A SACRED MELODY.

IF yon bright stars which gem the night
Be each a blissful dwelling sphere,
Where kindred spirits reunite,

Whom death has torn asunder here;
How sweet it were at once to die,

And leave this blighted orb afarMixed soul with soul, to cleave the sky, And soar away from star to star.

But, O! how dark, how drear, how lone

Would seem the brightest world of bliss, If, wandering through each radiant one,

We fail'd to find the loved of this! If there no more the ties should twine,

Which death's cold hand alone can sever, Ah! then these stars in mockery shine,

More hateful, as they shine forever.

It cannot be! each hope and fear

That lights the eye or clouds the brow, Proclaims there is a happier sphere

Than this bleak world that holds us now! There is a voice which sorrow hears,

When heaviest weighs life's galling chain; "Tis heaven that whispers, "Dry thy tears: The pure in heart shall meet again!"

LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP.

THE birds, when winter shades the sky,
Fly o'er the seas away,

Where laughing isles in sunshine lie,
And summer breezes play;

And thus the friends that flutter near

While fortune's sun is warm,

Are startled if a cloud appear,

And fly before the storm.

But when from winter's howling plains
Each other warbler's past,

The little snow-bird still remains,

And chirrups midst the blast.

Love, like that bird, when friendship's throng
With fortune's sun depart,
Still lingers with its cheerful song,
And nestles on the heart.

SONG.

I TRUST the frown thy features wear
Ere long into a smile will turn;

I would not that a face so fair

As thine, beloved, should look so stern. The chain of ice that winter twines, Holds not for aye the sparkling rill, It melts away when summer shines,

And leave the waters sparkling still. Thus let thy cheek resume the smile

That shed such sunny light before; And though I left thee for a while,

I'll swear to leave thee, love, no more.

As he who, doomed o'er waves to roam,
Or wander on a foreign strand,
Will sigh whene'er he thinks of home,
And better love his native land;
So I, though lured a time away,

Like bees by varied sweets, to rove, Return, like bees, by close of day,

And leave them all for thee, my love. Then let thy cheek resume the smile That shed such sunny light before, And though I left thee for a while, I swear to leave thee, love, no more.

EDWARD COATE PINKNEY was born in London, in October, 1802, while his father, the Honourable WILLIAM PINKNEY, was the American Minister at the court of St. James'. Soon after the return of his family to Baltimore, in 1811, he entered St. Mary's College, in that city, and remained there until he was fourteen years old, when he was appointed a midshipman in the navy. tinued in the service nine years, and in that period visited the Mediterranean and several other foreign stations, and acquired much general knowledge and acquaintance with mankind.

He con

'The death of his father, and other circumstances, induced him, in 1824, to resign his place in the navy; and in the same year he was married, and admitted to the Maryland bar. His career as a lawyer was brief and unfortunate. He opened an office in Baltimore, and applied himself earnestly to his profession; but though his legal acquirements and forensic abilities were respectable, his rooms were seldom visited by a client; and after two years had passed, disheartened by neglect, and with a prospect of poverty before him, he suddenly determined to enter the naval service of Mexico, in which a number of our officers had already won distinction and fortune. When, however, he presented himself before Commodore PORTER, then commanding the sea-forces of that country, the situation he solicited was refused, and he was compelled reluctantly to return to the United States.

The

He reappeared in Baltimore, poor and dejected. He turned his attention again to the law, but in his vigorous days he had been unable to support himself by his profession; and now, when he was suffering from disease and a settled melancholy, it was not reasonable to anticipate success. erroneous idea that a man of a poetical mind cannot transact business requiring patience and habits of careful investigation, was undoubtedly one of the principal causes of his failure as a lawyer; for that he was respected, and that his fellow-citizens were willing to confer upon him honours, is evident from the fact that, in 1826, he was appointed one of the professors in the University of Maryland. This office, however, was one of honour only: it yielded no profit.

PINKNEY now became sensible that his constitution was broken, and that he could not long

It has been said that Commodore PORTER refused to give PINKNEY a commission, because he was known to be a warm adherent of an administration to which he was himself opposed; but it is more reasonable to believe, as was alleged at the time, that the navy of Mexico was full, and that the citizens of that republic had begun to regard with jealousy the too frequent admission of foreigners into the service.

survive; but he had no wish to live. His feelings
at this period are described in one of his poems:-
"A sense it was, that I could see
The angel leave my side-
That thenceforth my prosperity
Must be a falling tide;

A strange and ominous belief,
That in spring-time the yellow leaf
Had fallen on my hours;

And that all hope must be most vain,
of finding on my path again

Its former vanish'd flowers."

Near the close of the year 1827, a political gazette, entitled "The Marylander," was established in Baltimore, and, in compliance with the general wish of the proprietors, Mr. PINKNEY undertook to conduct it. He displayed much sagacity and candour, and in a few weeks won a high reputation in his new vocation; but his increasing illness compelled him to leave it, and he died on the eleventh of April, 1828, at the early age of twenty-five years and six months. was a man of genius, and had all the qualities of mind and heart that win regard and usually lead to greatness, except HOPE and ENERGY.

