that they were but men, singly, weak, and only strong as their people were loyal and free. For ages had they rode in pride, like evil planets along a cloudless sky, nor had they dropped the veins or stayed the lash, since the torch of liberty went out in Rome.

"But HE,"deposed the stars,

And called the radiance from their cars,
And filled the earth, from his deep throne
With lonely luster-all his own."

Napoleon exerted, moreover, an untold influence on the people. He showed them the strength of a free people, when they chose to unite under a bold, and favorite leader; but taught them in the end to beware how they broke their loyalty to their rightful prince, and gave to a daring usurper a favorable opportunity for seizing the helm of state, and guiding them whither they would

not.

But from the very fact that Bonaparte's career was great in its influence-breaking up the elements of society-mingling all in wild confusion; then learning them to re-arrange themselves-and also, that it was directed at once against the blind misrule of the people, and the wily and strong tyranny of the despot, we should naturally expect those results which constitute its real influence, to be good. For favoring neither extreme, the whole, single, and mighty tide of its tendency was in favor of that moderation which is right, and profitable in all things. In truth, Bonaparte opened the eyes of Europe, removed the obstacles to political advancement, and pointed out the way. Well did the poet say of him: "By gazing on thyself grown blind,

Thou taughst the rest to see."

"Thanks for that lesson, it will teach
To after warriors more

Than high philosophy can preach,

And vainly preached before.
That spell upon the minds of men
Breaks, never to unite again,

That led them to adore

Those pagod things of sabre sway,
With fronts of brass and feet of clay."

VOL. IV.

31

—P.—

242

THE ROBIN.

THE birds are sweet musicians-they form a charming band,
Whose merry notes are ringing to gladden all the land:
And yet of all the thousand strains, I love the Robin's best,
Because upon our poplar tree she always builds her nest.

Her voice is gay and cheerful, and all the summer long,
When I awake each morning, is ready with a song;
The overflowing melody of innocence and glee,

Is the music of the Robin who carols on the tree.

While she will sing, I'll never wish pianoforte to play:

The winter months seem far more drear, because she is away;
But every year when spring returns, this friend comes back to me,
To be my little neighbor, upon the poplar tree.

She sometimes gives a concert, upon a pleasant day,
Inviting Mrs. Phebe, the Yellow-bird and Jay ;
The Cuckoo and the Katydid, and other company,
To warble o'er together, their various harmony.

When dressing up their plumage, they hasten to the play-
I think it is quite time for me, "to drive dull care away;"
So, sitting in the window, the vocalists to see,

I listen to the serenade upon the poplar tree.

BEAUTY AND HARMONY.

AN ALLEGORY.

KATE,

THERE were many bright spirits that kept their watchful guard around the new-created Eden. To each, the Holy One assigned a separate charge,-to shield the consecrated spot from the intrusion of evil angels,-to breathe forth the cooling wind, along its shady paths and bowers,-to lead forth the happy pair to behold and admire the new world created for them, or to devise all, that in sight or sound, could please or refine their minds, that knew not yet, but of good. Of those, whose mission it was to fulfill the latter service, the chiefest and goodliest were two bright cherubs; the names they bore in heaven, unknown on earth. These, by the will of the Holy One, forsook not their charge, when driven forth from their happy seats, to wander down into the lower world, with the cherubim and flaming sword behind,

forbidding all return. They left their bright companions to return up on high, and they flew forth to fill the world, now darkened and defaced by sin, with the same enchantments that they had once delighted to gather around the lost Eden. To these then, turned the stricken fugitives, for the solace of the woes of exile; and they gave them names, to one, Beauty; to the other, Harmony.

And now went forth in light and gladness, the spirit of Beauty, with her many-voiced companion, the one to adorn the yet untrodden world of man, with all bright hues and shapes of surpassing excellence; the other to wake the concord of sweet sounds from all that God had made. First, Beauty began her task, to console the sorrow of the exiles, whose sins had driven them forth from the forfeited paradise, to wander, and to bear the wrath of heaven. She saw that the world, unlike the guarded Eden, was already beginning to put forth thorns and briars and noxious weeds; she looked around, but could no where find the flowers, whose bright hues and sweet odors had added so much to the charms of paradise; she could no where catch the glitter of the rich plumes of the birds that sung their morning and evening carol there; she could no where rest her weary eye upon the wide and waving ocean of green and delicate tinted foilage, that there overshadowed and beautified all; she looked upon the earth and the sky, but they had no smile to cheer the sad hearts of the fugitives. And she remembered with what joy and rapture the erring pair were accustomed to look upon the perfection of all these in the bright abode, which was theirs till they fell. But the one rash act of transgression was fast spreading the gloom and darkness, congenial to sin, over the fairest works of the Creator. And when the good spirit beheld all this, she was touched with pity for the lot of man, though himself had been the cause of his unhappy condition. She knew her charge from the Holy One, to attend and cheer the stricken exiles, and how could she better accomplish this than by restoring to nature its original brightness. True, she had not been gifted with power to make the world a second Eden, but she could impart many of its charms to the dreary waste, and by mingling her own gorgeous hues and delicate forms with the evil harvest of the curse that was now upspringing with rank and noxious luxuriance, she could make the earth a fit habitation for him who was only not equal with the angels.

