CROSSING THE ALLEGHANIES. One endless chaos spread before his eyes, Deep winding dell, and foaming mountain flood, Like giant capt with helm of burnish'd gold. 205 'Twas a vast silent mansion rich and gay, Whose occupant was drown'd the other day; A church-yard, where the gayest flowers oft bloom A charnel house, where all the human race THE CLOUDS. BY GEORGE D. STRONC. How beauteous o'er the blue expanse Pencilling their shadows on the evening sky, Veiling in mist the dim and wearied sun, Behold! behold them now! Tossing their gold-edged tresses on the breeze! Gliding like angels o'er the star-gemmed floor To heavenly symphonies! While distant seen, like hope to faith's clear view, Sleeps in calm splendour the cerulean blue! Ere yet imagination's wand Has traced the vision on the teeming brain, The fleeting pageant floats in mist, away Beyond the billowy main : But forms more beauteous wing again their flight, While eve reposes on the lap of night. THE CLOUDS. Yon castellated tower As proudly cuts its turrets on the sky, As if the portals of its airy halls Blazoned with heraldry! And who shall say, but in its chambers glide The mimic ship unfolds Her swelling canvass on the airy main; While forms of light unknown to mortals here, And many-coloured flowers, Changing their hues with every passing breeze, Fling their gigantic branches wide and far, How oft in childhood's hour I've watched the cloudlets pale the evening beam, Oh, then the clouds were ministers of joy Mother and sister! Ye Have passed from earth like suns untimely set! Do ye not look from yonder throne of clouds Upon me yet, Beckoning me now, with eager glance to come 207 Skeptic! whose chilling creed Would chain the spirit to life's bounded span, Learn from the clouds that upward poise their wing, Nor deem the soul divested of its shroud- THE TORNADO. [From the Backwoodsman.] BY J. K. PAULDING. Now down the mountain's rugged western side, Rocks tumbled on each other by rude chance, In wild and rough confusion, idly hurl'd, Where ne'er was heard the woodman's echoing stroke, Rose a huge forest of gigantic oak; With heads that tower'd half up the mountain's side, And arms extending round them far and wide, They look'd coeval with old mother earth, THE TORNADO. Beneath its dark, o'erhanging, sullen brow, And with right sturdy appetite, and strong, The squirrel eyed them from his lofty tree, Beasts flee from man the more his heart they know, And fears, at last, to fix'd aversion grow, 4 A distant, half heard murmur caught the ear, And more than twilight seem'd to veil the ground, And not a sound but that low moan was heard. There is a moment when the boldest heart That would not stoop an inch to 'scape death's dart, Will quail and shiver with an aguish fear; "Tis when some unknown mischief hovers nigh, And heaven itself seems threatening from on high. Brave was our Basil, as became a man, Yet still his blood a little cooler ran, "Twixt fear and wonder, at that murmur drear, That every moment wax'd more loud and near. 209 |