Call down such peace to soothe thy breast, As thou wouldst bear to all that mourn. TO THE SAME; ON THE DEATH OF HER MOTHER. SAY not 'tis fruitless, nature's holy tear, More blest than dew on Hermon's brow that falls, But grief will claim her hour,-and He whose eye Searches each wound, and bids His Spirit bring And who but He shall soothe, when one dread stroke Ties, that were fibres of the soul, hath broke? By fire and storm, heaven tries the Christian's worth, Yet not the less, o'er all the heart hath lost, Shall Faith rejoice, when Nature grieves the most. Then comes her triumph! through the shadowy gloom, Her star in glory rises from the tomb, Mounts to the day-spring, leaves the cloud below, And gilds the tears that cease not yet to flow ! Yes, all is o'er! fear, doubt, suspense are fledLet brighter thoughts be with the virtuous dead! The final ordeal of the soul is past, And the pale brow is seal'd to heaven at last!1 1 Till we have sealed the servants of God in their foreheads."-Revelation. Thy happy feet have trod The starry spangled road, Celestial flocks by field and fountain guiding; And from their erring track Thou charm'st thy shepherds back, With the soft music of thy gentle chiding. Oh! who shall Death withstandDeath, whose impartial hand Levels the lowest plant and loftiest pine! When shall our ears again Drink in so sweet a strain, Our eyes behold so fair a form as thine! APPEARANCE OF THE SPIRIT OF THE CAPE TO VASCO DE GAMA. (TRANSLATED FROM THE FIFTH BOOK OF THE LUSIAD OF CAMOENS.) PROPITIOUS winds our daring bark impell'd Thrill'd with amaze, I cried, "Supernal Power! Of rude proportions and gigantic size, "O daring band!" he cried, "far, far more bold Where, till this moment, from the birth of time, "Know that o'er every bark, whose fearless helm Invades, like yours, this wide mysterious realm, Unmeasured ills my arm in wrath shall pour, And guard with storms my own terrific shore! And on the fleet, which first presumes to brave The dangers throned on this tempestuous wave, Shall vengeance burst, ere yet a warning fear, Have time to prophesy destruction near! "Yes, desperate band! if right my hopes divine, Revenge, fierce, full, unequall'd, shall be mine! Urge your bold prow, pursue your venturous wayPain, Havoc, Ruin, wait their destined prey! And your proud vessels, year by year, shall find (If no false dreams delude my prescient mind) My wrath so dread in many a fatal storm, Death shall be deem'd misfortune's mildest form. "Lo! where my victim comes !-of noble birth, Of cultured genius, and exalted worth, With her,1 his best beloved, in all her charms, Pride of his heart, and treasure of his arms! From foaming waves, from raging winds they fly, Spared for revenge, reserved for agony ! Oh! dark the fate that calls them from their home, On this rude shore, my savage reign, to roam, And sternly saves them from a billowy tomb, For woes more exquisite, more dreadful doom! -Yes! he shall see the offspring, loved in vain, Pierced with keen famine, die in lingering pain; Shall see fierce Caffres every garment tear, From her, the soft, the idolised, the fair; Shall see those limbs, of nature's finest mould, Bare to the sultry sun, or midnight cold, 1 Don Emmanuel de Sonsa, and his wife, Leonora de Sà. And, in long wanderings o'er a desert land, Those tender feet imprint the scorching sand. "Yet more, yet deeper woe, shall those behold Who live through toils unequall'd and untold! On the wild shore, beneath the burning sky, The hapless pair, exhausted, sink to die! Bedew the rock with tears of pain intense, Of bitterest anguish, thrilling every sense; Till in one last embrace, with mortal throes, Their struggling spirits mount from anguish to repose !" As the dark phantom sternly thus portray'd Our future ills, in Horror's deepest shade,"Who then art thou?" I cried. "Dread being, tell Each sense thus bending in amazement's spell !" -With fearful shriek, far echoing o'er the tide, Writhing his lips and eyes, he thus replied: "Behold the genius of that secret shore Where the wind rages and the billows roarThat stormy Cape, for ages mine alone, To Pompey, Strabo, Pliny, all unknown! Far to the southern pole my throne extends, That hidden rock, which Afric's region ends. Behold that spirit, whose avenging might, Whose fiercest wrath your daring deeds excite." Thus having said, with strange, terrific cries, The giant-spectre vanish'd from our eyes; In sable clouds dissolved-while far around, Dark ocean's heaving realms his parting yells resound! A DIRGE. WEEP for the early lost!— How many flowers were mingled in the crown Thus, with the lovely, to the grave gone down, E'en when life promised most! How many hopes have wither'd! They that bow To heaven's dread will, feel all its mysteries now. Did the young mother's eye Behold her child, and close upon the day, -Then look for clouds to dim the fairest morn! For there is hush'd on earth A voice of gladness-there is veil'd a face, |