Would steal an upward glance, and bless

With smiles his mother's tenderness;

Confining laughter to his eyes,

Lest he should lose the teeming prize :—

That darling Babe who, sleeping, proved,

More than when waking, how she loved.
Then was her ever watchful ear

Prepared to catch the smallest noise, Which sometimes hope and sometimes fear

Would liken to her infant's voice.

With beating heart and timid flush,

On tiptoe to his cot she crept,

Lifting the curtain with a hush,

To gaze upon him as he slept.

Then would she place his outstretch'd arm

Beside his body, close and warm;

Adjust his scatter'd clothes aright,

And shade his features from the light,

And look a thousand fond caressings

And move her lips in speechless blessings,

Her only earthly hope and stay,

For ever should be wrench'd away?
No, no-to such o'erpowering grief
Oblivion brings a short relief:

She hears no sound, all objects swim
Before her sight confused and dim;
She feels each sick'ning sense decay,

Sinks shudd'ring down, and faints away!

Her child revives,-its fit is o'er;

When with affrighted zeal it tries

By voice and kisses to restore

The mother's dormant faculties;

Till nature's tides with quicken'd force Resume their interrupted course :

Her eyes she opens, sees her boy,

Gazes with sense-bewilder'd start,

Utters a thrilling cry of joy,

Clasps him in transport to her heart, Stamps kisses on his mouth, his cheek, Looks up to heaven, and tries to speak; But voice is drown'd in heaving throbs,

Outgushing tears, and gasping sobs.

THE SUN'S ECLIPSE.JULY 8TH, 1842.

"Tis cloudless morning, but a frown misplaced,

Cold-lurid-strange,

The summer smile from Nature's brow hath chased.

What fearful change,

What menacing catastrophe is thus

Usher'd by such prognostics ominous ?

Is it the light of day, this livid glare,

Death's counterpart:

What means the withering coldness in the air

That chills my heart,

And what the gloom portentous that hath made

The glow of morning a funereal shade?

O'er the Sun's disc a dark orb wins its slow

Gloom-deep'ning way,

Climbs-spreads-enshrouds-extinguishes-and lo! The god of day

Hangs in the sky, a corpse! th' usurper's might

Hath storm'd his throne, and quench'd the life of light!

A pall is on the earth-the screaming birds

To covert speed;

Bewilder'd and aghast, the bellowing herds

Rush o'er the mead;

While men, pale shadows in the ghastly gloom,
Seem spectral forms just risen from the tomb.

Transient, tho' total was that drear eclipse:

With might restored

The Sun re-gladden'd earth-but human lips

Have never pour'd

In mortal ears the horrors of the sight

That thrill'd my soul that memorable night.