He turned-what to the monarch then
Was splendidly revealed?
Rank upon rank--two million men,
Spread mountain, rock, and field:
Amazing host! before his eye
They marched arrayed for victory!
To conquer-not to yield!'
Ambition fired his ardent soul-

The world seemed laid 'neath his control!

That vast and valiant multitude

Owned none save him their lord;

Nations to him for safety sued,

Thrones trembled at his word:

He moved! shook earth and boundless deep;
He spoke and far as tempests sweep
His mighty voice was heard!

He fought! deep pestilence and blight
-Polluted long the field of fight!

Yet now, while gathering far and wide,
His legions shone to view;

A breath of woe o'er vaunting pride,
Its withering shadow threw:
O power! where are thy glories now?
Thy votaries own, with burning brow,
They're fleeting frail and few;
They find thy lustre, when most proud,
Is but the gilding on a cloud.

In light of youth, eager to bleed
For honours to be won;

Or pride of age and martial deed,

Victors of battle done;

They thronged around him, while one thought Into his brain like poison wrought,

He strove, in vain, to shun;

Like the destroyer's breath it came,

With chain and rack-with steel and flame.

Not one of all the breathing host,
That moment gladd'ning sea and coast,
Which godlike then might seem,
But would be mouldering in the grave
With worms or monsters of the wave!

And 'tis a thought the mind to sear,
In brightest days of life,
To lay the hopes we hold most dear
Bare to the torturer's knife:

It is a thought of bitter woe
To find with all we love below
Disease and death is rife !
To see the beauteous forms we prize
Fade day by day before our eyes.

The mighty monarch, in that hour

Of pageantry, descried

How transient was all human power,

How weak all human pride;

How poor the objects art may gild;

The

very rock on which we build

Our fame-how false, when tried!
His conscience, which so long had slept,
Reproved him and he wept!—he wept!

CHARLES SWAIN.

CXXXI.-OF SOUND AND ITS VELOCITY.

THUNDER, the most awful sound in nature, is generally imagined to be produced by the crashing, or striking together, of two bodies of air; for the rapidity with which lightning darts through the air causes a vacuum, and the separated bodies of air rushing impetuously together, produce that sudden report, or noise, which we call thunder. The same effect, only upon a smaller scale, is occasioned by setting fire to gunpowder. But gunpowder, dreadful and destructive as it is in air, when ignited in a vacuum, makes no more sound than the bell when struck by its clapper, in a similar situation.

The sounds produced by various metals differ widely as to their melody. The mixed metal of which bells are made, is more sonorific than brass or copper; and these are more musical than several other sonoriferous substances. Now, all sonorific bodies are elastic, which being struck, their parts are made to vibrate; while these vibrations

continue, correspondent ones are excited in the air, and these produce sound.

The doctrine is illustrated in the instances of bells and the strings or cords of musical instruments; for notwithstanding the vibrations of the bell are not visible, yet if light particles of dust be upon its outside when the bell is struck, and you perceive them move, their motion ought to be received as a proof that the particles of the metal also move, though their vibratory motion cannot be perceived by the naked eye:—and though the oscillation of a musical string continues some time after the sound ceases to be heard, yet it does not follow as a consequence that sound is not still produced, but only that it is not strong enough to excite a sensation in the ear. In a dark night you may see the flash of a gun, when the distance may be too great for you to hear the report. If, however, you knew that the light was occasioned by the letting off of a gun, you would conclude that it was attended with sound, though it was not strong enough to reach you.

The sound of the human voice, unassisted by any instrument, has been heard from New to Old Gibraltar, a distance rather exceeding ten miles; but the explosion or sound of hostile cannon has been heard 180, and even 200 miles from the place of action.

Sound is not, like lightning, conveyed instantaneously; it takes a certain time to pass through, or travel over, a given space. If you were a half mile distant from a party of soldiers, who, in performing the manual exercise, were firing at the word of command, you would. see the flash or smoke before you heard the report of the muskets; but if you afterwards went close up to them, you would see the one and hear the other at the same instant. The light of the flash and the report take place together. The former comes to the eye in an instant of time; the latter reaches the ear with the velocity with which sound travels. If, then, light travels faster than sound,-and if you are at any considerable distance from a gun discharged, you will see the flash before you hear the report.

