scious of his intense anxiety, buoyant with life, joyously pursue their rounds of business, their cycles of amusement. The sun slowly climbs the heavens, round and bright and full-orbed. The lone tenant of the mountain-top almost begins to waver in the sternness of his faith as the morning hours roll away. But the time of his triumph, long delayed, at length begins to dawn; a pale and sickly hue creeps over the face of nature. The sun has reached his highest point, but his splendor is dimmed, his light is feeble. At last it comes! Blackness is eating away his round disc. Onward with slow but steady pace the dark veil moves, blacker than a thousand nights. The gloom deepens; the ghastly hue of death covers the universe, the last ray is gone, and horror reigns. A wail of terror fills the murky air, the clangor of brazen trumpets resounds, an agony of despair dashes the stricken millions to the ground, while that lone man, erect on his rocky summit, with arms outstretched to heaven, pours forth the grateful gushings of his heart to God, who had crowned his efforts with triumphant victory. Search the records of our race, and point me, if you can, to a scene more grand, more beautiful. It is to me the proudest victory that genius ever It was the conquering of nature, of ignorance, of superstition, of terror, all at a single blow, and that blow struck by a single

won.

arm.

And now do you demand the name of this wonderful man? Alas! what a lesson of the instability of earthly fame are we taught in this simple recital! He who had raised himself immeasurably above his race, who must have been regarded by his fellows as little less than a god, who had inscribed his fatne

ON Sunday see the haughty maid

In all the glare of dress arrayed, Decked in her most fantastic gown Because a stranger's come to town; Heedless at church she spends the day, For homelier folks may serve to pray, And for devotion those may go Who can have nothing else to do. Beauties at church may spend their care in Far other work than pious hearing; They've beaux to conquer, belles to rival : To make them serious were uncivil. For, like the preacher, they each Sunday Must do their whole week's work in one day.

As though they meant to take by blows
The opposing galleries of beaux,
To church the female squadron move
All armed with weapons used in love.
Like colored ensigns gay and fair,
High caps rise floating in the air;
Bright silk its varied radiance flings,
And streamers wave in kissing-strings;
Each bears th' artillery of her charms
Like training-bands at viewing arms.

JOHN TRUMBULL.

ceased a while,

And Hope, thy sister, ceased

with thee to smile, When leagued Oppression poured Northern

wars

to

Her whiskered pandoors and

her fierce hussars, Waved her dread standard to the breeze of morn, Pealed her loud drum and twanged her trumpet-horn; Tumultuous horror brooded o'er her van, Presaging wrath to Poland and to man.

fly,

Revenge, or death"-the watchword and

reply;

Then pealed the notes omnipotent to charm, And the loud tocsin tolled their last alarm.

In vain-alas, in vain !-ye gallant few, From rank to rank your volleyed thunder flew :

Oh, bloodiest picture in the book of Time, Sarmatia fell unwept without a crimeFound not a generous friend, a pitying foe, Strength in her arms, nor mercy in her woe. Dropped from her nerveless grasp the shattered spear,

surveyed,

Wide o'er the fields, a waste of ruin laid.

"O Heaven," he cried, "my bleeding country save!

career.

Hope for a season bade the world farewell And Freedom shrieked as Kosciusko fell.

there:

plains,

Rise, fellow-men! our country yet remains! By that dread name we wave the sword on high,

And swear for her to live, with her to die."

He said, and on the rampart-heights arrayed His trusty warriors, few, but undismayed; Firm-paced and slow, a horrid front they form,

Still as the breeze, but dreadful as the

storm;

On Prague's proud arch the fires of ruin

glow,

His blood-dyed waters murmuring far below; The storm prevails, the rampart yields a

way,

Bursts the wild cry of horror and dismay. Hark! as the smouldering piles with thunder fall

A thousand shrieks for hopeless mercy call ; Earth shook, red meteors flashed along the sky,

And conscious Nature shuddered at the cry.