The sun goes down, the stars come out ;
He maketh darkness, and 'tis night;
Then roam the beasts of prey about,
The desert rings with chase and flight:
The lion and the lion's brood,

Look up, and God provides them food.

Morn dawns far east; ere long, the sun
Warms the glad nations with his beams;
Day, in their dens, the spoilers shun,

And night returns to them in dreams:
Man from his couch of labour goes,
Till evening brings again repose.

How manifold thy works, O Lord,

In wisdom, power, and goodness wrought! The earth is with thy riches stor❜d, And ocean with thy wonders fraught: Unfathom'd caves beneath the deep For Thee their hidden treasures keep.

There go the ships, with sails unfurl'd,
By Thee directed on their way;
There, in his own mysterious world,
Leviathan delights to play;

And tribes that range immensity,
Unknown to man, are known to Thee

By Thee alone, the living live;

Hide but thy face, their comforts fly;
They gather what thy seasons give;

Take Thou away their breath, they die :
Send forth thy Spirit from above,
And all is life again, and love.

Joy in his works, Jehovah takes,
Yet to destruction they return;
He looks upon the earth, it quakes;
Touches the mountains, and they burn:
Thou God for ever art the same;
I AM, is thine unchanging name.

ON THE LONGEST DAY.

Addressed to Laura.

BY

WORDSWORTH.

LET us quit this leafy arbour,

And the torrent murmuring by;
Sol has dropp'd into his harbour,

Weary of the open sky.

Evening now unbinds the fetters
Fashion'd by the glowing light;

All that breathe are thankful debtors
To the harbinger of night.

Yet by some grave thoughts attended,
Eve renews her calm career;

For the day that now is ended,
Is the longest of the year.

Laura! sport as now thou sportest,
On this platform, light and free;
Take thy bliss, while longest, shortest,
Are indifferent to thee!

Who would check the happy feeling That inspires the linnet's song? Who would stop the swallow wheeling On her pinions swift and strong?

Yet, at this impressive season,

Words which tenderness can speak, From the truths of homely reason, Might exalt the loveliest cheek;

And while shades to shades succeeding, Steal the landscape from the sight,

I would urge the moral pleading,

Last forerunner of " Good night!"

Summer ebbs: each day that follows
Is a reflux from on high,

Tending to the darksome hollows,
Where the frosts of winter lie.

He who governs the creation,
In his providence assign'd
Such a gradual declination

To the life of human kind.

Yet we mark it not: fruits redden;

Fresh flowers blow as flowers have blown;

And the heart is loath to deaden

Hopes that she so long hath known.

Be thou wiser, youthful maiden!
And when thy decline shall come,
Let not flowers, or boughs fruit-laden,
Hide the knowledge of thy doom.

POWER OF MUSIC.

BY WORDSWORTH.

An Orpheus! an Orpheus! yes, faith may grow bold, And take to herself all the wonders of old:

Near the stately Pantheon you'll meet with the same, In the street that from Oxford hath borrow'd its

name.

His station is there; and he works on the crowd,
He sways them with harmony merry and loud;
He fills with his power all their hearts to the brim:
Was ever aught heard like his fiddle and him?

What an eager assembly! what an empire is this! The weary have life, and the hungry have bliss ; The mourner is cheer'd, and the anxious have rest; And the guilt-burthen'd soul is no longer opprest.

As the moon brightens round her the clouds of the night,

So he, where he stands, is a centre of light:
It gleams on the face, there, of dusky-brow'd Jack,
And the pale-visaged baker's, with basket on back.