ease was upon her vitals before Cæsar had crossed the Rubicon; and Brutus did not restore her health by the deep probings of the senate chamber. The Goths, and Vandals, and Huns, the swarms of the north, completed only what was already begun at home. Romans betrayed Rome. The legions were bought and sold; but the people offered the tribute money.

DEATH.-MRS. HEMANS.

Leaves have their time to fall,

And flowers to wither at the north-wind's breath,
And stars to set-but all,

Thou hast all seasons for thine own, oh! Death.

Day is for mortal care,

Eve for glad meetings round the joyous hearth,

Night for the dreams of sleep, the voice of prayerBut all for thee, thou mightiest of the earth.

The banquet hath its hour,

Its feverish hour of mirth, and song, and wine;

There comes a day for grief's o'erwhelming power, A time for softer tears-but all are thine.

Youth and the opening rose

May look like things too glorious for decay,

And smile at thee-but thou art not of those That wait the ripened bloom to seize their prey.

Leaves have their time to fall,

And flowers to wither at the north-wind's breath,
And stars to set-but all,

Thou hast all seasons for thine own, oh! Death.

We know when moons shall wane,

When summer-birds from far shall cross the sea,

When autumn's hue shall tinge the golden grain

But who shall teach us when to look for thee?

Is it when Spring's first gale

Comes forth to whisper where the violets lie;
Is it when roses in our paths grow pale ?-
They have one season-all are ours to die!

Thou art where billows foam,

Thou art where music melts upon the air;

Thou art around us in our peaceful home, And the world calls us forth-and thou art there.

Thou art where friend meets friend,

Beneath the shadow of the elm to rest

Thou art where foe meets foe, and trumpets rend The skies, and swords beat down the princely crest.

Leaves have their time to fall,

And flowers to wither at the north-wind's breath,
And stars to set-but all,

Thou hast all seasons for thine own, oh! Death.

PSALM CXIV.—David,

When Israel went up out of Egypt, the house of Jacob from a people of strange language, Judah was his sanctuary, and Israel his dominion. The sea saw it and fled; Jordan was driven back. The mountains skipped like rams, and the little hills like lambs. What ailed thee, O thou sea, that thou fleddest? thou Jordan, that thou wast driven back? Ye mountains, that ye skipped like rams, and ye little hills, like lambs? Tremble, thou earth, at the presence of the Lord, at the presence of the God of Jacob; which turned the rock into a standing water, the flint into a fountain of waters.

THE WINDS.-MISS GOULD,

We come! we come! and ye feel our might,
As we're hastening on in our boundless flight,
And over the mountains and over the deep,
Our broad, invisible pinions sweep
Like the spirit of liberty, wild and free!
And ye look on our works, and own 'tis we;
Ye call us the winds; but can ye tell
Whither we go, or where we dwell?
Ye mark, as we vary our forms of power,
And fell the forest, or fan the flower;

When the harebell moves, and the rush is bent,
When the tower's o'erthrown, and the oak is rent;
As we waft the bark o'er the slumbering wave,
Or hurry its crew to a watery grave;
And ye say it is we; but can ye trace
The wandering winds to their secret place?
And, whether our breath be loud and high,
Or come in a soft and balmy sigh-
Our threatnings fill the soul with fear,
Or our gentle whisperings woo the ear
With music aerial-still 't is we.

see?

And ye list, and ye look; but what do ye
Can ye hush one sound of our voice to peace,
Or waken one note, when our numbers cease?
Our dwelling is in the Almighty's hand;
We come and we go at his command.
Though joy or sorrow may mark our track,
His will is our guide, and we look not back;
And if, in our wrath, ye would turn us away,
Or win us in gentlest airs to play,
Then lift up your hearts to him who binds
Or frees, as he will, the obedient winds'

ATHEISM.-COLERIDGE.

