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Notices of New Works. 59-123-190-261-329-388-454-517- Troubadour's Song, the

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4 To My Sister Mary. By Win. H. Rhodes.
To Pyrrha. Horace 1-5.

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To Susan. Author of Fire-Light Musings. By Alton.
751 To Susan. By W. Gardner Blackwood.

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533 To the North Wind Rudely Blowing in May.
111 Trees.

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PUBLISHED MONTHLY AT FIVE DOLLARS PER ANNUM-JNO. R. THOMPSON, EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR.

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When lo! a monstrous form appear'd!
Haggard and grim-with dust besmear'd,
Striding along with giant strength,
Wielding a dart of fearful length.
Whilst clanging against his bony side,
A sheaf of kindred darts was tied,

A clond o'ercast the beaming skies!
The wild birds ceased their sportive cries;
The rippling waters changed their tone,
And seem'd in sympathy to moan.

Young Cupid writhed, as if in pain,
But he turn'd him over, and slept again;
The monster gasp'd as he laid him down,
And looked on love with a ghastly frown.
The boy's fresh cheek grew wan and pale,
And he dreamily utter'd a feeble wail;
All might have judged from his labor'd breath,
That the monster who lay by his side was Death,
Their scatter'd darts commingl'd lay

And sound was the slumber of Death that day-
The restless boy at length awoke
And fear drops from his forehead broke,
Yet he sprang to his feet and seized his bow,
As if in act a dart to throw.

And catching the arrows, with speed he fled
With a shout that might have roused the dead.
And soon Love tested his bow anew,
And found his weapon both strong and true;
But strange was the issue, and sad to tell,
Not Love, but Death, on those young hearts fell!

Grim Death now rose from his sleep profound,
And caught up the weapons that strew'd the ground.
The monster growl'd as he slowly awoke-
"Full many are waiting my final stroke."
He aim'd at the old man, with pain oppress'd,
And a soft flame wakes in his wither'd breast;
His wan lips quiver'd with feeble sighs,

VOL. XIV-1

And corpse lights gleam'd from his shrunken eyes;
But startled Death grew doubly grim,

When he found that such follies were wrought by him,
Tho' some of his darts bore the doom of Death,
There were others that quicken'd the failing breath,
And kindled Love's flame in the aged heart,

That ne'er should have felt such pleasing smart.

Time doth the truth of this wild legend prove, For young men die and old ones fall in love.

EDITORIAL GREETINGS,

FOR THE NEW YEAR.

Ac

It is a custom of the season, sanctioned by immemorial usage, to exchange gratulations among friends at the happy advent of another year. cordingly, we come forward, gentle reader, to greet you with many assurances of sincere good-will and many wishes for a prosperous future. Your Christmas, we trust, has passed "righte merrily" and your New-Year dawns with bright anguries of prospective success. How delightfully does this genial season come round in the cycle of time to recreate the mind and body, wearied with the engrossing pursuits of life-a pleasing interlude to the toils and cares of a hum-drum world-when the "light of other days" throws a cheering reflection upon the festivities of the present hour and swelling memories rise up to enhance its enjoyment. Long may it remain a period, consecrated to the finest emotions of the heart, long may its domestic re-unions be celebrated with joyous rite, though the days of the "yule log" and "wassail bowl" have passed away, and the bell of the masquer and the pomp of Twelfth Night are numbered with the faded and forgotten pageantries of the olden time.

But the recurrence of a New-Year is calculated to awaken other and sadder feelings. Mankind are so little disposed to meditation, that it is only at stated intervals, with the return of some anniversary in their calendar, or the completion of one of those spaces by which we estimate the flight of time, that they can be brought to think seriously on the past. Then it is that they are duly con

scious of the transitory nature of existence and inwardly indulge the unavailing regret of the poet,

"Eheu fugaces, Postume, Postume,
Labuntur anni."

