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From the same.

The mountains in their places stood,
The sea-the sky-and "all was good;"
And when its first few praises rang,
The "morning stars together sang."
Lord, 'tis not ours to make the sea,
And earth, and sky, a house for thee;
But in thy sight our off'ring stands-
An humbler temple "made with hands."
We cannot bid the morning star
To sing how bright thy glories are;
But, Lord, if thou wilt meet us here,
Thy praise shall be the Christian's tear.

From the same.

MIDNIGHT MASS.

Music murmuring soft and low,
Wailings sad of deepest woe,
Solemn breathings of distress,
From mortal souls' unhappiness.
Wailing like a low-toned hymn,
Sung by midnight cherubim,
Swelling upwards to the sky,
Sounds that anthem choristry.
Faint and dim the moonlight shines,
Through yon solemn grove of pines,
Where the death-gloom darkly waves
Over burial-heaps of graves.
In that chapel-choir at night,
Cross and censer gleameth bright;
And the altar tapers shed
Light on many a reverend head.
Sorrowing youth and drooping age
Met on life's long pilgrimage;
Praying on through weal and woe,
For mercy in the world below.
Many a prayer and many a moan
Echo through that chapel lone;
Mingling plaint and heart-felt sigh
With priest's responding litany.
Cross and bead are counted o'er,
For sorrowing sins' unshriven store;
And each monk, in cowl and stole,
Sings mass for beadsman's parted soul.
From her dark and dreary cloud,
The elfin wind is wailing loud;
And the pale stars shine between
The midnight's purple rifted sheen.
But hush! for lo! the hymn is o'er,
Chaunt and psalm are heard no more;
Solemn prayer and rite are done,
Midnight mass and orison.

Dimly through each aisle arcade,
Torch and censer-smoke are swayed;
Crucifix and train go by

Each to his night-sanctuary.

Dark and robed each form moves on

To his silent cell of stone;

Where in sleep sweet visions given,

Fill each beadsman's dream with heaven.

Night and darkness vigil keep,
O'er that olden abbey's sleep;

Angel-spirits guard the rest

Of each lovely slumberer's breast,
And the sainted virgin's spell

Shieldeth o'er them all-farewell!

C. D. M.

BE STILL MY HEART.

(Translated from the German of Helmina V. Chezy.)

Be still my heart, tho' Heaven
From earth my child has ta'en,
When life's dark veil is riven
We yet may meet again.
How selfish were the sorrow,
To wish her still below,
Where life can only borrow
Of hope relief from woe.
Life's summer bloom has faded,
Ere spring had ceased to be,
For joy will now be shaded
By memory from me.
Forgive me Heav'n! the mother
Within my breast doth swell,
My heart its grief would smother,
But nature will rebel.

From the same.

THE DYING INFANT.

Pale, motionless and silent, lay
An infant on its bed,

While on its face the smile of peace,

A beauteous halo shed;

And on that face a mother gaz'd,
With looks of wild despair,
Conscious that death's resistless hand
Had fixed his signet there.

She saw alone the hastening hour
When to her fond caress,

No more she might those ruby lips,
With tenderest rapture press;
But saw not in that placid smile,
The brighter vision seal'd,
Which on her darling's spirit broke,
To her yet unreveal'd.

For near the couch an angel spread,
His pure ethereal wings,
Imparting to that spotless soul
Unutterable things;

And whisper'd soft of anguish spar'd,
Of bliss immortal given,

And all its new-born senses fill'd
With dreams of opening heaven!

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With thee I could from rise of day
With rapture e'en till night-fall stray;
With lover's pure delight

Still wander all the night:

Then let me wedded be
Mine only love to thee.

SONG.

From the same.

Think not, dear love! that there can be
Within my heart one thought of thee
Which love would ever blush to own;
It beats for thee, and thee alone!
The breeze upon some crystal lake
Doth oft a transient ripple wake;
And for awhile the Naiad fair
Beholds not her own image there.
Thus often does a careless word,
Though lightly uttered, deeply heard,
Disturb thy heart's tranquillity,

And hide awhile my love from thee!

FLOWERS.

There is religion in a flower;

Its still small voice is as the voice of conscience.
Mountains and oceans, planets, suns, and systems,
Bear not the impress of almighty power
In characters more legible, than those
Which he has written on the tiniest flower

and anchored in Falmouth Harbour on the 19th. The Great Western departed from Bristol on the 8th of April, and she also arrived at New York on St. George's day! though some twelve or fifteen hours later than the Sirius;-and again, leaving New York on the 18th instant, reached Bristol on the 22nd. All honour to those who so boldly ventured and so ably triumphed. It is not two years since the assembled science at the British Association were engaged in warm discussion as to the possibility of that which has now been accomplished-done not only without accident, but with scarcely enough of perilous incident to awaken public interest. How far the facts will bear out some or many of the speculations of the philosophers remains to be seen; the influences of weather, the proportion of tonnage to power occupied by fuel and engine, the average rate, &c. were then considered: and we shall next week have an opportu J. D. nity of submitting to the scientific public full and ac curate data on these subjects; the Log-Book of the Sirius having been obligingly submitted for our use and their service. The Sirius had an unusually rough pas sage, and encountered severe gales, which she rode out with comparative ease. The passengers, indeed, speak in the highest terms of the seamanship of Captain Roberts, and the sea-worthiness of his vessel; in

Whose light bell bends beneath the dew-drop's weight.

the roughest weather, says one of them, "she rolled decidedly less than a sailing vessel: we sat down to table as usual, without having to put up the stanchions to the table." Her average speed we have not calcu

Domestic Life.-Pleasure is to women what the sun is to the flower; if moderately enjoyed, it beautifies, it refreshes, and it improves; if immoderately, it with-lated, but we observe that the least was 89 and the ers, deteriorates, and destroys. But the duties of domestic life, exercised, as they must be, in retirement, and calling forth all the sensibilities of the female, are, perhaps, as necessary to the full developement of her charms, as the shade and shower are to the rose,

confirming its beauty and increasing its fragrance.

--

greatest 225 miles in the twenty-four hours; but all such, and other interesting particulars next week. The superiority in speed of the Great Western we attribute in degree to her greater length. What then may not be accomplished by that noble vessel the British Queen, launched on Thursday, which is 275 feet long, being 35 more than any ship in the British Affection.-Affections well placed and dutifully che- navy? The generous and enthusiastic welcome with rished; friendships happily formed and faithfully main- which the officers of the Sirius and the Great Westtained; knowledge acquired with worthy intent, andern were received at New York does honour to the intellectual powers that have been diligently improv- American people; every possible testimony of respect ed as the talents which our Lord and Master has committed to our keeping: these will accompany us into another state of existence as surely as the soul in that

state retains its identity and consciousness.

From the Athenæum.

STEAM NAVIGATION.

The great experiment of traversing "the vast Atlantic" by the aid of steam has been triumphantly successful; the Sirius and the Great Western once again ride proudly in British ports. The Sirius, as we announced, left Cork on the 4th of April, and arrived at New York on the 23d, St. George's day! She again started from New York on the 1st instant,

and hearty good-will and good wishes were shown to them; not a whisper of regret was heard that the great enterprise had been accomplished by British skill; they were welcomed as brothers by men who saw only in the event the revolution which had been at once effected in the commercial, and, we may say, in the social relations of the two countries-an event which will form an epoch in the history of civilization itself-which tends to unite in the bonds of enduring fellowship the greatest nations of the earth, allied by language, by literature, by interest, and by blood; and offers to both, a guarantee, a thousand times more binding than all the treaties that were ever penned for the preservation of that honourable peace which now gladdens and enriches them.

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