young ladies, take another view, this scene you will find more social. Amelia.-Surely, Sir, this is a different view of the same garden; but I do not see either King, Queen, or attendants.

D.-Do not you discover their palace? Look to the right hand. Amelia-Now I do, Sir; O, what a charming arbour! With what an exuberance of the sweetest foliage is it covered! The jessamine and bignonia, the melianthus and clematis, combine their varied beauties to ornament the bower; while the myrtle, rose, and laurel, constitute a most beautiful treillis round its sides; and near the entrance is a bank, thickly embossed

with violets. Do, my dear Mamma, look at it certainly, this is Eden, and that is Adam's Bower.

Harriot. So it is, Sister; observe the lilac and laburnum, how they wave their pliant branches in every direction. Look! do look, Mamma! I can see Adam and Eve coming to the front of the arbour.

Mrs. N.-You are right, Harriot; they are now kneeling down on the violet bank which your sister mentioned; are they, Sir, going to their morning devotions?

D:-They are, Madam; at which time all nature observes a solemn stillness.

Mrs. N. With what reverential

awe and holy admiration, do they direct their eyes towards heaven! (Amelia was going to speak, but Mrs. Neville, holding up her finger, all hearkened, and heard Adam thus solemnly address his Creator.)

"These are thy glorious works, Parent of Good! Almighty! thine this universal frame,

Thus wondrous fair; thyself how wondrous then!
Unspeakable! who sitt'st above these heav'ns,
To us invisible, or dimly seen

In these thy lower works: yet these declare
Thy goodness beyond thought, and pow'r divine.
Speak ye who best can tell, ye sons of light,
Angels! for ye behold him, and with songs
And choral symphonies, day without night,
Circle his throne rejoicing; ye in heav'n.
On earth join all ye creatures to extol
Him first, him last, him midst, and without end!
Fairest of stars, last in the train of night,

If better thou belong not to the dawn,
Sure pledge of day, that crown'st the smiling morn
With thy bright circlet, praise him in thy sphere,
While day arises, that sweet hour of prime.
Thou sun, of this great world both eye and soul,
Acknowledge him thy greater; sound his praise
In thy eternal course, both when thou climb'st,
And when high noon hast gain'd, and when thou
fall'st.

Moon, that now meet'st the orient sun, now fly'st
With the fix'd stars, fix'd in their orb that flies;
And ye five other wandering fires, that move
In mystic dance not without song, resound

1

His praise, who out of darkness call'd up light.
Air, and ye elements, the eldest birth
Of Nature's womb, that in quaternion run
Perpetual circle, multiform, and mix

And nourish all things; let your ceaseless change
Vary to our great Maker still new praise.

Ye mists and exhalations that now rise

From hill or streaming lake, dusky or grey,

Till the sun paint your fleecy skirts with gold,

In honour to the world's great Author rise;

Whether to deck with clouds th' uncolour'd sky, Or wet the thirsty earth with falling show'rs, Rising or falling still advance his praise.

His praise, ye winds, that from four quarters blow, Breathe soft or loud; and wave your tops, ye pines, With every plant, in sign of worship wave. Fountains, and ye that warble, as ye flow, Melodious murmurs, warbling tune his praise: Join voices all ye living souls, ye birds, That singing up to heaven's gate ascend, Bear on your wings, and in your notes, his praise. Ye that in waters glide, and ye that walk The earth, and stately tread, or lowly creep; Witness if I be silent, morn or even, To hill or valley, fountain or fresh shade, Made vocal by my song, and taught his praise. Hail universal Lord! be bounteous still To give us only good: and if the night Have gather'd ought of evil, or conceal'd, Disperse it, as now light dispels the dark!”