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And what wert thou, and earth, and stars and sea,
'Tis night; on her mysterious throne
There, in the waveless flood of thought,
But now to starry dome adieu,
Veil not, O Cynthia, thy fair face!
Shall I, to seize that lovely scene,
From Rogers's Italy.
The city that so long Reigned absolute, the mistress of the world; The mighty vision that the prophets saw, And trembled ; that from nothing, from the least, The lowliest village. (What but here and there A red-roofed cabin by a river side ?) Grew into everything; and, year by year, Patiently, fearlessly, working her way O'er brook and field, o'er continent and sea, Not like the merchant with his merchandise, Or traveller with staff and scrip exploring, But hand to hand and foot to foot, thro’ hosts, Thro' nations numberless in battle-array, Each behind each, each, when the other fell, Up and in arms, at length subdued them all.
The city, where the Gauls, Entering at sunrise through her open gates, And, thro' ber streets silent and desolate, Marching to slay, thought they saw gods, not men; The city that by temperance, fortitude, And love of glory, tower'd above the clouds, Then fell-but, falling, kept the highest seat, And in her loneliness, her pomp of woe, Where now she dwells, withdrawn into the wild, Still o'er the mind maintains, from age to age, Her empire undiminish'd. There, as though Grandeur attracted grandeur, are beheld All things that strike, ennoble from the depths Of Egypt, from the classic fields of Greece, Her groves, her temples—all things that inspire Wonder, delight! Who would not say the forms Most perfect, most divine, had by consent, Flock'd thither to abide eternally, Within those silent chambers where they dwell, In bappy intercourse ?
TO THE OCEAN.
Oh! what precious things there be,
Soar from out thy shrinking flood,
From Milton's Paradise Lost.
Eden, where delicious Paradise, Now nearer, crowns with her enclosure green, As with a rural mound the champaign head Of a steep wilderness, whose hairy sides With thicket overgrown, grotesque and wild, Access denied; and overhead up grew Insuperable height of loftiest shade, Cedar, and pine, and fir, and branching palm, A sylvan scene, and as the ranks ascend Shade above shade, a woody theatre Of stateliest view. Yet higher than their tops The verdurous wall of Paradise upsprung: Which to our general sire gave prospect large Into his nether empire neighbouring round. And higher than that wall a circling row Of goodliest trees loaden with fairest fruit, Blossoms and fruits at once a golden hue Appear'd, with gay enamelled colours mixt: On which the sun more glad impress'd his beams That in fair evening cloud, or humid bow, When God hath shower'd the earth; so lovely seem'd That landscape. And of pure now purer air
Meets his approach, and to the heart inspires
MY SISTER'S SLEEP. From a periodical called The Germ, which lived only a few weeks, but counted among its contributors an extraordinary amount of real genius. This beautiful poem appears anonymously.
She fell asleep on Christmas Eve.
Upon her eyes most patient calms
The lids were shut; her uplaid arms
Our mother who had lean'd all day
Then raised herself for the first time,
Her little work-table was spread
With work to finish. For the glare
Made by her candle, she had care
Without, there was a good moon up,
Which left its shadows far within ;
The depth of light that it was in
Through the small room, with subtle sound
Of fame, by vents the fireshine drove
And redden'd. In its dim alcove