Lines of decay that mark our human race.
These are the murmuring waters, these the flowers
I mused o'er in my earlier, better hours,

Like sounds and scents of yesterday they come.
Long years have past since this was last my home!
And I am weak, and toil-worn is my frame;
But all this vale shuts in is still the same:
"Tis I alone am changed; they know me not:
I feel a stranger-or as one forgot.

The breeze that cooled my warm and youthful brow,
Breathes the same freshness on its wrinkles now.
The leaves that flung around me sun and shade,
While gazing idly on them, as they played,
Are holding yet their frolic in the air;
The motion, joy, and beauty still are there-
But not for me! I look upon the ground:
Myriads of happy faces throng me round,
Familiar to my eye; yet heart and mind
In vain would now the old communion find.
Ye were as living, conscious beings, then,
With whom I talked-but I have talked with men!
With uncheered sorrow, with cold hearts I've met;
Seen honest minds by hardened craft beset:
Seen hope cast down, turn deathly paie its glow;
Seen virtue rare, but more of virtue's show.

EVENING ODE,

Composed on an evening of extraordinary splendor and beauty.

HAD this effulgence disappeared

With flying haste, I might have sent
Among the speechless clouds, a look
Of blank astonishment;

But 'tis endued with power to stay,

And sanctify one closing day,
That frail Mortality may see,-
What is?—ah no, but what can be!

Time was when field and watery cove

With modulated echoes rang,

While choirs of fervent Angels sang
Their vespers in the grove;

Or ranged like stars along some sovereign height,
Warbled, for heaven above and earth below,
Strains suitable to both.-Such holy rite,
Methinks, if audibly repeated now

From hill or valley, could not move
Sublimer transport, purer love,

Than doth this silent spectacle-the gleam-
The shadow-and the peace supreme!

No sound is uttered,—but a deep
And solemn harmony pervades
The hollow vale from steep to steep,
And penetrates the glades.
Far-distant images draw nigh,
Called forth by wonderous potency
Of beamy radiance, that imbues
Whate'er it strikes, with gem-like hues!
In vision exquisitely clear,

Herds range along the mountain side;
And glistning antlers are described;
And gilded flocks appear.

Thine is the tranquil hour, purpureal Eve!
But long as god-like wish, or hope divine,
Informs my spirit, ne'er can I believe
That this magnificence is wholly thine!
-From worlds not quickened by the sun
A portion of the gift is won;

An intermingling of Heaven's pomp is spread
On ground which British shepherds tread!

And, if there be whom broken ties

Afflict, or injuries assail,

Yon hazy ridges to their eyes,

Presents a glorious scale,

Climbing suffused with sunny air,

To stop-no record hath told where!

And tempting fancy to ascend,

And with immortal Spirits blend!
-Wings at my shoulder seem to play;
But, rooted here, I stand and gaze

On those bright steps that heaven-ward raise
Their practicable way.

Come forth, ye drooping old men, look abroad
And see to what fair countries ye are bound!

And if some Traveler, weary of his road,
Hath slept since noon-tide on the grassy ground,
Ye Genii! to his covert speed;

And wake him with such gentle heed

As may attune his soul to meet the dower
Bestowed on this transcendent hour!

Such hues from their celestial Urn
Were wont to stream before my eye
Where'er it wandered in the morn
Of blissful infancy.

This glimpse of glory, why renewed?
Nay, rather speak with gratitude;
For, if a vestige of those gleams
Survived, 'twas only in my dreams.

Dread Power! whom peace and calmness serve
No less than Nature's threatening voice,
If aught unworthy be my choice,
From Thee if I would swerve,

Oh, let thy grace remind me of the light,
Full early lost, and fruitlessly deplored;
Which at this moment on my waking sight
Appears to shine; by miracle restored!
My soul though yet confined to earth,
Rejoices in a second birth;

Tis past, the visionary splendor fades,
And night approaches with her shades.

FREEDOM, AND THE MEANS OF ITS PRESERVATION.

