Of everlasting winter. But within
Are glorious palaces, and domes of light,
Irradiate halls, and crystal colonnades,

Vaults set with gems, the purchase of a crown,
Blazing with lustre past the noon-tide beam,
Or, with a milder beauty, mimicking
The mystic signs of changeful Mazzaroth.
Tam. Unheard of splendor!

Had. There they dwell, and muse,
And wander; Beings beautiful, immortal,
Minds vast as heaven, capacious as the sky,

Whose thoughts connect past, present, and to come,
And glow with light intense, imperishable.

Thus, in the sparry chambers of the sea
And air-pavilions, rainbow tabernacles,
They study Nature's secrets, and enjoy
No poor dominion.

Tam. Are they beautiful,

And powerful far beyond the human race?

Had. Man's feeble heart cannot conceive it. When

The sage described them, fiery eloquence

Flowed from his lips, his bosom heaved, his eyes

Grew bright and mystical; moved by the theme,

Like one who feels a deity within.

Tam. Wondrous!-What intercourse have they with men? Had. Sometimes they deign to intermix with man,

But oft with woman.

Tam. Hah! with woman?

Had. She

Attracts them with her gentler virtues, soft,

And beautiful, and heavenly, like themselves.

They have been known to love her with a passion

Stronger than human.

Tam. That surpasses all

You yet have told me.

Had. This the sage affirms;

And Moses, darkly.

Tam. How do they appear?

How manifest their love?

Had. Sometimes 'tis spiritual, signified

By beatific dreams, or more distinct

And glorious apparition.-They have stooped
To animate a human form, and love
Like mortals.

Tam. Frightful to be so belove‹l!

Who could endure the horrid thought!-What makes
Thy cold hand tremble? or is't mine

That feels so deathy?

Had. Dark imaginations haunt me

When I recall the dreadful interview.

Tam. O, tell them not-I would not hear them. Had. But why contemn a Spirit's love? so high, So glorious, if he haply deigned?—

Tam. Forswear

My Maker! love a Demon!

Had. No-0, no

My thoughts but wandered-Oft, alas! they wander.
Tam. Why dost thou speak so sadly now?-and lo!
Thine eyes are fixed again upon Arcturus.

Thus ever, when thy drooping spirits ebb,
Thou gazest on that star. Hath it the power
To cause or cure thy melancholy mood?-

[He appears lost in thought.]

Tell me, ascrib'st thou influence to the stars?

Had. (starting.) The stars! What know'st thou of the

stars?

Tam. I know that they were made to rule the night. Had. Like palace lamps! thou echoest well thy grandsire Woman! the stars are living, glorious,

Amazing, infinite!

Tam. Speak not.so wildly.

I know them numberless, resplendent, set
As symbols of the countless, countless years
That make eternity.

Had. Eternity!

Oh! mighty, glorious, miserable thought!—
Had ye endured like those great sufferers,
Like them, seen ages, myriad ages roll;
Could ye but look into the void abyss

With eyes experienced, unobscured by torments,—
Then mightst thou name it, name it feelingly.

Tam. What ails thee, Hadad?-Draw me not so close. Had. Tamar! I need thy love-more than thy loveTam. Thy cheek is wet with tears-Nay, let us part'Tis late-I cannot, must not linger.

[Breaks from him, and exit.] Had. Loved and abhorred!-Still, still accursed![He paces, twice or thrice, up and down, with passionate gestures; then turns his face to the sky, and stands a moment in silence }

In the illimitable space, in what

-Oh! where,

Profound of untried misery, when all

His worlds, his rolling orbs of light, that fill

With life and beauty yonder infinite,

Their radiant journey run, for ever set,

Where, where, in what abyss shall I be groaning?

[Exit.]

Hadad's Description of the City of David.-HILLHOUSE.

"TIS so;-the hoary harper sings aright;
How beautiful is Zion!--Like a queen,
Armed with a helm in virgin loveliness,
Her heaving bosom in a bossy cuirass,
She sits aloft, begirt with battlements
And bulwarks swelling from the rock, to guard
The sacred courts, pavilions, palaces,

Soft gleaming through the umbrage of the woods,
Which tuft her summit, and, like raven tresses,
Wave their dark beauty round the tower of David.
Resplendent with a thousand golden bucklers,
The embrazures of alabaster shine;

Hailed by the pilgrims of the desert, bound
To Judah's mart with orient merchandise.
But not, for thou art fair and turret-crowned,
Wet with the choicest dew of heaven, and blessed
With golden fruits, and gales of frankincense,
Dwell I beneath thine ample curtains. Here,

Where saints and prophets teach, where the stern law
Still speaks in thunder, where chief angels watch,

And where the Glory hovers, here I war.

The Song at Twilight.-LUCRETIA MARIA DAVIDSON.*
WHEN evening spreads her shades around,
And darkness fills the arch of heaven;

When not a murmur, not a sound,

To Fancy's sportive ear is given;

*The remains and a biographical sketch of this remarkable girl were published last year by Mr. Samuel F. B. Morse. An interesting review of the volume appeared soon after in the London Quarterly: we are not

Hagar in the Wilderness.-N. P. WILLIS.

THE morning broke. Light stole upon the clouds With a strange beauty. Earth received again Its garment of a thousand dies; and leaves, And delicate blossoms, and the painted flowers, And every thing that bendeth to the dew, And stirreth with the daylight, lifted up Its beauty to the breath of that sweet morn.

All things are dark to sorrow; and the light,
And loveliness, and fragrant air were sad
To the dejected Hagar. The moist earth
Was pouring odors from its spicy pores,
And the young birds were caroling as life
Were a new thing to them; but, oh! it came
Upon her heart like discord, and she felt
How cruelly it tries a broken heart,

To see a mirth in any thing it loves.

She stood at Abraham's tent. Her lips were pressed
Till the blood left them; and the wandering veins
Of her transparent forehead were swelled out,
As if her pride would burst them. Her dark eye
Was clear and tearless, and the light of heaven,
Which made its language legible, shot back
From her long lashes, as it had been flame.
Her noble boy stood by her, with his hand
Clasped in her own, and his round, delicate feet,
Scarce trained to balance on the tented floor,
Sandaled for journeying. He had looked up
Into his mother's face until he caught

The spirit there, and his young heart was swelling
Beneath his snowy bosoin, and his form
Straightened up proudly in his tiny wrath,
As if his light proportions would have swelled,
Had they but matched his spirit, to the man.

Why bends the patriarch as he cometh now
Upon his staff so wearily? His beard
Is low upon his breast, and his high brow,
So written with the converse of his God,
Beareth the swollen vein of agony.
His lip is quivering, and his wonted step
Of vigor is not there; and, though the morn