Upon a rock; where hope sinks as it soars, The leaves, flowers, clouds, echoes and singing birds That stormy barrier of a parted earth;- For, there was nature's utmost luxury, And theirs the happiness of hearth and home STANZAS FOR MUSIC. BY THE REV. THOMAS DALE. WAKE, oh, wake!—the morning star Hath ceased to grace his glittering car; Slowly the reddening clouds unfold, And frequent streaks of living gold Announce the Lord of Day; The light breeze wafts perfume on high, -Less sweet alone than Rosa's sigh!— The flower with fresher tints is glowing, The fount with clearer crystal flowing ;Oh come! oh come! Hours like this a charm impart That wins the eye, but not the heart, Wake, oh, wake!—through every grove To bid thee burst dull slumber's chain, Though morning glow with tints divine, I'd change her brightest blush for thine, And deem thine eye, from sleep awaking, Outshone the sun through darkness breaking : Oh come! oh come! Hours like this are quickly fled,— But thy fond smile a joy can shed THE TWO HUSSARS, A GERMAN TALE. THE shades of evening had descended over the city of Prague, ere Leopold Rosenwold entered his quarters. He was a stranger, and the occasion of his arrival of a melancholy nature. He had been ordered to take the duty, in consequence of the sudden death of the only officer of the regiment with whom he had ever been upon intimate terms. The place of his abode was the same which had been assigned to Capt. Vanostrode,-a government building, situated in one of the most unfrequented streets. It looked exceedingly dismal, by the dim light of a lamp which burned before a shrine of the Virgin, in its immediate vicinity; and the interior was still more gloomy than even the outer appearance indicated. A wide, dark staircase and a long gallery ushered the young hussar into a suite of large lofty apartments, scantily furnished. The house would have accommodated the whole regiment; but a few soldiers, whose barrack rooms looked another way, were the only tenants besides himself. S Memorials of his friend met him, at every step; his sash still formed a festoon over the ample fire-place, between a brace of pistols; and his books and musical instruments were scattered, in different places, through the apartments. The recollections which they produced impressed Leopold's heart with a deeper shade of sadness. There is scarcely any thing more depressing to the spirits than the feeling of perfect solitude, in the centre of a crowded city. Leopold was often, by choice, alone; but, now, he would have given much for a companion. The evening was cold and unpleasant; and, some what fatigued by the exertions of the day, he felt disinclined to wander abroad in search of amusement. He strolled to the window; a high dark building reared its frowning walls on the opposite side of the narrow street; but all was silent and deserted. He sat down by the fire of green wood which blazed feebly on the hearth, and gazed upon vacancy, until he almost fancied that he could see the pale face of his friend, dimly shaped in the dreary void. He stretched out his hand for a book, and strove to beguile the weary hours with its contents. The volume was filled with wild tales; of human beings who had brought sin and misery upon their heads, by dabbling in forbidden arts, fearful mysteries by which the enemy of man might be summoned at need; tales of vampires, thrusting their unhallowed bodies into the assemblies of the living; and of the murder of infants, slaughtered for the purpose of |