FREEDOM, in every form, of every kind, is a transcendent privilege. Freedom of mind is a glorious gift. It is a blessing beyond all price, and beyond all power of language to express. We are ready to say that no man can surpass us, and that no man can instruct us, in the unutterable sense of its value. It is a good which nothing can transcend but the use of it. That dominion in the mind, that holy retreat from violence, oppression. and wrong; that place in the soul where freedom is, with its wide and boundless range of uncontrolled thoughts, with no power to govern in it but truth and right, with no presence to be worshiped but the presence of the divinity, it is the chosen dwelling-place of our most precious thoughts. But then, it is a 'holy place,' and to be en

tered with trembling. It is like the flaming Mount of old, glorious indeed, but sending out awful voices to warn the rash intruder. It is dangerous, because it is glorious. Freedom of mind, like every exalted trust, like lofty intellect, immense wealth, and vast dominion, should inspire a solicitude, care, and fidelity, proportionate to the magnitude of the trust. And so it is with the freedom of a people. Our sympathies are with it; they are with it far abroad in every land where its air is breathed, and its soil is moistened with the dews of heaven. We go along, in our enthusiasm, with those who have labored and suffered in its holy cause. Our hearts are with them, when they put on buckler and sword as its last defence. Our hearts are with them, when in the 'red field' they seal their devotion to it, in sacrifices of blood. But God forbid that what is so dearly bought, should be negligently kept. Let it be no matter of idle boast or vain parade. Let it not be celebrated with a merely childish and boisterous exultation. Those who have fought, should ponder. We cannot go along with panegyric and shout and holiday felicitations, without any consideration or sobriety. It does not become the dignity and manliness of free citizens, to look with idle admiration upon their institutions, as children do upon the show and glitter of a military parade, never considering the anarchy and distress to which it may easily be turned. These are 'childish things,' which it becomes a wise people to 'put away.' A free people must reflect, must understand their privileges, and must solemnly and virtuously resolve to preserve them, or in that fearful poise between good and evil where liberty places them, they will inevitably fall into evil, disorder, and destruction.

We would lay solemn charge upon the conscience of every voter at our elections. Let him remember that he is performing the first duty of a freeman, and that God and his country demand an honest and an unprejudiced suffrage. Let him remember that if he is governed by selfish interest and passion, if he gives up his individual judgment and conscience to a party, if he listens to the bribery of any personal fear or hope, he is forsworn and perjured at the very altar of liberty. He has sold his very birthright, and he ought to be the slave in form, that he makes himself in reality, and some other man, of nobler and freer soul, albeit compelled to bow before the throne of a despot, deserves his privilege.

We would address ourselves, if our words could reach

them, to men who are high in office. The inquiry often presses itself on our minds, and with unfeigned solicitude, whether the distinguished men in this country are looking with a sober sense of their duty and a deep feeling of their responsibility, to the great experiment, to which they are contributing so much to bring to a happy or a fatal issue. There may be those among them to whom all talk about their duties would pass for nothing better than cant. May God deliver this country from many such! If there ever were men to whom duty should be a serious word, who should tremble at their responsibility to God and men, they are the leading statesmen, orators, and teachers, whether religious or political, of this nation. If we could address them, we would say, 'No men ever enjoyed such an opportunity as is given to you, for accomplishing the best hopes of patriotism and philanthropy. Solon, Aristides, Demosthenes, the Fabii, Cato, and Cicero, had no such materials to work with as you have in the intelligence and virtue of this free people. To all human view, the last great experiment of republican freedom that is likely to be tried for ages, is passing under your guidance. The eyes of the world are upon you. Ages that have passed in the noble strife for liberty, ages of patriot tears and blood, call upon you, and unborn generations echo the call to you, to be faithful to the solemn trust. For God's sake, and for your country's, let us say, let us intreat you, hear the call. The happiness of one family is a sacred charge. What then must be the happiness of millions through unknown periods! With these multitudes, it is not too serious to say, you must yet bow low before the seat of Almighty justice. And then, when the dazzling world, with all its splendid honors, has passed away, one word of benediction from that throne of eternal truth and honor, shall be more than all the wreaths, the titles, the offices, the distinctions, that the world can heap upon you.'

In every view, indeed, that we can take of liberty and its institutions, we shall find that they press down upon the mass of the people as an individual trust; and if freedom is anything valuable, it must be by becoming an individual good. Liberty ordains no lofty titles, and builds no magnificent palaces for the exclusive possession of the few. It is a blessing for all, or it is no blessing. Its sole advantage consists in its permitting all to pursue their own good, their own happiness; and if they do not pursue it, of what avail is the