Welcomes her as a friend;-the heavenly train
Of Satellites attend her in her flight

From pole to pole; while a full chorused strain
Of Heaven's own music swells and dies in peace again.

Brightly she moves on in her loveliness!

The fair-haired regent of the sky!-Her smiles Soothe the stern horrors of the scene, and bless Nature's calm slumber; o'er yon splintered piles Of beetling crags, how sweetly she beguiles Gloom of its frown; and, see! the glittering rill Heaves conscious of her presence, and reviles, With murmuring voice, yon proudly frowning hill, That scorns meek Dian's gaze, and mocks her gentle will.

A sound rolls by of horror !-On the wind
Rides the dark bosomed Dæmon of the storm;
Whirlwinds, with meteor splendor, crowd behind,
And Heaven peals out the trumpet of alarm.
Hark! from yon murky cloud with lightning warm,
A voice of death proceeds!-The majesty

Of Heaven displays around its harrowing form!—
Hark! God in all his power is riding by!

Heard ye his chariot-wheels sweep echoing through the sky?

He speaks! scared nature trembles at the sound;

Earth, air, sky, ocean, dictate a reply;

The mountain-rock tolls out the voice profound,

And woodland echo multiplies the cry :—

Clashed with the night owl's scream, along the sky
Rolls the live thunder; through the forest caves,
Dim flashes the blue lightning;—eddying by
Leaps the swoll'n torrent, o'er the cataract raves
With brutal force, and headlong flings its billowy waves.

The night-breeze sails athwart the sky-the thunder
Has waked him from his sleep-the spirit hears

The dæmon's call, and rudely rends asunder
The bonds of rest: upon the cloud he rears

His deathless might, and wrathfully careers
Round the black rocks,-dashes in vengeance down
Their craggy summits,-damps the toil of years
With one rude whirlwind-and, more ruthless grown,
Heaves up the ocean waves his giant strength to crown.

And now he sinks in softness, and anon
Rolls on the ear with desolating peal;—
Again the voice is silent.-Is it gone,
The darksome horrors of the night to seal?
Forth peeps the moon; her watery beams reveal
The death that has been busy here;-again
The clouds sail round, as anxious to conceal
The sight of desolation, but in vain—

She walks in beauty forth, with all her starry train.

Chester Chronicle.

SONNET,

W. F. D.

COMPOSED ON THE SEA COAST.

BY S. T. COLERIDGE, ESQ.

O! IT is pleasant, with a heart at ease,
Just after sunset, or by moonlight skies,
To make the shifting clouds be what you please,
Or bid the easily persuaded eyes

Own each strange likeness issuing from the mould
Of a friend's fancy; or, with head bowed low,

And cheek aslant, see rivers flow of gold

"Twixt crimson banks, and then a traveller go

From mount to mount o'er CLOUDLAND,—gorgeous land!

Or listening to the tide with closed sight,

Be that blind bard, who on the Chian strand,

By those deep sounds possessed with inward light,

Beheld the Iliad and the Odyssee

Rise to the swelling of the voiceful sea!

Blackwood's Magazine.

A COUNTRY WEDDING.

OH! there is music in the bells,
From yonder noisy steeple pealing,
That sweetly o'er the spirit swells,

And wakes the deepest chords of feeling!

It is not that this twilight hour

Blends softly with their melting one; Theirs' is a deeper, holier power,

Whose echo's in the heart alone.

There's music in that merry voice-
The voice of peasants, wild and high,
That bids the listener's soul rejoice,
And share in all their revelry.

It is not that those sounds proclaim

Some boastful conqueror's vain parade ; They swell not now the pomp of fame, They hail no gorgeous cavalcade.

But oh! they bear a mightier charm
Than shouts of triumph can express!
They spring from hearts with feeling warm,
Each voice a voice of happiness.

There's an o'erflowing tide of gladness,
To night, in all we hear or see;
A moment's passing dream of madness-
The heart's delirious jubilee.

Who recks amid a life like this,

Of future grief, or toil, or pain? To-morrow shall dissolve the bliss, And care and reason wake again.

And may it be that yonder chime,

Which spoke to-day of hearts delighted,
May sadly tell, in after time,

That death those hearts has disunited?

It may be but away, away!

Forebodings dark, and dreams of sorrow;
Let mirth and music reign to-day,

And reason's voice be heard to-morrow.

I would not, with most sage advice,
Dispel this momentary fever;
For, oh! the world were paradise,
Could such delirium last for ever.

Etonian.

SONNET,

TO AILSA ROCK.

BY JOHN KEATS.

HEARKEN, thou craggy ocean pyramid !

Give answer from thy voice, the sea fowls' screams,
When were thy thunders mantled in huge streams?
When from the sun was thy broad forehead hid ?
How long is't since the mighty Power bid
Thee heave to airy sleep from fathom dreams?—
Sleep on the lap of thunder or sun-beams,-
Or when grey clouds are thy cold coverlid!

Thou answerest not, for thou art dead asleep;

Thy life is but two dread eternities;

The last in air, the former in the deep,—

First with the whales, last with the eagle skies ;

Drowned wast thou till an earthquake made thee steep,Another cannot bow thy giant size.

TO A GIRL THIRTEEN YEARS OF AGE.

THY smiles, thy talk, thy aimless plays,

So beautiful approve thee,

So winning, light, are all thy ways,

I cannot choose but love thee:

Thy balmy breath upon my brow
Is like the summer air,

As o'er my cheek thou leanest now
To plant a soft kiss there.

Thy steps are dancing toward the bound
Between the child and woman;
And thoughts and feelings more profound,
And other years are coming;
And thou shalt be more deeply fair,

More precious to the heart;

But never can'st thou be again,

That lovely thing thou art!

And youth shall pass, with all the brood

Of fancy-fed affection;

And care shall come with womanhood,

And 'waken cold reflection;

Thou❜lt learn to toil, and watch, and weep,

O'er pleasures unreturning,

Like one who wakes from pleasant sleep

Unto the cares of morning.

Nay, say not so! nor cloud the sun

Of joyous expectation,

Ordained to bless the little one,

The freshling of creation!

Nor doubt that HE, who now doth feed

Her early lamp with gladness,

Will be her present help in need,

Her comforter in sadness.