Bold with joy,

Forth from his lonely hiding-place,

(Portentous sight!) the owlet Atheism,

Sailing on obscene wings athwart the noon,

Drops his blue-fringed lids, and holds them close,
And hooting at the glorious sun in heaven,
Cries out," Where is it."

POETRY.-WOLFE.

From the beginning she was one of the ministering spirits that stand around the throne of God, to issue forth at his word, and do his errands upon earth, Sometimes she has been the herald of an offending nation's downfall; and often has she been sent commissioned to transgressing man, with prophecy and warning upon her lips;-but (at other times) she has been entrusted

with "glad tidings of great joy ;" and poetry was the anticipating apostle, the prophetic evangelist, whose "feet were beautiful upon the mountains-that published salvation-that said unto Zion, thy God reigneth!"-Yet has she been accused of co-operating with luxury and fostering the seeds of private indolence and public supineness; she has been stigmatised as the origin of moral deformity, because she often condescends to attend upon guilty man; and where virtue has failed to withdraw him from his vices, has softened their effects, and prevented him from falling into brutality. The spoils of Persia would have relaxed the energies of Greece although poetry had never descended from her throne on high to bless the visions of Grecian enthusiasm; and happy, polished, enchanting Greece, the idol of our fondest imagination, would have sunk into oblivion-into stupid luxury and mindless indolence. Thus, also, -when the genius of Roman independence was abandoning the world to Octavius, and retiring from his empire into everlasting exile, the muse collected all her energies to bestow departing consolation; she wrought a moral miracle to arrest the headlong degeneracy of Rome, and raised up Augustus to counteract the crimes that Octavius had committed.

MIRTH.-MILTON,

Haste thee, nymph, and bring with thee

Jest, and youthful jollity,

Quips, and cranks, and wanton wiles,

Nods, and becks, and wreathed smiles
Such as hang on Hebe's cheek,
And love to live in dimple sleek;
Sport, that wrinkled care derides,
And Laughter holding both his sides :
Come, and trip it, as you go,
On the light fantastic toe;

And in thy right hand lead with thee,
The mountain nymph, sweet liberty;
And, if I give thee honor due,
Mirth admit me of thy crew,
To live with her, and live with thee,
In unreproved pleasures free;
To hear the lark begin his flight,
And singing startle the dull night

From his watch-tower in the skies,
Till the dappled dawn doth rise;
Then to come, in spite of sorrow,
And at my window bid good morrow,
Through the sweet brier, or the vine,
Or the twisted eglantine:

While the cock, with lively din,
Scatters the rear of darkness thin.

ENGLAND IN 1814.-ALISON.

Dear, even to the savage heart, is the land of his fathers; dear to the citizen of civilized ages are the institutions of national wisdom, and the monuments of national glory; but upon no human heart did the claims of his country ever fall so deep and so irresistible, as they now do upon the citizens of this country. Other nations have preceeded her in the road of arts and arms; -other nations have wreathed around their brows the laurels of science, and the palms of victory: But the high destiny to which she has of late been called, no other nation has ever shared with her. She has been called to guard the fortunes of the human race; to preserve, amid her waves, the sacred flame that was to relume the world; and, like the cherubim that watched the gates of paradise, to turn every way her flaming sword against the foes of God and man. These were her duties, and nobly has she fulfilled them. Through every dark, and every disastrous year;-while nation after nation sunk around her; while monarchs bent their imperial heads beneath the yoke, and the pulse of moral nature seemed to stand still in ignominious terror; she alone hath stood insensible to fear, and incapable of submission. It is her hand, that amid the darkness of the storm hath still steadfastly pointed the road to liberty; it is her treasures which have clothed every trembling people with armor for the combat; it is her sons, her gallant sons, who have rushed into the van of battle, and first broke the spell that paralized the world; and in these recent days, it is her commanding voice that has awakened the slumbering nations of mankind, and sent them on their glorious march, conquering and to conquer. And now, in the hour of her triumph,-now, when all that is brave or generous in the human race, bow before her,— here is she to be found? And what is the attitude in which