STANZAS. I STOOD upon the shore Of the dark and boundless sea, The waves, with fitful roar, Were lashing loudly free: Winds swept along the sky, Where not a cloud was seen, And the star of evening's eye Shot through the blue serene I gazed on that wild tide, I stood alone, and sighed— My thoughts were of the past;— The memory bright of youth' Upon my musings broke; Touched by the wand of Truth, Long slumbering thoughts awoke. How oft-how oft-how oft In moonlight and in shade, When the heart was young and soft, With Inez I had strayed These yellow sands along, When all was silent nigh, Oh! my heart did bound and beat, Changed-darkly changed were all My thoughts-my hopes-and earth ;— Joy slept beneath its pall, Cares long had stifled mirth ; Love, with a meteor ray, Had sunk within its west, To leave me on life's way, Chilled-cheerless-and deprest ! Before my mind, what views Of beauty were unfurled! Deep dyed in memory's hues, How changed was all the world: A cloud had dimmed its light; I listened to the wind,→ I listened to the sea ;- And all looked changed like me! A. PALMYRA. BY J. H. WIFFEN, ESQ. * O SIGHT of glory-City of the Great! And left thee thus for ages. Arch on arch Interminable! Armies in their march Through thee, but shrink to atoms! Round and round Thy pillars point a worship, without sound; And heaven is all thy cupola-a dome Of stars, whose spheres may be the soul's bright home. * Solomon; to whose talismans and the assistance of Genii the Arabs ascribe the erection of Palmyra. + Although there is no authority for ascribing the ruin of the Palmyrene Temple to the Arabs, it is extremely probable that such was the case, at the time when their zeal for Mahometanism led to the extinction of fire-worship among the Persians. Not vainly was it fabled that the Spirits Of the great Magian called thee from the abyss; A fairy fable art thou-a romance, Yet brilliant with the jewelry of Truth; And it was here, with melody and dance, Wit, wisdom, beauty, pressed the grape of youth, Till the soul reeled, and the heart gushed with wine, And paid its orisons at Passion's shrine! Where stood the Palace--the Seraglio where ? Lit with the blaze of odorous cinnamon, A thousand priests with cymbals and with lyres But now the altars quenched-the worship ended! Arch, column, portico, frieze, capital, And sculptured peristyle, in fragments strewing Each avenue, or tottering to their fall! Yet still, as to the stars thy columns soar, |