Romany girl whom the poet loves and ultimately marries; and she, in defending herself against the murderous attack of a rejected Gipsy lover, becomes the unwitting agent of her assailant's death, and thereby incurs the terrible tribal vengeance of the Gipsies. She disappears mysteriously after her marriage, and then it is that the half-frenzied husband, driven forth by his anguish into the whited wilderness of the Snow Mountains, finds in place of Nature Benigna, serene of brow and starry of eye, a harpy 'red in tooth and claw The Lady of the Hills with crimes, untold Followed my feet with azure eyes of prey; 66 And if a footprint shone at break of day, My flesh would quail, but straight my soul would say, 'Tis her whose hand God's mightier hand doth hold." I trod her snow-bridge, for the moon was bright. Her icicle-arch across the sheer crevasse, When lo! she stood! pass, God made her let me Then felled the bridge! ... Oh, there, in sallow light, There down the chasm, I saw her cruel, white, This Blake-like picture marks the crisis but not the close of the drama, for step by step, we are led from the foot of the precipice of despair to the shining summit of hope, where the sad-eyed but beautiful and benignant Mother waits to greet her child again – What power is this? What witchery wins my feet To peaks so sheer they scorn the cloaking snow, All silent as the emerald gulfs below, Down whose ice-walls the wings of twilight beat? sweet most wild, most What answering pulse that all the senses know, The ballad of God's Revenge is a masterly bit of diablerie; but such a verse as the following, which the poet puts into the mouth of Raleigh—and there are several of exactly the same kind - leaves one quite unstirred Wherever billows foam, The Briton fights at home; Blue and green; water There's not a wave of ocean Our own England Queen. SHELLEY. In Christ's own town did fools of old condemn A sinless maid to burn in felon's fire; She looked above; she spake from out the pyre When, lo! the flames touching her garment's hem Brothers in Shelley, we this morn are strong: Our Heart of Hearts hath conquered-conquered those Once fain to work the world and Shelley wrong; AYLAND, FRANCIS, an American educator; born at New York, March 11, 1796; died at Providence, R. I., September 30, 1865. He was graduated from Union College in 1813, and studied medicine, but soon after pursued a theological course at Andover. After a four years' tutorship at Union College, and a pastorate in Boston, he was elected, in 1826, Professor of Mathematics and Natural History at Union, and the next year assumed the presidency of Brown University, retiring, after twenty-eight years of service, to a pastorate in Providence. He published Elements of Moral Science (1835); Elements of Political Economy (1837); Limitations of Human Reason (1840); Thoughts on the Collegiate System in the United States (1842), recommending a modernization of the old curriculum; Christianity and Slavery (1845); Life of Adoniram Judson (1853); Intellectual Philosophy (1854); Letters on the Ministry (1863), also occasional sermons and addresses. The following selection is from a sermon commemorating Nicholas Brown, after whom Brown University was named: LIVING WORTHILY. As the stranger stands beneath the dome of St. Paul's, or treads, with religious awe, the silent aisles of West minster Abbey, the sentiment which is breathed in every object around him is the utter emptiness of sublunary glory. The most magnificent nation that the world has ever seen has here exhausted every effort to render illustrious her sons who have done worthily. The fine arts, obedient to private affection or public gratitude, have embodied, in every form, the finest conceptions of which their age was capable. In years long gone by, each one of these monuments has been watered by the tears of the widow, the orphan, or the patriot. But generations have passed away, and mourners and mourned have sunk together into forgetfulness. The aged crone, or the smoothtongued beadle, as now he hurries you through aisle and chapel, utters with measured cadence and unmeaning tone, for the thousandth time, the name and lineage of the once honored dead; and then gladly dismisses you, to repeat again his well-conned lesson to another group of idle passers-by. Such, in its most august form, is all the immortality that matter can confer. Impressive and venerable though it be, it is the impressiveness of a solemn and mortifying failure. It is by what we ourselves have done, and not by what others have done for us, that we shall be remembered by after ages. It is by thought that has aroused my intellect from its slumbers, which has "given lustre to virtue, and dignity to truth," or by those examples which have inflamed my soul with the love of goodness, and not by means of sculptured marble, that I hold communion with Shakespeare and Milton, with Johnson and Burke, with Howard and Wilberforce. It is then obvious, that if we desire to live worthily, if we wish to fulfil the great purposes for which we were created, we must leave the record of our existence inscribed on the ever-during spirit. The impression there can never be effaced. "Time, which obliterates nations and the record of their existence," only renders the lineaments which we trace on mind deeper and more legible. From the very principles of our social nature, moral and intellectual character multiplies indefinitely its own likeness. This, then, is the appropriate field of labor for the immortal and ever-growing soul. I know that the power thus given to us is frequently abused. I am aware that the most gifted intellect has frequently been prostituted to the dissemination of error, and that the highest capacity for action has been devoted to the perpetration of wrong. It is melancholy beyond. expression to behold an immortal spirit, by precept and example, urging forward its fellows to rebellion against God. But it is some alleviation to the pain of such a contemplation to remember that in the constitution of our nature a limit has been fixed to the triumph of evil. Falsity in theory is everywhere confronted by the facts. which present themselves to every man's observation. A lie has not power to change the ordinances of God. Every day discloses its utter worthlessness, until it fades away from our recollection, and is numbered among the things that were. The indissoluble connection which our Creator has established between vice and misery tends also continually to arrest the progress of evil, and to render odious whatever would render evil attractive. The conscience of man himself, when once the storm of passion has subsided, stamps it with moral disapprobation. The remorse of his own bosom forbids him to reveal to another his own atrocious principles. The innate affections of the heart teach us to shield those whom we love from the contaminations of vice. Hence, the effect of wicked example and of impure conceptions, meeting with ceaseless resistance in the social and moral impulsions of the soul, becomes from age to age less apparent. Men are willing that such examples should be forgotten, and they sink into oblivion. Thus is it that, in the words of inspiration, "the memory of the just is blessed, but the name of the wicked shall rot." It is then manifest that we accomplish the highest purposes of our existence, not merely by exerting the power which God has given us upon the spirit of man, but by exerting that power for the purpose of promoting his happiness and confirming his virtue.- Discourse in Brown University, November 3, 1841. THE PHILOSOPHY OF ANALOGY. You observe that I speak of the science of analogy as something which is yet to be. It does not now exist, but |