human sight.

To a Waterfowl.-BRYANT.

WHITHER, 'midst falling dew,

While glow the heavens with the last steps of day,
Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue
Thy solitary way?

Vainly the fowler's eye

Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong,
As, darkly painted on the crimson sky,
Thy figure floats along.

Seek'st thou the plashy brink

Of weedy lake, or marge of river wide,
Or where the rocking billows rise and sink
On the chafed ocean side?

There is a Power, whose care

Teaches thy way along that pathless coast,-
The desert and illimitable air,-

Lone wandering, but not lost.

All day thy wings have fanned,

At that far height, the cold, thin atmosphere;
Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land,
Though the dark night is near.

And soon that toil shall end;

Soon shalt thou find a summer home, and rest
And scream among thy fellows; reeds shall bend
Soon o'er thy sheltered nest.

Thou'rt gone; the abyss of heaven

Hath swallowed up thy form; yet on my heart
Deeply hath sunk the lesson thou hast given,
And shall not soon depart.

He, who, from zone to zone,

Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight,
In the long way that I must tread alone,
Will lead my steps aright.

The Constancy of Nature contrasted with the Changes in Human Life.-DANA.

How like eternity doth nature seem
To life of man-that short and fitful dream!
I look around me ;-no where can I trace
Lines of decay that mark our human race.

These are the murmuring waters, these the flowers
I mused o'er in my earlier, better hours.

Like sounds and scents of yesterday they come.
Long years have past since this was last my home!
And I am weak, and toil-worn is my frame;
But all this vale shuts in is still the same:

'Tis I alone am changed; they know me not:
I feel a stranger-or as one forgot.

The breeze that cooled my warm and youthful brow,
Breathes the same freshness on its wrinkles now.
The leaves that flung around me sun and shade,
While gazing idly on them, as they played,
Are holding yet their frolic in the air;
The motion, joy, and beauty still are there-
But not for me!-I look upon the ground:
Myriads of happy faces throng me round,
Familiar to my eye; yet heart and mind
In vain would now the old communion find.
Ye were as living, conscious beings, then,

With whom I talked-but I have talked with men!
With uncheered sorrow, with cold hearts I've met;
Seen honest minds by hardened craft beset;

Seen hope cast down, turn deathly pale its glow;
Seen virtue rare, but more of virtue's show.

And fare thee well, my own green, quiet Vale.-DANA.

THE sun was nigh its set, when we were come Once more where stood the good man's lowly home. We sat beside the door; a gorgeous sight Above our heads-the elm in golden light. Thoughtful and silent for awhile-he then Talked of my coming." Thou❜lt not go again From thine own vale; and we will make thy home Pleasant; and it shall glad thee to have come." Then of my garden and my house he spoke, And well ranged orchard on the sunny slope; And grew more bright and happy in his talk Of social winter eve, and summer walk. And, while I listened, to my sadder soul A sunnier, gentler sense in silence stole; Nor had I heart to spoil the little plan Which cheered the spirit of the kind old man.

At length I spake

"No! here I must not stay I'll rest to-night-to-morrow go my way."

He did not urge me. Looking in my face, As he each feeling of the heart could trace, He prest my hand, and prayed I might be blest,Where'er I went, that Heaven would give me rest.

The silent night has past into the prime Of day-to thoughtful souls a solemn time. For man has wakened from his nightly death, And shut up sense to morning's life and breath. He sees go out in heaven the stars that kept Their glorious watch while he, unconscious, slept,--Feels God was round him while he knew it notIs awed-then meets the world-and God's forgot. So may I not forget thee, holy Power!

Be to me ever as at this cal hour.

The tree tops now are glittering in the sun: Away! 'Tis time my journey was begun.

Why should I stay, when all I loved are fled, Strange to the living, knowing but the dead;

A homeless wanderer through my early home;
Gone childhood's joy, and not a joy to come?
To pass each cottage, and to have it tell,
Here did thy mother, here a playmate dwell;
To think upon that lost one's girlish bloom,
And see that sickly smile, and mark her doom
It haunts me now-her dim and wildered brain.
I would not look upon that eye again!

Let me go, rather, where I shall not find
Aught that my former self will bring to mind.
These old, familiar things, where'er I tread,
Are round me like the mansions of the dead.
No! wide and foreign lands shall be my range,
That suits the lonely soul, where all is strange.

Then for the dashing sea, the broad full sail!
And fare thee well, my own green, quiet vale.

SONNET.

The Free Mind.

WILLIAM LLOYD GARRISON.*

HIGH walls and huge the body may confine,
And iron grates obstruct the prisoner's gaze,
And massive bolts may baffle his design,

And vigilant keepers watch his devious ways:

*This sonnet, written during Mr. Garrison's despotic imprisonment, possesses a nobleness and an energy in the thought, a corresponding ease and originality in the expression, and an antique richness in its whole structure, which make it worthy of the happiest Olden Times' of the English Muse. With all the heart, we bid its author God speed in his efforts in the cause of freedom. But it needs patience and prudence, as well as stern moral courage. The possible result of the Colonization Society, and the success which may attend the efforts for the entire abolition of slavery in this coun try, constitute the great problem, on the solution of which our prosperity, and perhaps even our existence as a nation, depends. Every man who can speak, every editor who can influence the public mind, should certainly be doing all in his power to hasten forward the period of complete emancipation.

"Speed it, O Father! Let thy kingdom come !"

ED.

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