AMERICA AND ENGLAND. BY WASHINGTON ALLSTON, ESQ. THOUGH ages long have past, Since our fathers left their home, Their pilot in the blast, O'er untravelled seas to roam, Yet lives the blood of England in our veins; That blood of honest fame, By its chains? While the language free and bold How the vault of Heaven rung, When Satan, blasted, fell with all his host; While these with reverence meet, Ten thousand echoes greet, And from rock to rock repeat, Round our coast! While the manners, while the arts, That mould a nation's soul, Still cling around our hearts, Between, let ocean roll, Our joint communion breaking with the sun; Yet still from either beach The voice of blood shall reach,— More audible than speech, We are one! ODE TO A STEAM-BOAT. BY T. DOUBLEDAY, ESQ. ON such an eve, perchance, as this, The languid ocean scarce at all Amongst the sparkling pebbles hissing,— The lucid wavelets, as they fall, The sunny beach in whispers kissing, Full many a broad, but delicate tint Enamelled meads, or golden grain ;- One tiny star-beam, faintly trembling, Its parent in the shadowing east ;— Hushed is the loud tongue of the deep : Yon glittering sail, far o'er the tide, Amid its course appears to sleep ; We watch, but only know it glide Still on, by a bright track afar, : Oh! such an eve is sorrow's balm, Or cast a cloud o'er such a scene! Wast thou a grampus,-nay, a whale,— Still wouldst thou not so outrage gusto! Of seeing ships propelled by steam? Now blazing like a dozen comets, And rushing as if nought could bind thee, Satan, when scheming to betray us Was there no quirk,-one can't tell how,- Should Neptune, in his turn, invade thee, He must be long-tongued, with a witness, To make yon clear, pellucid ocean, Philosophers may talk of science, And mechanicians of utility,- It may be orthodox, and wise, And catholic, and transcendental, Literary Souvenir. THE VISION. THERE is a blest voice in the Sabbath air, And well forgets this vain earth's gloom and glare, And I will drink the cup, and kiss the rod. New Monthly Magazine. THE INCONSTANT'S APOLOGY. BY THE LATE M. G. LEWIS, ESQ. LOVE, I've loved you passing well, Loved you long, and loved sincerely; How I loved no tongue can tell, 'T was so truly, 't was so dearly; But my fond delirium o'er, Love, adieu;—we'll meet no more! When I owned your beauty's sway, Can I still the casket prize, When the gem by Time is plundered? Can the stalk delight mine eyes, Whence the rose for aye is sundered? These possess no charms for me, Parting lip and melting eye, Teeth of pearl, and cheeks of roses, Now in Aura's blooming form, Charms once yours mine eyes discover; Since my soul they still can warm, Wherefore call me faithless lover? What you were, and she is now, Still obtains my fervent vow. |