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CXXV. COLUMBUS.

1.

OW in the world did Columbus get over,
Is a pure wonder to me, I protest,
Cabot, and Raleigh too, that well-read rover,
Frobisher, Dampier, Drake and the rest.
Bad enough all the same,

For them that after came,
But, in great Heaven's name,
How he should ever think

That on the other brink

Of this wild waste terra firma should be,
Is a pure wonder, I must say, to me.

II.

How a man ever should hope to get thither,
E'en if he knew there was another side!
But to suppose he should come any whither,
Sailing straight on into chaos untried,
In spite of the motion,
Across the whole ocean,

To stick to the notion

That in some nook or bend

Of a sea without end,

He should find North and South America,
Was a pure madness, indeed I must say.

III.

What if wise men had, as far back as Ptolemy,

Judged that the earth like an orange was round, None of them ever said, "Come along, follow me; Sail to the West, and the East will be found." Many a day before

Ever they'd come ashore,

Sadder and wiser men

They'd have turned back again;

And that he did not, but did cross the sea,

Is a pure wonder, I must say to me.

Arthur Hugh Clough.

HE cold gray day clung shivering to the dreary hills,

TH

While o'er the valley still, night's rain-fringed curtain fell;

But waking Blue Eyes smiled, ""T is ever as God wills!
He knoweth best; and be it rain or shine, 't is well.
Praise God," said always little Claribel.

II.

Then sank she on her knees, with eager lifted hands ;
Her rosy lips made haste some dear request to tell ;
"O Father, smile and save this fairest of all lands,
And make her free, whatever hearts rebel.
Amen! Praise God," said little Claribel.

III.

And, Father," then arose another pleading prayer,
"O save my brother, mid the rain of shot and shell:
Let not the death bolt, with its horrid streaming hair,
Dash light from those sweet eyes I love so well!
Praise God," said trembling little Claribel.

IV.

"But, Father, grant that when the glorious fight is done, And up the crimson sky the shouts of freemen swell, Grant that there be no nobler victor 'neath the sun,

Than he whose golden hair I love so well.

Amen! Praise God," said little Claribel.

V.

When gray and dreary day shook hands with grayer night,

The heavy air was thrilled with clangor of a bell;

"O shout!" the herald cried, his worn eyes brimmed with light. "'T is victory! O what glorious news to tell!"

"Amen! Praise God!" cried little Claribel.

VI.

"And, herald, tell me, was my brother in the fight,
And in the fiery rain? O, fought he brave and well?"
"Dear child," the herald said, "there was no nobler sight
Than his young form, so grand mid shot and shell."
"Amen! Praise God!" sobbed little Claribel.

VII.

"And walks he now in victor's plumes of red,

While trumpets' golden throats his coming steps foretell?"
The herald dropped a tear. "Dear child," he softly said,
“Thy brother evermore with conquerors shall dwell."
"Praise God! He heard my prayer," said Claribel.

VIII.

"With conquerors, wearing crowns, and bearing palms," he said. A snow of sudden fear upon the rose lips fell.

“O sweetest herald, say my brother lives," she plead.
"Dear child, he walks with angels, who in strength excel;
Praise God, who gave this glory, Claribel.”

IX.

The cold gray day died sobbing on the weary hills,
While bitter mourning on the night wind rose and fell;
"O child," the herald said, "'t is as the dear Lord wills,
He knoweth best, and be it life or death, 't is well."
"Amen! Praise God !" wept little Claribel.

M. L. Parmelee.

Β'

CXXVII. — MORNING SOUNDS.

I.

UT who the melodies of morn can tell?

The wild brook, babbling down the mountain's side;

The lowing herd; the sheepfold's simple bell;

The pipe of early shepherd, dim descried

In the lone valley; echoing far and wide
The clamorous horn along the cliffs above;
The hollow murmur of the ocean-tide;
The hum of bees, the linnet's lay of love,
And the full choir that wakes the universal grove.

II.

The cottage curs at early pilgrim bark ;

Crowned with her pail the tripping milkmaid sings;
The whistling ploughman stalks afield; and, hark!
Down the rough slope the ponderous wagon rings ;
Through rustling corn the hare astonished springs;
Slow tolls the village clock the drowsy hour;
The partridge bursts away on whirring wings;
Deep mourns the turtle in sequestered bower,
And shrill lark carols from her aërial tower.

James Beattie.

CXXVIII.

MR

- AN APPEAL TO ARMS.

R. PRESIDENT: It is natural for man to indulge. in the illusions of hope. We are apt to shut our eyes against a painful truth, and listen to the song of that siren till she transforms us into beasts. Is this the part of wise men, engaged in a great and arduous struggle for liberty?

2. Are we disposed to be of the number of those who, having eyes, see not, and having ears, hear not, the things which so nearly concern their temporal salvation? For my part, whatever anguish of spirit it may cost, I am willing to know the whole truth; to know the worst, and to provide for it.

3. I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided; and that is the lamp of experience. I know of no way of judging of the future but by the past. And, judging by the past, I wish to know what there has been in the conduct of the British ministry for the last ten years, to justify those hopes with which gentlemen have been pleased to solace themselves and the house?

4. Is it that insidious smile with which our petition has been lately received? Trust it not, sir; it will prove a snare to your feet. Suffer not yourselves to be betrayed with a kiss. Ask yourselves how this gracious reception of our petition comports with those warlike preparations which cover our waters and darken our land.

5. Are fleets and armies necessary to a work of love and reconciliation? Have we shown ourselves so unwilling to be reconciled, that force must be called in to win back our love? Let us not deceive ourselves, sir. These are the implements of war and subjugation, the last arguments to which kings resort.

6. I ask gentlemen, sir, what means this martial array, if its purpose be not to force us to submission? Can gentlemen assign any other possible motive for it? Has Great Britain any enemy in this quarter of the world, to call for all this accumulation of navies and armies? No, sir, she has none. They are meant for us; they can be meant for no other.

7. They are sent over to bind and rivet upon us those chains which the British ministry have been so long forging. And what have we to oppose to them? Shall we try argument? Sir, we have been trying that for the last ten years. Have we anything new to offer upon the subject? Nothing. We have held the subject up in every light of which it is capable; but it has been all in vain.

8. Shall we resort to entreaty and humble supplication ? What terms shall we find, which have not been already exhausted? Let us not, I beseech you, sir, deceive ourselves longer. Sir, we have done everything that could be done, to avert the storm which is now coming on. We have petitioned, we have remonstrated, we have supplicated; we have prostrated ourselves before the throne, and have implored its interposition to arrest the tyrannical hands of the ministry and parliament.

9. Our petitions have been slighted; our remonstrances have produced additional violence and insult; our supplications have been disregarded; and we have been spurned, with contempt, from the foot of the throne. In vain, after these things, may we indulge the fond hope of peace and reconciliation. There is no longer any room for hope.

10. If we wish to be free; if we mean to preserve inviolate those inestimable privileges for which we have been