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Poetry of the Sentiments.
BY RICHARD H. DANA.
Ho! how the giant heaves himself, and strains And flings to break his strong and viewless chains; Foams in his wrath; and at his prison doors, Klark! hear him! how he beats, and tugs, and
roars, 4. As if he would break forth again and sweep Each living thing within his lowest deep.
Type of the Infinite ! I look away Over thy billows, and I cannot stay My thought upon a resting-place, or make A shore beyond my vision, where they break; But on my spirit stretches, till it's pain To think ; then rests, and then puts forth again.
Thou hold'st me by a spell; and on thy beach I feel all soul; and thoughts unmeasured reach Far back beyond all date. And, O! how old Thou art to me. For countless years thou'st roll'd.
Before an ear did hear ihee, thou didst niourn, Prophet of sorrows, o'er a race unborn; Waiting, thou mighty minister of death, Lonely thy work, ere man had drawn his breath. At last thou didet it well! The dread command Came, and thou swept'st to death the breathing
land; And then once more, unto the silent heaven Thy lone and melancholy voice was given.
And though the land is throng'd again, O sea ! Strange sadness touches all that goes with thee. The small bird's plaining note, the wild, sharp call, Share thy own spirit: it is sadness all! How dark and stern upon thy waves looks down Yonder tall cliff-he with the iron crown. And see! those sable pines along the steep, Are come to join thy requiem, gloomy deep ! Like stoled monks they stand and chant the dirge Over the dead, with thy low bearing surge.
TO THE URSA MAJOR.
BY HENRY WARE, JR. With what a stately and majestic step That glorious constellation of the north Treads its eternal circle ! going forth Its princely way among the stars in slow And silent brightness. Mighty one, all hail ! I joy to see thee on thy glowing path Walk, like some stout and girded giant; stern, Unwearied, resolute, whose toiling foot Disdains to loiter on its destined way. The other tribes forsake their midnight track, And rest their weary orbs beneath the wave; But thou dost never close thy burning eye, Nor stay thy steadfast step. But on, still on, While systems change, and suns retire, and worlds Slumber and wake, thy ceaseless march proceeds. The near horizon tempts to rest in vain. Thou, faithful sentinel, dost never quit Thy long-appointed watch ; but, sleepless still, Dost guard the fix'd light of the universe, And bid the north for ever know its place.
Ages have witness'd thy devoted trust, Unchanged, unchanging. When the sons of God Sent forth that shout of joy which rang through
heaven, And echo'd from the outer spheres that bound
The illimitable universe, thy voice
hills Have stoop'd with age; the solid continents Have left their banks; and man'simperial works The toil, pride, strength of kingdoms, which had
flung Their haughty honours in the face of heaven, As if immortal-have been swept away: Shatter'd and mouldering, buried and forgot. But time has shed no dimness on thy front, Nor touch'd the firmness of thy tread; youth,
strength, And beauty still are thine; as clear, as bright, As when the almighty Former sent thee forth, Beautiful offspring of his curious skill, To watch earth's northern beacon, and proclaim The eternal chorus of eternal Love,
I wonder as I gaze. Tha: stream of light,
Undimm'd, unquench'd-just as I see it now
strips The flight of thought, were on their way, the earth Compass'd its tedious circuit round and round, And, in the extremes of annual change, beheld Six autumns fade, six springs renew their bloom. So far from earth those mighty orbs revolve! So vast the void through which their beams de.
scend ! Yes, glorious lamp of God! He may have
quench'd Your ancient flames, and bid eternal night Rest on your spheres; and yet no tidings reach This distant planet. Messengers still come Laden with your far fire, and we may seem To see your lights still burning; while their blaze But hides the black wreck of extinguish'd realms, Where anarchy and darkness long have reign'd.
Yet what is this, which to the astonish'd mind Seems measureless, and which the baffled thought Confounds ? A span, a point, in those domains Which the keen eye can traverse. Seven stars