"gladsome light" of letters, to forget not the Magazine, which has occupied in former times so honored a place in their affections. We appeal to the large number of educated men, who now bury in ignoble obscurity talents that should illustrate the literature of America, to withhold no longer their favor, but leaving the frivolous incidents of a day and looking rather to that enlarged dominion of

our land, to become efficient co-workers in so ennobling a cause. Finally, we address ourselves to the just sense of sectional pride which animates every true Southron, and beg that an union of effort may enable us to exhibit to our northern brethren worthy and enduring manifestations of mind,-to show them that Southern learning can think for itself and that we have among us intellects of glorious mould, and hearts that are "pregnant with celestial fire."

The birth-day is one of these occasions for sober thought with the individual, but the New-Year is the general birth-day of the human race. It is a knowledge which must, sooner or later, overspread proper time for universal introspection—a station where the train stops for an instant on the great railway of life, and we scan the distance we have traversed and the country beyond-a point where the heart, between the closing and the coming years, like the head of Janus, looks forward and behind. "No one," says Charles Lamb, "ever regarded the first of January with indifference. It is that from which all date their time, and count upon what is left." But we wish not to play the moralist. If we go on in this strain, our "sang" may at last turn out a "sermon," and some good Horatio will remind us, that it were indeed "to consider too curiously to consider so."

We see clearly the difficulties and responsibilities of our position. We know that there is work before us, that calls for untiring energy and devotedness of purpose. But we are assured by the liberal encouragement extended to our predecessors and shall toil on, looking forward to the "exceeding great reward" of seeing at last the rays of science and polite learning diffused throughout the wide borders of our Southern land, with the proud consciousness of having been an humble instrument in effecting that splendid result. For we have an abiding faith, that even in our own day, our people will direct their thoughts to objects far nobler than the mere arts of trade, and that Belles-Lettres, with its correlative branches, will flourish in all the pristine beauty of its Athenian existence.

With the Messenger, the first of January, as indicating the commencement of a new volume, is of course a landmark in its mission, a time for the balancing of old accounts and the formation of new plans. We should therefore say something to you, kind patrons, with regard to the intercourse so pleasantly begun between us. And first, let us tender our warmest thanks for the kindness and consideration we have met with, thus far in our career. We have been greatly encouraged by the friendly notices of the press and the incitements of many generous correspondents. Be assured that while we appreciate your favorable regard, we shall do all in our power to deserve its continuance We must be permitted, before concluding these and endeavor by untiring exertions in our arduous remarks, as an act of simple justice to ourselves, duties, to "win golden opinions from all sorts of to call attention to the large amount now due us people." The Messenger is now fairly "in its for unpaid subscriptions. Our monthly expenditeens." It has done much in its past history, how ture is heavy, and we submit to those indebted to much we need not remind you; we are determined us, that we should not be embarrassed on account it shall do more, with your assistance and support. of their remissness. We say this in no vain-glorious spirit. What the Messenger shall be-the good it may be able to accomplish-the softening influence it may exercise on faction-will not be our work. To our con

A word with regard to another topic and we have done. It will be perceived that we have gone back to the old title of our magazine-the "SOUTHERN LITERARY MESSENGER." This change tributors rather let the credit be assigned, through is not to be ascribed to any dislike for the prefix whose instrumentality we hope to make it always of "Western." So far from it, we are proud of useful and acceptable, to preserve in its maturer our extended circulation in the West and trust that age the lumen purpureum juventa, to render moral beauty ever fresh and radiant to the perception and to present

"Truth severe in fairy fiction dressed."

We invoke in our behalf the literary intelligence of the entire South. We ask all who have ever turned, as a relaxation, from severer duties to the

our beginnings in editorial life are approved there. But the recent name of our work was cumbrous. Besides, we have a weakness for old things, and we are induced to think that, of all others, that name will be most liked which is associated with the very inception of the work, with the early trials of its founder and with so much of its well-earned renown.

And now, gentle reader, A Happy New-Year!

VIEW FROM GRISWOLD HILL,

ON STATEN ISLAND, N. Y.

BY MRS. L. H. SIGOURNEY.

Earth, sea and sky,-in richest hues array'd,—
How spreads the glorious panorama round,—
As from the casement of a princely dome
We revel in its charms. From this bold height,
O'er wood-crown'd hill, and mountain thinly veil'd,
Villa and spire, and castellated roof,

How glide the soft beams of the westering sun
To sleep with ocean blue.

