When, by our bark, that bright one passed,
With a deep, disturbing motion;
The far-down waters shrank away,
With a gurgling rush up-heaving,
And the lifted waves grew pale and sad,
Their mother's bosom leaving.

Yet, as it passed our bending stern,
In its throne-like glory going,

It crushed on a hidden rock, and turned
Like an empire's overthrowing;

The uptorn waves rolled hoar and huge,
The far-thrown undulations

Swelled out in the sun's last lingering smile,
And fell like battling nations.

J. O. ROCKWELL.

A THAW IN THE ARCTIC REGIONS.

THOSE sullen seas,

That washed the ungenial Pole, will rest no more
Beneath the shackles of the mighty North,
But, rousing all their waves, resistless heave.
And, hark! the lengthening roar continuous runs
Athwart the rifted deep: at once it bursts,
And piles a thousand mountains to the clouds.
Ill fares the bark, with trembling wretches charged,
That, tossed amid the floating fragments, moors

THE CROSS OF THE SOUTH.

111

Beneath the shelter of an icy isle,

While night o'erwhelms the sea, and horrid looks More horrible. Can human force endure

Th' assembled mischiefs that besiege them round?
Heart-gnawing hunger, fainting weariness,

The roar of winds and waves, the crush of ice,
Now ceasing, now renewed with louder rage,
And in dire echoes bellowing round the main.
More to embroil the deep, Leviathan

And his unwieldy train, in dreadful sport,
Tempest the loosened brine; while thro' the gloom,
Far from the bleak inhospitable shore,

Loading the winds, is heard the hungry howl
Of famished monsters, there awaiting wrecks.
Yet PROVIDENCE, that ever-waking Eye,
Looks down with pity on the feeble toil
Of mortals lost to hope, and lights them safe
Through all this dreary labyrinth of fate.

THOMSON.

THE CROSS OF THE SOUTH.

IN the silence and grandeur of midnight I tread, Where savannas in boundless magnificence spread; And bearing sublimely their snow-wreaths on high, The far Cordilleras unite with the sky.

The fern-tree waves o'er me, the fire-fly's red light, With its quick-glancing splendour, illumines the night;

And I read, in each tint of the skies and the earth, How distant my steps from the land of my birth.

But to thee, as thy loadstars resplendently burn, In their clear depths of blue, with devotion I turn, Bright cross of the south! and beholding thee shine, Scarce regret the loved land of the olive and vine.

Thou recallest the ages when first o'er the main
My fathers unfolded the streamer of Spain,
And planted their faith in the regions that see
Its imperishing symbol emblazoned in thee.

How oft, in their course o'er the oceans unknown,
Where all was mysterious and awfully lone,
Hath their spirit been cheered by thy light, when
the deep

Reflected its brilliance, in tremulous sleep!

As the vision that rose to the Lord of the world, When first His bright banner of faith was unfurled; E'en such, to the heroes of Spain, when their prow Made the billows the path of their glory, wert thou!

And to me, as I traverse the world of the West, Through deserts of beauty, in stillness that rest,

THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM.

113

By forests and rivers untamed in their pride,
Thy beams have a language, thy course is a guide.

Shine on! my own land is a far distant spot,
And the stars of thy sphere can enlighten it not;
And the eyes which I love, though e'en now they
may be

O'er the firmament wandering, can gaze not on thee!

But thou to my thoughts art a pure-blazing shrine,
A fount of bright hopes and of visions divine;
And my soul, as an eagle exulting and free,
Soars high o'er the Andes, to mingle with thee!
MRS HEMANS.

THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM.

WHEN marshalled on the nightly plain,
The glittering host bestud the sky,
One star alone, of all the train,

Can fix the sinner's wandering eye.

Hark! hark! to God the chorus breaks
From every host, from every gem;
But one alone the Saviour speaks-
It is the Star of Bethlehem.

H

Once on the raging seas I rode,

The storm was loud-the night was darkThe ocean yawned and rudely blowed

The wind that tossed my foundering bark.

Deep horror then my vitals froze;
Death-struck, I ceased the tide to stem;
When suddenly a star arose

It was the Star of Bethlehem.

It was my guide, my light, my all,
It bade my dark forebodings cease;
And through the storm and danger's thrall
It led me to the port of peace.

Now safely moored my perils o'er,
I'll sing, first in night's diadem,

For ever, and for evermore,

The Star!-the Star of Bethlehem!

HENRY KIRKE WHITE.

TO THE WIND.

THY trumpet-breath is still unspent,
Thou mighty rushing gale;
Beneath thy hand the trees are bent,

Like creatures pained they wail;