He

A small volume containing "Rodolph," and other poems, was published by PINKNEY in 1825. "Rodolph" is his longest work. It was first published, anonymously, soon after he left the navy, and was probably written while he was in the Mediterranean. It is in two cantos. The first begins,

"The summer's heir on land and sea
Had thrown his parting glance

And winter taken angrily

His waste inheritance.
The winds in stormy revelry
Sported beneath a frowning sky;
The chafing waves, with hollow roar,
Tumbled upon the shaken shore,
And sent their spray in upward showers
To Rodolph's proud ancestral towers,
Whose bastion, from its mural crown,
A regal look cast sternly down."

There is no novelty in the story, and not much can be said for its morality. The hero, in the season described in the above lines, arrives at his own domain, after many years of wandering in foreign lands, during which he had "grown old in heart, and infirm of frame." In his youth he had loved-the wife of another-and his passion had been returned. "At an untimely tide," he had met the husband, and, in encounter, slain him. The wife goes into a convent, and her paramour seeks refuge from remorse in distant countries. In the beginning of the second canto, he is once more in his own castle; but, feeling some dark presentiment, he wanders to a cemetery, where, in the morning, he is found by his vassals, "senseless

Look se
But fairy
And, fly:
The gau
And wat
Or touch
Or fleck'
When th
Lovely a
Bear we

It looks a
The seal
Nature is
The place
The wind:
The air se
Save wher

And solem

Thrice bea

Carry our

There Art,
Her sculptu

And there
To whisper
The speakin
Have but be

And each ca

The meanes

Then come,

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To build our happy hearth in blooming Italy.

Thus, even as the steps they frame, Their souls fast alter to the same.

beside his lady's urn." In the delirium which follows, he raves of many crimes, but most

"Of one too dearly loved,
And one untimely slain,
Of an affection hardly proved

By murder done in vain."

He dies in madness, and the story ends abruptly and coldly. It has more faults than PINKNEY'S other works; in many passages it is obscure; its beauty is marred by the use of obsolete words; and the author seems to delight in drawing his comparisons from the least known portions of ancient literature.

Some of his lighter pieces are very beautiful. "A Health," "The Picture-Song," and "A Serenade," have not often been equalled; and

"Italy," an imitation of GOETHE'S Kennst du das Land-has some noble lines. Where is there a finer passage than this:

"The winds are awed, nor dare to breathe aloud; The air seems never to have borne a cloud, Save where volcanoes send to heaven their curl'd And solemn smokes, like altars of the world!” PINKNEY'S is the first instance in this country in which we have to lament the prostitution of true poetical genius to unworthy purposes. Pervading much that he wrote there is a selfish melancholy and sullen pride; dissatisfaction with the present, and doubts in regard to the future life. The great distinguishing characteristic of American poetry is its pure and high morality. May it ever be so!

ITALY.

KNOW'ST thou the land which lovers ought to choose?
Like blessings there descend the sparkling dews;
In gleaming streams the crystal rivers run,
The purple vintage clusters in the sun;
Odours of flowers haunt the balmy breeze,
Rich fruits hang high upon the verdant trees;
And vivid blossoms gem the shady groves,
Where bright-plumed birds discourse their careless
loves.

Beloved!-speed we from this sullen strand, Until thy light feet press that green shore's yellow sand.

[eye

Look seaward thence, and naught shall meet thine
But fairy isles, like paintings on the sky;
And, flying fast and free before the gale,
The gaudy vessel with its glancing sail;
And waters glittering in the glare of noon,
Or touch'd with silver by the stars and moon,
Or fleck'd with broken lines of crimson light,
When the far fisher's fire affronts the night.
Lovely as loved! toward that smiling shore
Bear we our household gods, to fix forever more.

It looks a dimple on the face of earth,
The seal of beauty, and the shrine of mirth;
Nature is delicate and graceful there,
The place's genius, feminine and fair;

The winds are awed, nor dare to breathe aloud;
The air seems never to have borne a cloud,
Save where volcanoes send to heaven their curl'd
And solemn smokes, like altars of the world.
Thrice beautiful!-to that delightful spot
Carry our married hearts, and be all pain forgot.
There Art, too, shows, when Nature's beauty palls,
Her sculptured marbles, and her pictured walls;
And there are forms in which they both conspire
To whisper themes that know not how to tire;
The speaking ruins in that gentle clime
Have but been hallow'd by the hand of Time,
And each can mutely prompt some thought of flame:
The meanest stone is not without a name.
Then come, beloved!-hasten o'er the sea,
To build our happy hearth in blooming Italy.

Why is that graceful female here
With yon red hunter of the deer?
Of gentle mien and shape, she seems
For civil halls design'd,

Yet with the stately savage walks,
As she were of his kind.
Look on her leafy diadem,
Enrich'd with many a floral gem:
Those simple ornaments about

Her candid brow, disclose
The loitering spring's last violet,

And summer's earliest rose; But not a flower lies breathing there Sweet as herself, or half so fair. Exchanging lustre with the sun, A part of day she straysA glancing, living, human smile On Nature's face she plays. Can none instruct me what are these Companions of the lofty trees?

11.

Intent to blend her with his lot,
Fate form'd her all that he was not;
And, as by mere unlikeness, thoughts
Associate we see,

Their hearts, from very difference, caught
A perfect sympathy.

The household goddess here to be
Of that one dusky votary,
She left her pallid countrymen,
An earthling most divine,
And sought in this sequester'd wood
A solitary shrine.

Behold them roaming hand in hand,
Like night and sleep, along the land;
Observe their movements:-he for her
Restrains his active stride,
While she assumes a bolder gait

To ramble at his side;
Thus, even as the steps they frame,
Their souls fast alter to the same.