Here, at our side

Frowns Fort Knyphausen, o'er whose ruin'd base
Close-woven cedars stretch their arras dark,
Hiding the bastions, whence in olden time,
The whisker'd Hessian, bought with British gold,
Aim'd at my Country's heart.

With fairy grace,
New-Jersey's shores expand. Hillock and grove,
Hamlet and town, and lithe promontory,
Engird this islet, as a mother clasps

The commerce of the world. The mother-realm
Sends on its tide her daily embassies,
While France invokes the potency of steam,
To wing her message. From his ice-clad pines
The Scandinavian-the grave, turbaned Turk,
The Greek mercurial, even the hermit-sons
Of sage Confucius, like the sea-bird, spread
Their pinions toward this city of the West,
That like a money-changer for the earth
Sits in her temple-dome. Yon ocean-gate,
With telegraphic touch, doth chronicle
The rushing tide of sea-worn emigrants,
Sick, sad, or famished. With what anxious eyes
They scan the coast, that gives the stranger bread,,
Perchance, a grave. And he, who ventureth forth
The willing prisoner of some white-winged ship,
Leaving his native land, perchance, to seek
Hygeia o'er the wave, perchance, to test
What spells do linger round the classic climes
That woke his boyhood's dream,-how fails his
heart

As the strong hills of Never-Sink withdraw
Their misty guardianship. Speech may not tell,—
For well I know its poverty to paint

The rapture, when the homeward glance descries

A beauteous daughter. But the opposing straits, With patriot love, that clime, whose novelties, With their deep line of indentation, bar

Whose forms of unimagined life, eclipse

The full embrace. Broad spreads the billowy bay, The worn-out wonders of an Older World

Forever peopled by the gliding sail,

From the slight speck where the rude fisher toils,
To that, which, like a mountain, treads the wave,—
Or those, that mov'd by latent fires, compel
The awe-struck flood.

See,-from its northern home
The bold, unswerving Hudson, that hath burst
The barrier of his palisades, to gaze
On all this wondrous beauty, and to swell
With lordly tribute, what it views with pride.
Behold the peerless city, lifting high

Its hundred spires and edg'd with bristling masts,
In whose strong breast beat half a million hearts
Instinet with hurrying life. The grey-hair'd man
Remembereth well, how the dank waters crept
Where now, in queenly pomp, her court she holds.
Next, gleams the Isle, where lengthen'd line of

coast

Is lov'd by Ceres, and where varying swells
The rural landscape. On its western height
A noble city towers, and 'neath its wing
One, whose pure domes are wrapp'd in hallow'd
shades,

Silent, yet populous, and through whose gates
Press on the unreturning denizens.

Oh Greenwood! loveliest spot for last repose,
When the worn pilgrimage of life is o'er,
Even thy dim outline, through the haze, is dear.

Onward, by Coney Island's silvery reef

To where between its lowly valves of sand

That ever, with its ghostly finger, points
To things that were.

Oh great and solemn Deep!-
Profound enchanter of the musing thought,
Release my strain, that to this beauteous Isle
So long a visitant, my thanks may flow,
Warm, though inadequate. Autumnal tints
Float in full brilliance over copse and grove,
Where erst the Red Man rested on his bow,
Wrapp'd in brief reverie, 'mid the haunts he lov'd,
But whence his exil'd feet so soon must part,
Leaving no trace behind.

Still, lingering flowers,
The resonance of summer, cheer the nooks,
Where the sun longest smiles. Thou fairest Isle
Of all my feet hath trodden,-purest gem
Amid the sparkling waters of the bay,-
I grieve to say farewell. And for the sake
Of those I love, and for the memories sweet,
And sacred hospitalities, that cling
Around the mansion whence my steps depart,—
Peace be within thy palace homes, that crest
Each sea girt hill, and 'neath the humblest roofs
That nestle 'mid thy dells: and when I dream
Of some blest Eden that surviv'd the fall,-
That dream shall be of thee.

The Indian name for Staten Island was Monacnong, or Enchanted Woods, signifying admiration of its delightful

Opes the highway of nations. Through it, pours' forest scenery.

NATIONAL OBSERVATORY.

Addressed to the Hon. John Quincy Adams.

