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From Macmillan's Magazine. Hath some sore sickness thus thy frame opALL'S WELL.
Or sinkest thou for want of food and rest?
“ All's well-I am at home; but make my bed Each hour more calm bis labored breathings soon, grow.
For I am weary, mother, and fain would lay mo "O God! may he awaken free from ill;
down.” May this supreme repose dear life renew!”
Even while he spake, lie tottered, fell; She rose and to the casement came,
The heavy lid reluctantly The curtain drew, and blank, gray morn
Shrouded the glazing, love-strained eye. Looked pitiless on eyes grief-worn,
They tenderly raised him ; who may tell, On the dying lamp's rcd, flickering flame,
What anguish theirs? That smothered cry! And, slowly through the wavering gloom
They bore him up the narrow stair; Searching out the shaded room,
They laid him on bis bed with care ; Fell on a form—the pillowed head
On snowy pillow,--flower-besprent So motionless, supinely laid.
(Ah! for lighter slumber mcant). Oh, was it death, or trance, or sleep,
They knew some pestilential blight Had power his sense thus locked to keep ?
Lurked in his blood with deadly might, She turned, that woman wan and mild ;
And they trembled for the morrow.. She gazed through tears, yet hope-beguiled ;
Thus in the smitten house that night,
All joy was changed to sorrow.
Yea, swift and near, the fever-fiend
Had dogged the mariner's homeward way.
One ocean south, one ocean north, Fever-chained, unconscious lio;
The ship from red Lymoon sailed forth, Many a day passed heavily,
But fast in her hold the dark curse lay; Since met, in glad expectancy
In vain blew the cool west wind.
Week after week, he now, in vain,
Had breathed his pleasant native air ;
For still with restless, burning brain, Tho fathicr's careful brow unbent,
He seemed to toss on a fiery main,
'Neath a sky of copper glare. The mother happily intent
Under his window a sweetbricr grew,
And fragrance his boylioud full well knew,
In at the open lattice flung;
The thrush in his own old pear-tree sung. Longed, curious, to look upon
Young voices from the distance borne,
Or mower's scythe at dewy morn,
Cock's shrill crowing, all around
Sweet, familiar scent or sound,
None could bring his spirit peace;
None from wandering dreams release.
He heard an angry surf still thunder, And merry twinkling eyo of blue,
Crashing planks beneath him sunder, Whose tones were musical with joy ?
Tumults that, ever changing, never cease. For he had sailed all round the world,
Look, look! what glides and glitters in the In China's scas our flag unfurled,
brake? On Borneo's coast with pirates fought,
Is it a panther, or green-crested snake ? From famed spicc-islands treasure brought, All cursed Malay-I sce his crucl cye; Had been where the Upas grew!
His hissing arrows pierce me ? Must I'lie, But the long June day was closing fast, Weltering in torture on this hell-hot brine; And yet lie did not come;
Not one cool drop my parching throat to slake?
Yet over his mother's yearning gaze,
Saintly sad, was on him dwelling;
Could it not penetrate the haze
Of fantasy, and, frenzy-quelling
In heart and brain, soft-hcaling flow?
And, bending o'er the sufferer's bed,
Lightly laid her smooth, cold palm To his inother's fond caress.
Upon the throbbing brow;
And with the touch a gradual calm “But how is this ? dcar son, thy lips are pale ; Stole quietly, diffusing slow And thy brow burneth, and thy speech doth Sleep's anguish-sJothing balm. fail.
Pain's iron links, a little whilo
Relaxing, let his spirit rove
Or carcless whistler passing nearIn vision some Atlantic isle,
May, unaware, pierce the dull car, Where waved the tall Areca palm;
And feeble, mystic wonder wako, Fresh breczes fanned, and gushing rills And straight the web of fancy break; Murmured, as in green English grove
The awful presence over all They, winding, deepen from the hills.
Hovering unseen a brooding pall. And momentary smiled, perchance,
Oh, look! what change is there? can hope reDear faces thro' the shadowy trance,
vive? His unclosed eye saw not, though near ; Lift his head gently, give him airDear voices reached the spell-bound car,
As drive His waking sense had failed to hear.
Strong winds through a thunder-cloud, and Only a little space-too soon
shear The fiery scourge from slumber burst,
Athwart, on either side, its blackness, Swept like the tyrannous typhoon,
Sweeping the cmpyrean clcar ; Gathering new rage, the last the worst;
So, from the stony visage rent, Till the pulse ebbed low, and life
Instantaneously withdrew Shrank wasted from tho strife.
The hcaviness, the livid lue; At length a dreamless stapor deep
And the inward spirit shining through, Fell on him, liker death than sleep.