Light travels at the amazing velocity of twelve millions of miles in a minute; its motion, therefore, in regard to a hundred yards, or as many miles, may be considered as instantaneous, seeing there would be no assignable difference of time to two observers, one of whom should be at the breech of the gun, and the other at fifty or a hundred miles from it; that distance being as nothing in comparison to twelve millions of miles.

Sound travels with the velocity only of about thirteen miles in a minute; therefore, as time is easily divisible into seconds, the space or distance that sounds in general pass through can be readily marked by a stop-watch; consequently, if three persons, situated, one close to a gun, when discharged, another half a mile from it, and the third at

one mile distant, they would all see the flash at the same instant, but would hear the report at different times.

A variety of experiments have been made with a view to ascertain the exact rate at which sounds pass through the air, and it is now generally agreed, that sound travels with a velocity equal to 1142 feet in a second of time; so that, if 1142 be multiplied by the number of seconds elapsed between the flash and the report, the product will be the exact distance, in feet, between the observer and the gun whence the flash proceeded.

By this easy rule, we can calculate the distance of a ship that has fired a gun at sea by night, either as a signal of distress or otherwise. Suppose, for instance, you saw the flash of a gun, and between that and the report thirty seconds had elapsed, by observation from a stop-watch, you would have to multiply 1142 by 30, and the product, 34,260, is the distance you are from the ship in feet; which by the rule of reduction, will be found to be six and a half miles nearly.

The distance you are from a thunder-storm can also be estimated by the same easy rule. But, as a stop-watch is an expensive article, possessed only by a few, it will be a gratification to our juvenile readers to be informed, that each carries constantly about his person what will answer the same purpose as one of those costly machines.

The pulse of a healthy young person, which may be felt the plainest at the wrist, generally beats seventy-five times in a minute, in which time sound travels thirteen miles; therefore, in round numbers, for every six pulsations a mile may be allowed; or 300 yards for a single pulsation.

Suppose, then, you see a flash of lightning, and between that and the thunder you count thirty pulsations, the distance will be found to be five miles; and this method of calculating it will be sufficiently accurate for all your purposes. SAMUEL MAUNDER.

CXXXII.-NOW AND THEN.

IN distant days of wild romance,
Of magic, myth, and fable;

When stones could argue, trees advance,
And brutes to talk were able;

When shrubs and flowers were said to preach,

And manage all the parts of speech;

'Twas then, no doubt, if 'twas at all,

(But doubts we need not mention),

That then and now, two adverbs small,
Engaged in sharp contention;
But how they made each other hear
Tradition doth not make appear.

Then, was a sprite of subtle frame,
With rainbow tints invested;
On clouds of dazzling light she came,
And stars her forehead crested;
Her sparkling eye of azure hue,

Seemed borrowed from the distant blue.

Now, rested on the solid earth,
And sober was her vesture;
She seldom either grief or mirth
Expressed by word or gesture;
Composed, sedate, and firm she stood,
And looked industrious, calm, and good.

Then sang a wild °fantastic song,
Light as the gale she flies on:
Still stretching, as she sailed along,
Towards the fair horizon;

Where clouds of radiance, fringed with gold
O'er hills of emerald beauty rolled.

Now, rarely raised her sober eye

To view that golden distance;

Nor let one idle minute fly

In hope of Then's assistance;

But still, with busy hands, she stood,
Intent on doing present good.

She ate the sweet but homely fare

That passing moments brought her; While Then, expecting dainties rare, Despised such bread and water: And waited for the fruits and flowers Of future, still receding hours.

Now, venturing once to ask her why,
She answered with invective;
And pointed, as she made reply,

Towards that long perspective
Of years to come, in distant blue,
Wherein she meant to live and do.