And his mind's brightest vision but displays And when you dream of woman, and her love; Borne, like Loretto's chapel, through the air To the green land I sing, then wake; you'll find them there The Rising Moon.-W. O. B. PEABODY. THE moon is up! How calm and slow She wheels above the hill! The weary winds forget to blow, The way-worn travellers, with delight, It glistens where the hurrying stream It falls upon the forest shade, So once, on Judah's evening hills, And still that light upon the world The waning moon, in time, shall fail But God hath kindled this bright light America to Great Britain."-WASHINGTON ALLSTON ALL hail thou noble land, Our fathers' native soil! O'er the vast Atlantic wave to our shore. Canst reach to where the light The world o'er! The Genius of our clime, From his pine-embattled steep, While the Tritons of the deep With their conchs the kindred league shall proclaim. O'er the main our naval line, Though ages long have passed Since our fathers left their home, Their pilot in the blast, O'er untravelled seas to roam, Yet lives the blood of England in our veins! That blood of honest fame, Which no tyranny can tame By its chains? While the language, free and bold, In which our Milton told How the vault of heaven rung, *This poem was written in the year 1810. It was first printed, we be lieve, in Coleridge's Sybilline Leaves. Coleridge inserted it among his own poems with the following note: "This poem, written by an American gentleman, a valued and dear friend, I communicate to the reader for its moral, no less than its poetic spirit." After such a commendation from the greatest poet, and perhaps the greatost man living, any additional one would be superfluous.-ED. When Satan, blasted, fell with his host; Round our coast; While the manners, while the arts, Between let Ocean roll, Our joint communion breaking with the Sun: The voice of blood shall reach, Th Night-flowering Cereus.t-UNITARIAN MISCELLANY. Now departs day's gairish light- Rise upon the brow of night! Haste, thy transient lustre shed! Night has dropped her dusky veil- See to life her beauties start; Hail! thou glorious, matchless flower! In the solemn, fleeting hour. *This alludes merely to the moral union of the two countries. The autho would not have it supposed that the tribute of respect, offered in these stanzas to the land of his ancestors, would be paid by him, if a he expense of the independence of that which gave him birth. The night-flowering Cereus, or Cactus grandiflorus, is one of our splendid hot-house plants, and is a native of Jamaica and some other of the West India Islands. Its stem is creeping, and thickly set with spines. The flower is white, and very large, sometimes nearly a foot in diameter. The most remarkable circumstance with regard to the flower, is the short time which it takes to expand, and the rapidity with which it decays. It begins to open late in the evening, flourishes for an hour or two, then begins to droop, and before morning is completely dead. Ere we have our homage paid, Thou wilt bow thine head and die ; Sorrow's rugged stem, like thine, Religion, too, that heavenly flower, Then thy beauties are surpassed, God is Good.-ANONYMOUS. GOD is good! Each perfumed flower, The insect, fluttering for an hour,- I hear it in the rushing wind; Each little rill, that, many a year, And every bird, in accents clear, Joins in the song that God is good. The restless main, with haughty roar, Countless hosts of burning stars The moon, that walks in brightness, says, Manifestation of Christ to the Gentiles.-ANONYMOUS WHEN, on the midnight of the East, The shepherd, leaning o'er his flock, The Arabian sage, to hail our King, If heathen sages, from afar, Followed, when darkness round them sprem And worshipped where its radiance led, Shall we, for whom that star was hung Shall we, for whom the Savior bled, |