Serene, ethereal brightness lent. At eve the grave physician said :
His eyes unclosed ; their gaze intent “ No more availeth human aid ;
No narrow, stifling limits saw, Nature will thus his powers restore,
No aspects blanched by love and aweOr else ho sleeps to wake no more."
Far, far on the eternal bent. Alone his mother watched all night,
Hark! from his lips the scamen's chcer, In silent agony of prayer.
Sudden, deep-thrilling, did they hear,
“ Land ahead!” The words of welcome rose; When dimly gleamed the dawning light,
Then he sank back in isolate repose.
What land? Oh, say, thou tempest-tost !
Seest thou thine own dear native coast None who have seen that leaden mask
Vision by strong desiro uplifted Orer loved features grayly spread,
Britain's white cliffs afar appearing; “Whose superscription this ?” need ask. Or art thou not, full surely, nearing Soft she unclosed the door, and said,
That unknown strand, that furthest shore, “Come,” in wliisper hoarse and low;
Whence wanderer never saileth more? And silently they came,
But hush! again ho speaks witli steadfast tone, One by one, the same
“ Let go the anchor.” Now, the port is won. Who had joyous met by the hcarth below, O happy mariner! at last, Only thrcc short weeks ago.
Ocean storms and perils past, They looked, “ Is it lifo, or death?”
Past treacherous rock and shelving shoal, She beckoned them in, and, with hushed breath And the ravening breakers' roll, Standing around, thcy saw dismayed
Securely moored in haven blest, That living soul already laid
Thy weary soul hath found its rest, The shadow of the grave beneath.
Touching now the golden strand ! Kneeling beside liis hope, his prido,
Before the lies the promised land, Felled in youth's prime, his sca-worn son,
To thy raptured cyes revealed Alond the reverend father criod :
(Eyes on earth forever scaled). “Submissive Lord, we bow; Thy will be done; Eternity's reflected splendor Yct grant some token cre my child depart,
Transfigureth the hollow brow Thy love hath ever dwelt within his heart,
And the shattered hull must render, And through the vale of darkness safe will guide.” Landed, the free spirit now. “ Amen, amen,” in faltering response sighed
Wayfarers we, on a homeless sca, Motlier and children, watchers woe-begone.
Bid'thee not return, delay; Oh, mournful vigils, lingering long !
But oh! one word of parting say! Oh, agonies of hope, that wrong
Sweet, solemn, full, those final accents fell, Solemn prayer for swift release, And the soul's cternal peaco !
Pledgo of undying peaco: lo spako,
well.” Now holy calm, now wild desire
Yea, all is well ; that last adieu
Opencd Paradise to view;
While, on tremulous passing sigh,
The happy spirit floaicel by. The mind flows back; as in a dream
O'er mourning licarts in anguisha lushed,
EMuence ecstatic gusheil ;
They saw licaven's galtes of pearl unfold
Paven courts of purest gold, Haply some sudden sound without
The glorious city on a lieight A slieep-dog's bark, or schoolboy's shout, Lost in distances of light;
. FROM THE GERMAN.
Heard angelic harpings sweet,
They fly from both when fly they can,
As neither being fit for man-
On the City of Extremity!
O dear-loved friends, do not forget,
The world has truc and good things yet, Transport sinking down to pain ;
Though all is base and counterfeit
In the City of remity!
Still, still the larks at heaven's gate sing,
Still flowers beside the streamlet spring, Sweet, faint echoes, never dying,
Unlike their ghastly blossoming
In the City of Extremity!
H. L. Keep young and old in cheerful strain,
Unlike the harrowing hurricane
Of the City of Extremity!
Come forth, then from this frightful town,
Ere a new deluge come to drown
The City of Extremity !
- Chambers's Journal.
THE TWO LAMENTS.
OVER a new-filled grave a maiden tender,
Planted with tears and prayer a poplar slender, In the City of Extremity!
“Grow, grow, fair tree,” she said,
“Lift to the stars thy head, Horse nature, too, as sorely worn,
Where dwells unseen my love;
Rise, ever rise above!
“Let every branch aspire, Miles off, you see the smoke arise
As do my arms, mine eyes, Of these two millions' sacrifice,
Till with my soul's desire, And hear the roaring agonies
Thy sammit, mounting higher, Of the City of Extremity!
Be hidden in the skies.
O poplar! on this dear mound ever show
A faithful emblem of my love and woe.”
Over a new-made grave a lover. bending,
A willow planted, every leaf down-tending, There labor is a deadly fight,
Droop low to weep," he said,
“ Above my blue-eyed maid: From which, at best, you snatch a bitcm
Sad tree, still earthward bow,
As doth my spirit now.