WASHINGTON, Nov. 17th, 1847.

cause. The disturbance was far beyond the reach of the unaided eye; and was unknown to telescopic vision. But there were Astronomers living who, for the first time, undertook to invest mathematical analysis with the space-penetrating power of the telescope. They succeeded in the bold attempt, and from the

Dear Sir,-You did me the honor yesterday to ask that I would give a written description of the Observatory, with other information relating there-closet pointed the observer's telescope to the locus

to, including an explanation of the object and uses of the different instruments.

I need not speak of the pleasure it gives me to comply with your request; the only alloy to this pleasure is found in the circumstance that I have not the leisure, and if the leisure, not the ability to make the answer as full or as satisfactory as I would have it.

Your efforts to advance in America the cause of practical Astronomy, are known to the world. The lively interest which you continue to manifest in all that concerns the Observatory, causes you to be considered as one of its most active and zealous friends. It is proud of the relation. It feels honored, and is encouraged by every additional proof of the interest felt by you in its pursuits and for its prosperity.

As a subject for congratulation with one who has borne so conspicious a part in establishing a Naval and National Observatory in this country, permit me to call your attention to the interest, which, since the establishment by the government of such an Institution, has commenced to manifest itself in the public mind in the cause of practical Astronomy.

The Act of Congress founding this establishment, was passed in 1842. Since that time public meetings have been held, plans matured, and subscriptions proposed in various parts of the country for establishing Observatories. It is not hazarding too much to say that within the last five or six years, more has been done in the United States to encourage and advance Astronomical science, and that more has been added to the general stock of such knowledge, than during the whole period of our previous existence, either as a nation or a people; and in this fact, the friends of the science do but recognize the first fruits of the seeds that were cast by you many years ago.

of the stranger. The circumstances connected with the discovery of the planet Neptune are alone sufficient to stamp the age in which we live, as a remarkable era in the progress of Astronomy. So too with regard to Struve's "Stellar Astronomy" and Mädler's “Central Sun.”* This object or point, invisible though it be, and incorporeal though it may be, has been made to "tremble on the verge of analysis." These illustrious savans, with a degree of probability and a force of reasoning, that have every where arrested the attention of Astronomers and challenged the respect of Mathematicians, have shown that the sun, moon and planets, with their train of satellites and comets, are in motion as a unit, if I may be allowed the figure, about some grand centre poised in the remote regions of space; and situated in the direction of the Pliades towards the star Alcyone. Perhaps this point is also the "Central Sun" about which the suns of a thousand other systems hold their way. Our luminary, with its splendid retinue, is computed to revolve about this centre at a rate of not less than thirty millions of miles in a year; yet so remote is it that many millions of our years are required for the completion of one revolution. Here then, indeed, is an "annus magnus" of vast import. In the contemplation of it, may we not regard those comets which dash through our system, never to return, as lights sent from other systems to guide us on our way? Or at least may we not feel assured that they answer wise and useful purposes in the great economy?

I might point to other triumphs of mind over matter, in illustration of the length of line which Astronomers and Mathematicians are casting out, to fathom and explore the regions of space.

Pingre's comet is just now about to make its appearance for the third recorded time, to the inhabi. tants of the earth. On the occasion of each of its former visits, it carried terror and dismay to the minds of Kings and Princes. In 1264, it was regarded as a messenger charged with the execution of sentence of death upon Pope Urban IV.

There never has been, in the history of Astronomy, a period of so much activity and energy as the present. Within the last two years, the names of four new members have been added to the list of planets. Within this time the world has been At its next return, the Emperor Charles V. of astonished, and the mightiest intellects in it have Spain, wrote of it, "His ergo indiceis me mea fala considered with admiration the feats that have been vocant." It is said that he resigned his crown to performed by men engaged in Astronomical pur-prepare for the dread summons.

suits. The most remote planet known to the sys- It has now been gone for another period of near tem, was subject to perturbations from an unknown three hundred years, and is soon to come back pro

Since this was written another planet has been discovered. Flora is its name, and it is the 8th in the family of Astroids.

* Sir John Herschel's Cape Observations is another of those great works which mark the progress of, and stamp the spirit of the age upon, Astronomical pursuits.

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