THE RECESS OF THE MUSES.

Original Poetry.

THE MISS PAINTER.—(A Portrait by Alexander.)

SEE ATH. GALLERY.

Aye, look around thee, lovely one-raise thy
Fair brow to yonder bright cerulean sky

Warm with the blush of day! thou wilt meet there
The imagings of thy young thoughts, which are
Pure as the glowing pageantry of Heaven,
When the first orient beam of light is given,
Tinting the wreathing clouds with its soft hue;
Thine upturn'd eye of bright etherial blue
Hath caught its lustre from that sacred urn,
Around whose fount, the circling planets burn—
Its glow of inspiration from that sky,
Where all thy pictured scenes of rapture lie.

Aye, look around thee-pencil thy gay dreams
Of happiness! to thee, creation seems

A paradise of beauty, love and joy,

And who thy blissful visions would destroy?

Oh, who would stay thy hand, and bid thee mark
The gathering tempest? as it rolls its dark
Wild clouds athwart the radiant face of day,
Chasing those mellow hues of light away-
And bid thee sketch the sombre shades that fall
O'er nature's bosom, like a funeral pall-

Smile while thou may'st, for soon thy path of bloom
May be o'ershadow'd by fate's chilling gloom.

SONNET.

CREATION.

Chaotic darkness reigns-his sceptre lay
Upon the mighty void-the deep, deep night!
The blacken'd ocean slept, nor flash'd a ray
Along its fearful bosom, reft of light!

Long, long the Dæmon held his sway high o'er
The dread profound-the dark abyss-no breeze,
Had ever woo'd or kissed its far off shore,
Nor seraph harps flung their glad symphonies!

AUGUSTA.

When lo! the mighty spirit moved upon
The deep-and from the high empyrean flows
A voice celestial! and behold the sun,
The starry coronal-the comet glows,

And chaos buds and blossoms as the rose !'

J. N. M.

MRS. WARE,—The following beautiful Sonnet to the moon' was written by the author of the poem entitled evening' which appeared in your last Bower.' It was suggested by a delightful walk in one of those calm and delightful evenings in August, when the heart that feels its loneliness, derives a soothing charm from the enjoyment of that soft and stilly hour.

And oh! to gaze upon that sky

When all its living fires are shining,
Might stay the tear in sorrow's eye,

And hush the anguish'd heart's repining.'-Amanda.

TO THE MOON.

Hail! lovely regent of the night

That shed'st around thy silvery light,

Casting a pitying look below,

Upon this world of care and wo;
Say-art thou conscious of the grief,
The misery hopeless of relief,
The sorrow that inhabits here,
Within this cold and earthly sphere?
And hast thou seen the tears that start
From many a bleeding, broken heart?
Or art thou witness to the sighs,
From many a troubled breast that rise?
Hast thou beheld the hopes of youth,
All blighted, and corrupted truth?
And hast thou known, oh! lovely orb,
Those feelings that the soul absorb,
The agony, the heart-felt woe,
Of those so closely link'd below,

That the dim word, which dooms to part,
Must break and crush each bleeding heart?
Know'st thou the unutterable spell,
That lies in that sad word- farewell?'
Ah no, bright sphere, thou glidest by,
Along the azure-arched sky,
All, all unconscious of the strife
That mingles with our joyous life;
Thou journey'st on-thy heavenly form,
High, high above earth's chilling storm,
In pensive beauty wandering by,
Thou heedest not a mortal sigh-
Fair orb! how many an ardent gaze
Is fixed upon thy placid rays;
How many an eye now darkly turns,
To where thy gentle glory burns;
How many a friendly glance is thrown,
To see thee beaming bright and lone!
Oh that each eye might welcome me,
Which now hath fixed its gaze on thee!
Would that each beaming glance which now
Is turning to thy glowing brow,

Might meet and mingle here with mine,
Beneath a ray as pure as thine.

E.

400

STANZAS.

My early pleasures; where are they?
The hours that gave them birth
Have melted away, like the close of day,
When it leaves the beauteous earth;
Have melted away as the sun's bright ray
Is lost in the sky of even,

When the star of the west is in splendor drest,
In the dark clear blue of heaven.

Dear youthful pleasures! blest employ!
How oft in fancy's dream,

Those visions of joy, no time can destroy,
In happy existence seem;

Their pensive light, like the moon by night,

Is hallow'd, though distant far;

As the gem at rest, o'er the wild wave's breast,
The mariner's homeward star.

Loved friends of childhood! gentle hearts,
To memory ever dear!

The tear that starts when the fondest departs,
For you has been sincere ;

And the grief that opprest the aching breast
Could never be more deep;

Oh, who has not sighed o'er joys that have died,
And friends who have sunk to sleep?

TO HENRY,

Take back the ring--I may not wear
The gem I used to prize;

I would not e'en in memory bear
This proof of former ties.

Take back this golden chain you gave,

(With every pledge I'd part,)

For never, never can it weave

Its links around my heart!

Take back the 'volume,' that fair 'TOKEN'

Given in love's fond name,

For since the sacred tie is broken,

The gift I cannot claim.

The 'seal of truth,' the page so fair,

Inscribed by love and thee

E'en this bright curl of auburn hair,

No more is dear to me.

These echo's ne'er shall speak thy name,

No thought of thee intrude,

One sigh from my chill'd heart to claim,/
In this lone solitude.

ECHO.

Answering as echo doth, some tone

Of fairy music 'mong the hills,

ROSALIA.

So like itself, we seek in vain

Which is the echo, which the strain.

Moore.

G****