“Droop till thy verdant tresses And would a better course pursue,
The hallowed cold turf sweep, Did fancied Fate not bind them to
Mingling their light caresses The City of Extremity!
With these my fond lip presses,
Where my beloved doth sleep. They loathe the place they do it in,
O willow! on this dear mound shalt thou grow, Plunged, amid dirt and smoke and din, A faithful emblem of my love and woe." Polluted air, disease, and sin,
H. L. In the City of Extremity!
No. 845.-11 August, 1860.
1. The Four Georges: George the First,
Mr. Thackeray, 2. Concerning the Dignity of Dulness,
Fraser's Magazine, 3. The Fair at Keady,
Macmillan's Magazine, 4. Ho! For the North Pole,
N. Y. Evening Post, 5. Edmond About,
National Review, 6. Claremont, and the Princess Charlotte. Part 2, Eclectic, 7. Lady Morgan,
New Monthly Magazine, 8. Found at Sea,
Dublin University Magazine, 9. Memorials of Thomas Hood,
Spectator, 10. Angling at Home and Abroad,
PAGE. 323 335 345 351 357 369 374 377 380 383
POETRY.—The Happy Valley, 322.
SHORT ARTICLES.- Mammoth Cave in Missouri, 334. The Farallones, 344. Return of the Jews to Palestine, 350. Generosity of G. P. R. James, 356. Matrimonial Union of Prince Peter of Arenberg, 376. Mahomedan Funerals, 376. Dumas Robbing Garibaldi, 379. A Celtic Dictionary, 384.
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY BY LITTELL, SON, & CO., BOSTON.
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THE HAPPY VALLEY.
Its wayward longings, passionate regrets,
And the vast heap of Heaven's forgotten A SLOPING path between th' autumnal woods,
id debts Where the pines breath'd an echo of far floods, God! may we meet where no tear falls, joy Led to a bank from which the ripe fern shook Its speckled plumage o'cr the winding brook. I sat and list’ned in a sunny nook, While at my feet the dead-ripe applo fell. It will not matter then who lov'd in vain, 1.52 Lifting mine eyes from off an olden book
Who for the wrong love cast away the true; To wait cach cadence of the clear sheep-bell, How cach man wrought his robe of scorching That dropp'd in rills of music down the sombre
Seeking the phantom bliss he never knew-
We and our own sit by the crystal stream,
And watch our fitful life rise to our view, Of sunset, as beside the monarch's bed Peopled with idol-shapes, a ghastly dream, Soft ev'ning wept, and on her own pure breast When Truth's eternal mountains grandly round Pillow'd ʼmid rosy light his dying head.
us gleam. A solitary blackbird, while day fled, Sounded his golden whistle from the thorn, Her thin white arms the ghostlike mist out- Who has not mark'd upon some careworny spread,
face The nut-brown partridge whirr'd along the The mem’ry of a better earlier day, corn,
Something divine which sin might not efface, While peep'd above the trees the young moon's A shred of beauty which would not decay ? iv'ry horn.
Who has not long'd to win such soul to pray, To charm across those features stern and wilá (Where, like the lightning, stormy passions play)
66 I sat and list'ned; for such mystic sceno Of earthly rest I ne'er had dreamt before,
The touching love-look of the little child, And much I marvell’d if what here had been, Ere home had lost its light, or guilt the soul
Or hast thou pac'd within some ruin'd fane, The same, and not the same wo lov'd of
Where at thy feet the saintly dead have slept, Stamp'd with the signet of its God anew,
And the night-wind awoke such touching pain, When mortal sin and grief had past for aye from
As if an angel in the moonlight wept-
While the true ivy round the cloister crept,
And o'er their grave a green memorial kept In somo such nook I pray'd my home might Of those her scholars who, long dead and be,
gono, With all I ever lov'd in olden timo;
Taught Art the smile of Truth, and breath'd Dwelling in love, a sinless company,
Life into stone. Among such scenes to build a nobler rhyme, To tuno the viewlcss wires to strains sublime ! Oh! blessed rest, to ccaso not day or night, I, too, feel some such yearning wish to cry on That wondrous song, while th' everlasting
To earth in all her ruin'd loveliness : chime
The Lord forgives thy sin, thou shalt not die Pealing across each vale and gleamy height, Hope on amid thy shame and drearinessProclaims th' eternal sabbath of tho realms of Clasp his dear feet in thy strong lovo's calight.
He will not shrink from thy pollated touch-
Soon o'er thy brow a glorious Hope shall And lose amid the restlessness of earth,
Aush, With the soft pleading glances of a dove,
Forgiven many sins, because she loved much." May whisper of the angels' sinless mirth,
ALAN BRODRICK. Unfold the drama of this human birth,
-Dublin University Magazine.