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Dwell in that brilliant cluster, and the sight
Embraces all at once; vet each from each
Recedes as far as each of them from earth.
And every star from every other burns
No less remote. From the profound of heaven,
Untravell'd even in thought, keen, piercing rays
Dart through the void, revealing to the sense
Systems and worlds unnumber'd. Take the glass
And search the skies. The opening skies pour

down
Upon your gaze thick showers of sparkling fire;
Stars, crowded, throng’d, in regions so remote,
That their swift beams—the swifiest things that

beHave travell’d centuries on their flight to earth. Earth, sun, and nearer constellations! what Are ye amid this infinite extent And multitude of God's most infinite works!

And these are suns! vast central, living fires, Lords of dependent systems, kings of worlds That wait as satellites upon their power, And flourish in their smile. Awake, my soul, And meditate the wonder! Countless suns Blaze round thee, leading forth their countless

worlds! Worlds in whose bosoms living things rejoice, And drink the bliss of being from the fount Of all-pervading Love. What mind can know, What tongue can utter all their multitudes ! Thus numberless in numberless abodes !

Known but to thee, blessed Father! Thine they

are, Thy children, and thy care; and none o'erlook'd Or thee! No, not the humblest soul that dwells Upon the humblest globe, which wheels its

course Amid the giant glories of the sky, Like the mean mote that dances in the beam Amongst the mirror'd lamps, which fling Their wasteful splendour from the palace wall, None, none escape the kindness of thy care ; All compass'd underneath thy spacious wing, Each fed and guided by thy powerful hand. Tell me, ye splendid orbs! as from your

throne Yo mark the rolling provinces that own Your sway, what beings fill those bright abodes? How form’d, how gifted ? what their powers,

their state,
Their happiness, their wisdom? Do they bear
The stamp of human nature? Or has God
Peopled those purer realms with lovelier forms
And more celestial minds? Does Innocence
Still wear her native and untainted bloom ?
Or has Sin breathed his deadly blight abroad,
And sow'd corruption in those fairy bowers ?
Has War trod o'er them with his foot of fire ?
And Slavery forged his chains; and Wrath, and

Hate,
And sordid Selfishness, and cruel Lust

B

Leagued their base bands to tread out light and

truth, And scatter wo where Heaven had planted joy? Or are they yet all paradise, unfallen And uncorrupt ? existence one long joy, Without disease upon the frame, or sin Upon the heart, or weariness of life; Hope never quench’d, and age unknown, And death unfear'd; while fresh and fadeless

youth Glows in the light from God's near throne of

love? Open your lips, ye wonderful and fair! Speak, speak! the mysteries of those living worlds Unfold! No language ? Everlasting light And everlasting silence? Yet the eye May read and understand. The hand of GOD Has written legibly what man may know, THE GLORY OF THE MAKER. There it shines, Ineffable, unchangeable ; and man, Bound to the surface of this pigmy globe, May know and ask no more. In other days, When death shall give the encumber'd spirit

wings, Its range shall be extended; it shall roam, Perchance, among those vast, mysterious spheres, Shall pass from orb to orb, and dwell in each, Familiar with its children; learn their laws, And share their state, and study and adore The infinite varieties of bliss

And beauty, by the hand of Power divine
Lavish'd on all its works. Eternity
Shall thus roll on with ever fresh delight;
No pause of pleasure or improvement; world
On world still opening to the instructed mind
An unexhausted universe, and time
But adding to its glories. While the soul
Advancing ever to the Source of light
And all perfection, lives, adores, and reigns
In cloudless knowledge, purity, and bliss.

THE SHIP.

BY MRS. SEBA SMITH.

With graceful waist and carvings brave,

The trim hull waits the sea
And she proudly stoops to the crested wave,

While round go the cheerings three.
Her prow swells up from the yeasty deep,

Where it plunged in foam and spray :
And the glad waves, gathering round her, sweep

And buoy her in their play.
Thou wert nobly rear'd, O heart of oak!

In the sound of the ocean roar,
Where the surging wave o'er the rough rock

broke, „And bellow'd along the shore

And how wilt thou in the storm rejoico,

With the wind through spar and shroud, To hear a sound like the forest voice,

When the blast was raging loud!

With snow-white sail, and streamer gay,

She sits like an ocean-sprite, Careering on in her trackless way,

In sunshine or dark midnight:
Her course is laid with fearless skill,

For brave hearts man the helm ;
And the joyous winds her canvass fille

Shall the wave the stout ship whelm ?
On, on she goes, where the icebergs roll,

Like floating cities by ;
Where meteors flash by the northern pole,

And the merry dancers fly;
Where the glittering light is backward flung

From icy tower and dome,
And the frozen shrouds are gayly hung

With gems from the ocean foam.

On the Indian sea was her shadow cast,

As it lay, like molten gold, And her pendant, shroud, and towering mast,

Seem'd twice on the waters told.
The idle canvass slowly swung

As the spicy breeze went by,
And strange, rare music round her rung

From the palm-tree growing nigh.

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