sounds at next daybreak. It should bear up, as by a natural growth, a structure in which generations may come, one after another, to the great gift of the social life.

THE GREEK AND TURKMAN.

The Turkman lay beside the river;

CROLY.

The wind played loose through bow and quiver ;
The charger on the bank fed free ;

The shield hung glittering from the tree;
The trumpet, shawm, and atabal

Lay screened from dew by cloak and pall;
For long and weary was the way

The hordes had marched that burning day.

Above them, on the sky of June,
Broad as a buckler glowed the moon,
Flooding with glory vale and hill.
In silver sprang the mountain rill;
The weeping shrub in silver bent;
A pile of silver stood the tent;
All soundless, sweet tranquillity;
All beauty-hill, brook, tent, and tree.

There came a sound-'twas like the gush
When night-winds shake the rose's bush ;
There came a sound-'twas like the tread
Of wolves along the valley's bed;
There came a sound-'twas like the flow
Of rivers swoln with melting snow;
There came a sound-'twas like the roar
Of ocean on its winter shore.

"Death to the Turk!" uprose the yell;
On rolled the charge-a thunder peal.
The Tartar arrows fell like rain,

They clanked on helm and mail and chain :
In blood, in hate, in death were twined
Savage and Greek-mad-bleeding--blind ;
And still on flank and front and rear
Raged, Constantine, thy thirsting spear l

Brassy and pale-a type of doom-
Labored the moon through deepening gloom.
Down plunged her orb-'twas pitchy night!
Now, Turkman, turn thy reins for flight!
On rushed their thousands in the dark !
But in their camp a ruddy spark

Like an uncertain meteor reeled

Thy hand, brave king, that fire-brand wheeled

Wild burst the burning element

O'er man and courser, flood and tent!

And through the blaze the Greeks outsprang
Like tigers-bloody, foot and fang!
With dagger-stab and falchion sweep
Delving the stunned and staggering heap,
Till lay the slave by chief and khan,
And all was gone that once was man.

There's wailing on the Euxine shore-
Her chivalry shall ride no more!
There's wailing on thy hills, Altai,
For chiefs the Grecian vultures prey!
But, Bosphorus, thy silver wave
Hears shouts for the returning brave;
For, kingliest of a kingly line,

Lo! there comes glorious Constantine!

AMERICA.

PHILLIPS.

Search creation round, where can you find a country that presents so sublime a view, so interesting an anticipation? What noble institutions ! What a comprehensive policy. What a wise equalization of every political advantage! The oppressed of all countries, the martyrs of every creed, the innocent victim of despotic arrogance or superstitions phrenzy, may there find refuge; his industry encouraged, his piety respected, his ambition animated; with no restraint but those laws which are the same to all, and no distinction but that which his merit may originate. Who can deny that the existence of such a country presents a subject for human congratulation! Who can deny that its gigantic advancement offers a field for the most rational conjecture! At the end of the very next century, if she proceeds as she seems to promise, what a wondrous spectacle may she not exhibit! Who shall say for what purpose mysterious Providence may not have designed her! Who shall say that when in its follies or its crimes the old world may have buried all the pride of its power, and all the pomp of its civilization, human nature may not find its destined renovation in the new ! when its temples and its trophies shall havemoldered into dust,— when the glories of its name shall be but the legend of tradition, and the light of its achievements live only in song; philosophy will revive again in the sky of her Franklin, and glory rekindle at the urn of her Washington. Is this the vision of romantic fancy? Is it even improbable? Is it half so improbable as the events, which, for the last twenty years, have rolled like successive tides over the surface of the European world, each erasing the impressions that preceded it? Many, I know there are, who will consider this supposition as wild and whimsical; but they have dwelt with little reflection upon the records of the past. They have but ill observed the never-ceasing progression of national raise and national ruin. They form their judgment on the deceitful stability of the present hour, never considering the innumerable monarchies and republics, in former days, appar

ently as permanent, their very existence become now the subject of speculation—I had almost said of skepticism. I appeal to history! Tell me, thou reverend chronicler of the grave, can all the illusions of ambition realized, can all the wealth of an universal commerce, can all the achievements of successful heroism, or all the establishments of this world's wisdom, secure to empire the permanency of its possessions? Alas, Troy thought so once; yet the land of Priam lives only in song! Thebes thought so once; yet her hundred gates have crumbled, and her very tombs are but as the dust they were vainly intended to commemorate! So thought Palmyra-where is she! So thought Persepolis, and now—

"Yon waste, where roaming lions howl,
Yon aisle, where moans the grey-eyed owl,
Shows the proud Persian's great abode,
Where sceptred once, an earthly god,

His power-clad arm controlled each happier clime,

Where sports the warbling muse, and fancy soars sublime."

So thought the countries of Demosthenes and the Spartan ; yet Leonidas is trampled by the timid slave, and Athens insulted by the servile, mindless and enervate Ottoman ! In his hurried march, Time has but looked at their imagined immortality, and all its vanities, from the palace to the tomb, have, with their ruins, erased the very impression of his footsteps! The days of their glory are as if they had never been; and the island that was then a speck, rude and neglected in the barren ocean, now rivals the ubiquity of their commerce, the glory of their arms, the fame of their philosophy, the eloquence of their senate, and the inspiration of their bards! Who shall say, then, contemplating the past, that England, proud and potent as she appears, may not one day be what Athens is, and the young American yet soar to be what Athens was! Who shall say, when the European column shall have moldered, and the night of barbarism obscured its very ruins, that that mighty continent may not emerge from the horizon, to rule, for its time, sovereign of the ascendant.

Such, sir, is the natural progress of human operations, and such the unsubstantial mockery of human pride,

66

VISIT OF LA FAYETTE TO AMERICA.

8. S. PRENTISS,

In 1824, on Sunday, a single ship furled her snowy sails in the harbor of New York; and scarcely had her prow touched the shore, when a murmur was heard among the multitude, which gradually deepened into a mighty shout, and that shout was a shout of joy. And again and again were the heavens rent with the aspiring sound. Nor did it cease, for the loud strain was carried from city to city and from state to state till not a tongue was silent throughout this wide Republic, from the lisping infant to the tremulous old man. All were united in one wild shout of gratulation. The voice of more than ten millions of freemen gushed up towards the sky, and broke the stillness of its silent depths. And but one note, and but one tone went to form this acclamation. And up in those pure regions, clearly and sweetly did it sound, "Honor to La Fayette !" Welcome to the Nation's Guest!" And it was La Fayette, the war-worn veteran, whose arrival on our shores had caused this widespread joy. He came among us to behold the independence and the freedom which his young arm had well assisted in achieving; and never before did eye behold or heart of man conceive such homage paid to virtue. His whole stay among us was a continued triumph. Every day's march was an ovation. The United States became for months one great festive hall. People forgot the usual occupations of life, and crowded to behold the benefactor of mankind. The old ironhearted, gray-haired veterans of the Revolution, thronged around him to touch his hand, to behold his face, and to call down Heaven's benison upon their old companion in arms. Lisping infancy and garrulous old age, beauty, talent, wealth and power-all, for a while, forsook their usual pursuits, and united to pay a willing tribute of gratitude and welcome to the Nation's Guest. The name of La Fayette was upon every lip, and wherever was his name, there too was an invocation for blessing on his head. What were the triumphs of the classic ages, compared with this unbought love and homage of a mighty people? Take them in Rome's best days, when the in