ADDENDA. LIFE'S VOYAGE. THERE rose, amid the boundless flood, And there a simple race abode Save that a vague tradition ran, A youth there was of ardent soul, He launched his skiff, with bold intent And o'er the rolling waters went, For many a day and night. His lusty arms did stoutly strain, Nor soon their vigor spent: Where glorious forms, in garments bright, And streets, star-paved, should lend their light And then might he his isle regain, But, whilst he plied the bended oar, Yet flattering hope did still sustain But still before him o'er the main Retired the circle blue. Though whirlpools yawned; and tempests frowned Hope on that phantom fed; Nor yet had ceased his labors vain, And 'neath the fever of his brain, Then Death appeared upon the sea, An angel fair and bright; For he is not what mortals say— A grim and haggard sprite. And, "Thou dost chase," he said, "my child! A phantom o'er the main; But though it has thy toils beguiled, Thou hast not toiled in vain. "Thou hast thus roused each slumbering might, And framed thy soul to be Fit now to climb yon starry height; Come, then, and follow me." HYMN BY TWILIGHT. SEE the hues of evening fading Hear the distant torrent falling, See yon cloud the distance glooming, 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 cloud the distance glooming, On his everlasting shore. God! Thou art all substance wreathing Into forms that suit thy will; God! Thou art through all things breathing REYNARD'S SOLILOQUY. (FROM THE SCHOOL OF QUEEN Mab.) Pure is the gale, and odors rise And the whip-poor-will's trill beneath the hill The farmers' geese are very well fed, The blood-hound lies in his dreamy bed, So let me seek my prey. On drumming wings the partridge springs, But soon, like specks, the lily-white necks Ha ha! I'll pause upon this height; The two-legged bodies are still to-night, But hark! - I hear a sound, I fear- O! 'tis the sound of the opening hound- O'er bush, o'er brake, o'er rock I go, 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 |