feebler than it had been; but when she beheld her face in the sea, she could no longer overlook the unwelcome defect. The season was boisterous; the wind rose suddenly, and the waves burst into foam; perhaps the tide, for the first time, was then affected by sympathy with the moon; and what had never happened before, an universal tempest mingled heaven and earth in rain, and lightning, and darkness. She plunged among the thickest of the thunder-clouds, and in the confusion that hid her disgrace, her exulting rivals were all likewise put out of countenance.

10. On the next evening, and every evening afterward, the moon came forth later, and less, and dimmer; while on each occasion, more and more of the minor stars, which had formerly vanished from her eye, re-appeared to witness her fading honors and disfigured form. Prosperity had made her vain; adversity brought her to her mind again, and humility soon *compensated the loss of glaring distinction, with softer charms, which won the regard which haughtiness had repelled; for when she had worn off her uncouth +gibbous aspect, and through the last quarter, her profile *waned into a hollow shell, she appeared more graceful than ever in the eyes of all heaven.

11. When she was originally seen among them, the stars contemned her; afterward, as she grew in beauty, they envied, feared, hated, and finally fled from her. As she relapsed into insignificance, they first rejoiced in her decay, and then endured her superiority, because it could not last long; but when they marked how she had wasted away every time they met, compassion succeeded, and, on the last three nights, (like a human fair one, in the latest stages of decline, growing lovelier and dearer to her friends till the close,) she disarmed hostility, conciliated kindness, and secured affection. She was admired, beloved, and unenvied by all.

12. At length there came a night when there was no moon. There was silence in heaven all that night. In serene meditation on the changes of the month, the stars pursued their journey from sunset to day-break. The comet had, likewise, departed into unknown regions. His fading luster had been attributed, at first, to the bolder radiance of the moon in her +meridian; but, during the wane, while inferior luminaries were brightening around her, he was growing fainter

and smaller every evening, and now, he was no more. Of the rest, planets and stars, all were unimpaired in their light, and the former only slightly varied in their positions. The whole multitude, wiser by experience, and better for their knowledge, were humble, contented, and grateful, each for his lot, whether splendid or obscure.

13. Next evening, to the joy and astonishment of all, the moon, with a new crescent, was descried in the west; and instantly, from every quarter of the heavens, she was congratulated on her happy resurrection. Just as she went down, while her bow was yet trecumbent in the dark purple *horizon, it is said that an angel appeared, standing between her horns. Turning his head, his eye glanced rapidly over the universe; the sun far sunk behind him, the moon under his feet, the earth spread in prospect before him, and the firmament all glittering with constellations above. He paused a moment, and then in that tongue, wherein, at the accomplishment of creation, "the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy," he thus brake forth: "Great and marvelous are thy works, Lord God Almighty! In wisdom hast thou made them all. Who would not fear thee, O Lord, and glorify thy name, for thou only art holy !" He ceased; and from that hour there has been harmony in heaven.

CLXXV.

THUNDER-STORM ON THE ALPS.
FROM BYRON.

1. CLEAR, placid Leman! thy *contrasted lake,
With the wide world I dwell in, is a thing
Which warns me with its stillness, to forsake
Earth's troubled waters for a purer spring.
This quiet sail is as a noiseless wing
To waft me from +distractions; once I lov'd
Torn ocean's roar, but thy soft murmuring
Sounds sweet, as if a sister's voice reprov'd,
That I with stern delight should e'er have been so mov'd.

2. All heaven and earth are still; though not in sleep,
But breathless, as we grow when feeling most;
And silent, as we stand in thoughts too deep:

All heaven and earth are still: from the high host
Of stars, to the lull'd lake and mountain-coast,
All is concenter'd in a life intense,

Where not a beam, nor air, nor leaf is lost,

But hath a part of being, and a sense

Of that which is of all, creator and defense.

3. The sky is chang'd! and such a change! O night,
And storm, and darkness, ye are wondrous strong!
Yet lovely in your strength, as is the light
Of a dark eye in woman! Far along,
From peak to peak, the rattling tcrags among,
Leaps the live thunder! —not from one lone cloud,
But every mountain now hath found a tongue;
And Jura answers through her +misty shroud,
Back to the joyous Alps, who call to her aloud!

