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All-but that freedom of the mind
Which hath been more than wealth to me;
A BRIGHT AUTUMNAL DAY.
THERE was not, on that day, a speck to stain
Career'd, rejoicing in his fields of light.
How beautiful, beneath the bright blue sky,
A summer feeling: even the insect swarms,'
Seem'd now as though it had no cause to mourn
Smil'd in the joyful sunshine... they partook
THE LOVE OF COUNTRY.
LAND of my fathers, though no mangrove 1 here
And still be duly heard, at twilight calm,
GOD many a spiritual house has rear'd, but never
Where lowliness was not laid first,-the corner stone.
A tropical tree of the Old and New World, remarkable for its seeds germinating even while attached to the branches, and also for the numerous root-like projections which serve as supports to the stem. It grows along the sea shores, rooting in the mud, and forming dense forests even at the verge of the ocean, and below high-water mark: hence, on the retiring of the tide, the stems may be often seen covered with oysters and other shell-fish.
To sit on rocks, to muse o'er flood and fell,
Converse with Nature's charms, and view her stores unroll'd.
THE CHILD OF EARTH.
FAINTER her slow step falls from day to day,
Spare me, great God! lift up my drooping brow;
The spring hath ripen'd into summer time,
The glorious sun hath reach'd his burning prime:
"Let me not perish while o'er land and lea, With silent steps, the lord of light moves on; Not while the murmur of the mountain bee
Greets my dull ear, with music in its tone! Pale sickness dims my eye and clouds my brow! I am content to die, but, oh! not now!"
Summer is gone: and autumn's soberer hues
I am content to die, — but, oh! not now!"
The bleak wind whistles:
snow showers, far and
Drift without echo to the whitening ground; Autumn hath pass'd away, and, cold and drear, Winter stalks on, with frozen mantle bound: Yet still that prayer ascends. "Oh! laughingly My little brothers round the warm hearth crowd, Our home-fire blazes broad, and bright and high, And the roof rings with voices light and loud: Spare me awhile! raise up my drooping brow! I am content to die, but, oh! not now!"
The spring is come again - the joyful spring! Again the banks with clustering flowers are spread;
The wild bird dips upon its wanton wing;
"Thee never more the sunshine shall awake, Beaming all redly through the lattice pane; The steps of friends thy slumbers may not break, Nor fond familiar voice arouse again!
Death's silent shadow veils thy darken'd brow; Why didst thou linger?- thou art happier now!" MRS. NORTON.
THEY stand between the mountains and the sea1;
Trodden under foot and mingled dust with dust.
The temples of Pæstum are three in number, and have survived, nearly nine centuries, the total destruction of the city. Tradition is silent concerning them: but they must have existed now between two and three thousand years.
The third building is styled the Basilica, and is supposed to have been one of those courts or porticoes intended for public assemblies and for walking; part appears to have been separated by columns, and appropriated for the magistrates and principal citizens.
A mountain of Lucania.