And the fair spirit delayed not to hasten the accomplishment of her benignant purpose. She gave to the thistle a breath of perfume, and crimson coronal. At the touch of her wand, the brambles and thickets were hung with blossoms in gay festoons, and the thorn was crowned with the blushing rose. She lent her smile to the humble flower, that tremblingly put forth its

leaves to the gentle air of spring, and painted the bow of peace on the pathway of the cloud, that muffled the thunder in its bosom. She burnished the wings of the insect tribe, that sported by millions in the sunbeam, and gave a lordly mein to the proud birds, whose fiery eye quailed not in the noontide ray. She proclaimed with her gorgeous dyes, the coming of the king of day, and kindled with exceeding brightness the golden clouds, that burned around his setting car. She lighted up the surpassing brilliance of the starry night, she poured the light of her unnumbered hues upon the green earth, and the dark woods, upon the mountain's brow and the wave of ocean.

The lonely exiles gazed with wonder and delight; once more their sorrowing hearts revived to the thrill of joy. And by such faint indications of a more excellent glory, the fair spirit lead their earliest thought to rise, with an adoring sense of hope and love, to the throne of the Holy One, who is himself the perfection of all beauty.

Thus the world brightened and resumed its lost splendor, beneath the step of Beauty. Nor was Harmony less active in filling its wide expanse with the breath of all sweet sounds. She too, as well as her sister spirit, could not but mark the mournful contrast which the gloom and utter silence through all the region of man's exile, presented to the tones of sweetness which came borne upon every gale that waved the boughs of the trees, and curled the ripple on the crystal streams of Eden. She listened, but their came no echo of the sounds that had roused and enraptured there. The streams crept sluggishly on in dull leaden silence, and the winds were still, or only sighed in hallow dissonance to the hoarser dirge of the breaking waves. The birds had forgotten their notes of gladness, or were hushed in the universal fear of what might yet be the consequence of man's disobedience. And the many-voiced spirit could not endure, that such should be the abode of a being, though fallen, yet retaining so much of his primitive excellence, and exhibiting yet in his perfect form, the likeness of his Great Original. She knew that his ear had been delicately framed, to perceive, and long for, the nameless power that dwelleth in sweet sounds, and she feared that his heart would be sad, if deprived of a solace like this, on his lonely way through the desert world.

And Harmony went forth with such thoughts as these on her ministry of good, tuning into voice the viewless chords of Nature's harps that as yet were all unstrung, and breathing through the silent depths of the universe the kindling fervor of her own accordant spirit. She sung aloud and cheerily, at morn, in the freshening blast that brushed the dew from the sparkling lawn, and rolled the vapors in curling wreaths up the mountain's side, and spake with tones of eloquent sadness in the solemn wail of

the autumn wind, as it bore the murmur of falling leaves and sighed the dirge of the waning year. She made her home in the gentle breeze that called forth the wild-wood notes and waked the ancient forest's melodies, and she even tamed the storm to speak no longer in notes of unvaried dissonance. At the sight of her the groves broke forth in song, and the light air trembled with the sounding wings and myriad voices of living creatures, that sailed unseen through its clear, blue depths. She turned to gentle cadences the voice of the rill that murmured down the dizzy heights of the mountain, and joined its gayer notes in symphony with the measured swell of the river that rolled its waters through many lands. She haunted the cavern, the glen, the shores of the silent lake, with echoes; she swelled and combined the many thunders of the cataract into one awful hymn; and she made the numberless waves of the ocean all accord to utter forth music.

Again the hearts of the fugitives gladdened, for the bright and renovated world around them gave them hope that the time might come when they would think no more of the woes of exile. Already they began to feel that the evil of the curse was half removed; already they began to gaze with rapture on the fair and glorious things with which earth was filled; already they began to join their united voices in praising the one Great Father, with the deep and solemn anthem that nature hymned through all his works. They no longer thought the world would be cheerless and lonely to them; for the bright earth beneath, and blue heavens above, now seemed to them but one living temple, built by the hands of an omnipotent Architect, sustained by the pillars of the everlasting mountains, hung around with the gorgeous tapestry of sunset skies and starry nights, tuned to the sound of accordant symphonies and the rolling unison of voices sweet.

And thus was the mission of the bright spirits accomplished; and they returned up on high and were received with acceptance in the presence of the Holy One.

EPILEG OMENA.

READER, we beg pardon for 'cutting your acquaintance' for the last two meetings. We are very near-sighted, and unintentionally passed you without tipping our hats. We felt vexed and mortified; but if an early and hearty profession of good-will can, in any measure, atone for this thoughtless breach of civility, we vow by the College Laws, section by section, yea, we call to witness the manes of all the slaughtered victims of the French-not Revolution-but cook, that our inner eye has always been bent upon you, although our outer vision, dimmed by February fogs, failed to betray the customary signs of recognition. Allow us to present to you alphabeticè, our colleagues and ourselves.