4. And this is in the night.—Most glorious night!
Thou wert not sent for slumbers! let me be
A sharer in thy fierce and far delight;
A portion of the tempest and of thee!
How the lit lake shines! -

a +phosphoric sea!

And the big rain comes dancing to the earth!

And now again, 't is black; and now, the glee
Of the loud hills shakes with its mountain mirth,
As if they did rejoice o'er a young earthquake's birth.

5. Now, where the swift +Rhone +cleaves his way between
Hights, which appear as lovers who have parted
In hate, whose *mining depths so intervene,
That they can meet no more, though broken-hearted;
Though in their souls, which thus each other thwarted,
Love was the very root of the fond rage,

Which blighted their life's bloom, and then-departed!·
Itself expir'd, but leaving them an age

Of years, all winters -war within themselves to wage;

6. Now, where the quick Rhone thus hath cleft his way,
The mightiest of the storms has ta'en his stand!
For here, not one, but many make their play,
And fling their thunder-bolts from hand to hand,
Flashing, and cast around! Of all the land,
The brightest through these parted hills hath fork'd
His lightnings- as if he did understand,
That in such gaps as +desolation work'd,

There, the hot shaft should blast whatever therein lurk'd.

CLXXVI. - THE MANIAC.

FROM LEWIS.

Ir is said, that a gentleman in England, in order to gain possession of his wife's property, confined her in a mad-house, under pretence of insanity, until she became really a maniac.

1. STAY, jailer, stay, and hear my woe!
She is not mad who kneels to thee;

For what I'am now, too well I know,
And what I was, and what should be.
I'll rave no more in proud despair;
My language shall be mild, though sad:
But yet I'll firmly, truly swear,

I am not mad; I am not mad.

2. My tyrant husband forg'd the tale,
Which chains me in this dismal cell;
My fate unknown my friends bewail;
Oh! jailer, haste that fate to tell;
Oh! haste my father's heart to cheer:
His heart at once 't will grieve and glad
To know, though kept a captive here,
I am not mad; I am not mad.

;

3. He smiles in scorn, and turns the key;
He quits the grate; I knelt in vain
His glimmering lamp, still, still I see;
'Tis gone, and all is gloom again:
Cold! bitter cold! no warmth! no light!
Life, all thy comforts once I had;
Yet here I'm chain'd, this freezing night,
Although not mad; no, no, not mad.

4. 'Tis sure some dream, some vision vain;
What! I, the child of rank and wealth?
Am I the wretch who clanks this chain,
Bereft of freedom, friends, and health?
Ah! while I dwell on blessings fled,
Which never more my heart must glad,
How aches my heart, how burns my head;
But 't is not mad; no, 't is not mad.

5. Hast thou, my child, forgot, ere this,
A mother's face, a mother's tongue?
She'll ne'er forget your parting kiss,
Nor round her neck how fast you clung;

They'll make me mad; they'll make me mad.

6. His rosy lips, how sweet they smiled!

His mild, blue eyes, how bright they shone!
None ever bore a lovelier child:

And art thou now forever gone?
And must I never see thee more,
My pretty, pretty, pretty lad?
I will be free! unbar the door!

I am not mad; I am not mad.

7. Oh! hark! what mean those yells and cries?
His chain some furious madman breaks;
He comes; I see his glaring eyes;

Now, now my dungeon grate he shakes.
Help! help! He's gone! Oh! fearful woe,
Such screams to hear, such sights to see!
My brain, my brain, — I know, I know,
I am not mad, but soon shall be.

8. Yes, soon; - for, lo you! — while I speak,
Mark how yon Demon's eye-balls glare!
He sees me; now, with dreadful shriek,
He whirls a serpent high in air.
Horror! the reptile strikes his tooth
Deep in my heart, so crush'd and sad;
Ay, laugh, ye fiends; - I feel the truth;

Your task is done! -I'm mad! I'm mad!

CLXXVII. - IMPORTANCE OF THE UNION.

FROM WEBSTER.

1. MR. PRESIDENT. I am conscious of having detained you and the senate much too long. I was drawn into the debate with no previous deliberation, such as is suited to the discussion of so grave and important a subject. But it is a subject of which my heart is full, and I have not been willing to suppress the utterance of its spontaneous sentiments. I can not, even now, persuade myself to relinquish it, without expressing once mere, my deep conviction, that, since it