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THERE rose, amid the boundless flood,
A little island green ;
That knew no other scene;
Save that a vague tradition ran,
That all the starry skies
Robed in the rainbow's dyes.
A youth there was of ardent soul,
Who viewed the azure hue, And saw the waves of ocean roll
Against its circle blue.
He launched his skiff, with bold intent
To seek the nations bright, And o'er the rolling waters went,
For many a day and night.
His lusty arms did stoutly strain,
Nor soon their vigor spent:
And climb the firmament;
Where glorious forms, in garments bright,
Dipped in the rainbow's dyes, And streets, star-paved, should lend their light
To his enraptured eyes.
And then might he his isle regain,
Fraught with a dazzling freight, And lead his kindred o'er the main
To that celestial state.
But, whilst he plied the bended oar,
The island left his view; And yet afar his bark before,
The azure circle flew.
Yet flattering hope did still sustain
And give him vigor new;
Retired the circle blue.
Though whirlpools yawned; and tempests frowned
And beat upon his head,
Hope on that phantom fed ;
Nor yet had ceased his labors vain,
Had not his vigor failed,
His vital spirit quailed.
Then Death appeared upon the sea,
An angel fair and bright;
A grim and haggard sprite.
And, " Thou dost chase," he said, " my child !
A phantom o'er the main;
Thou hast not toiled in vain.
“Thou hast thus roused each slumbering might,
And framed thy soul to be
Come, then, and follow me."
HYMN BY TWILIGHT.
See the hues of evening fading
From the sky and tranquil bay; See the groves, with deeper shading,
Brown the dale as fails the ray. Hear the distant torrent falling,
Hear the note of whip-poor-will,
Flocks that bleat on lonely hill.
Hear its far-off thunder roar,
Billows beat the eternal shore.
God is in the hues of heaven
Fading from the sky and bay; God is in the shades of even,
That chase the heavenly hues away. God is in the torrent falling,
In the song of whip-poor-will,
In the bleating on the hill,
In the distant thunder's roar,
On his everlasting shore.
God! Thou art all substance wreathing
Into forms that suit thy will;
One harmonious anthem still.
(FROM THE SCHOOL OF QUEEN MAB.) HALLOO ! halloo ! Wild woodland now!
How the twinkling stars look down !
And dark is the forest's frown.
My wild eyes laugh to greet,
Right merrily dance my feet.
Pure is the gale, and odors rise
From the wild woodland hill;
And shrilly the whip-poor-will;
Is a note of courage all free,
Gives music and motion to me,
The farmers' geese are very well fed,
And fat and sleek are they ;-
So let me seek my prey.
As over the brakes I fly;
Will float before my eye.
Ha! ha! I'll pause upon this height;
The village is all in view;
And I'll the game pursue.
'Tis surely not yet day-
Away! away! away!
But nearer they come, I fear;
Wow! wow ! — the hounds are near.
I'll pother the beagles soine-
And gain my mountain home.
A SUMMONS TO THE COUNTRY.
Is it to sit within thy stately hall,
Or tread the crowded street, thy chief delight? From all her heights and depths though Nature call Thee to her charms — though grove, and plain, and
height, Warble for thee — though Ocean's stormy might Thunder for thee — though the starred heavens sublime
Shine out for thee — though peering orient bright O'er mountain wood, the sire of day and time
Doth call for thee — and with retiring light Glance down his hues from their celestial clime
To lure thee forth ;-- yet can all these excite
Still wilt thou choose a prison-yard and cell?-