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THREE DAYS OF CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS.

vivify all nature! Stand by-I am hotter, and therefore better than you!" It is not for the moon to retort, and say " You are of a fiery temperament, you are an incendiary. The fierceness of your rays is overpowering. The ardour of your disposition is incompatible with sobriety of judgment. You are always in a state of excitement-always burning, burning, burning! Why do you not imitate me? I am immaculate-perfect -none too hot, none too cold-always mild, calm, reflectiveprecisely what every sun ought to be!"

It is well for the universe that those twain are not one. Blot out the sun, and chaos would come again. Deprived of the light of the moon, the earth would mourn. The moon is not for the day-the sun is not for the night, but they will be indispensable as long as day and night, seed time and harvest shall last.

W. L. G.

Chree Days of Christopher Columbus.

"BACK to Europe again; let our sails be unfurled!"
"Three days," said Columbus " and I give you a world!"
And he pointed a finger and looked through the Vast,
As if he beheld the bright region at last:

He sails-and the dawn, the first day, quickly leads:
He sails-and the golden horizon recedes:
He sails-till the sun, downward sinking from view,
Hides the sea and the sky with their limitless blue-
On, onward he sails, while in vain o'er the lea,
Down plunges the lead through the fathomless sea!

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THREE DAYS OF CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS.

The pilot in silence leans mournfully o'er

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The rudder, which creaks mid the dark billows' roar:
He hears the hoarse moan of the waves rushing past,
And the funeral wail of the wind-stricken mast:
And the stars of far Europe have fled from the skies,
And the "Cross of the South" meets his terrified eyes.
But at length the slow dawn softly streaking the night,
Illumes the vast dome with its beautiful light.
"Columbus! 'tis day, and the darkness hath past!"
"Day! and what dost thou see?" "I see nought but the
Vast!"

What matter? he's calm! but ah stranger, if you
Had your hand on his heart, with such glory in view;
Had you felt the wild throb of despair and delight
That depressed and expanded his bosom that night;
The quick alternations, as morning drew near,
The chill and the fever, the rapture and fear,

You would feel that such moments exhausted the rage
And the multiplied malice and pains of an age-
You would say these three days half a lifetime hath slain,
And his fame is too dear at the price of such pain!

Oh who can describe what the crushed heart can bear-
The delirium of hope, and the lonely despair,
Of a Great Man unknown, whom his age doth despise
As a fool,'mid the vain vulgar crowd of the wise!
Such wert thou Galileo! Far better to die

Than thus, by a terrible effort, to lie!

When thou gave, by an agony deep and intense,

That lie to thy labours, thy reason, thy sense:
To the Sun, to the Earth,to that Earth we repeat,
Which thou trembled to feel moving under thy feet!

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THREE DAYS OF CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS.

The second day's past-and Columbus ?-he sleeps!
While Mutiny round him its dark vigil keeps:

Shall he perish? "Death!" "Death!" is the mutinous cry,
"He must triumph to-morrow, or perjured, must die!"
The ingrates! Shall his tomb on to-morrow be made
Of that sea which his daring a highway had made?
Shall that sea on to-morrow with pitiless waves,

Fling his corse on that shore, which his longing eye craves ?
The corse of an unknown adventurer then-

One day later, Columbus-the greatest of men!

He dreams, how a veil drooping over the main,
Is rent, at the distant horizon in twain :

And how, from beneath, on his rapturous sight,

Burst at length the New World from the darkness of night!
Oh how fresh, oh how fair, the new virgin earth seems!
With gold the fruits glisten, and sparkle the streams.
Green gleams on the mountains, and gladdens the isles,
And the seas and the rivers are dimpled with smiles!
"Joy! joy!" cries Columbus, "this region is mine!"
Ah! not even its name, hapless dreamer, is thine!

At length o'er Columbus slow consciousness breaks—
Land-land! cry the sailors-land-land-he awakes;
He runs-yes beholds it! it blesseth his sight,—
The land! oh sweet spectacle! transport! delight'
Oh generous sobs which he cannot restrain!

What will Ferdinand say? and the Future? and Spain?
He will lay this fair land at the foot of the throne-
The king will repay all the ills he has known.
In exchange for a world, what are honours and gains?
Or a crown? but how is he rewarded? with chains!

Luther.

HITHERTO the too common idea of the great reformer's character has been, that it was a compound of ruggedness and violence. These traits have been so prominent, that the finer lines of his character have been completely shaded from sight. Another reason of our misconception has been, that we too often honour mere daintiness of mind with the names of delicacy, sensibility, &c. Perhaps, however, the finest, richest, and most generous species of character, is that which presents to the dainty, the most repulsive surface. Within the rough rind, the feelings are preserved unsophisticated, robust and healthy. The "noli me tangeri" outside, keeps off the insidious swarm of artificial sentimentalists, which taint and adulterate, and finally expel all natural emotions from within us. The idea of a perfect man has always been prefigured to our minds by the lion coming out of the lamb, and the lamb coming out of the lion. Of this description of character was Luther. Nothing could exceed his submissiveness and humility, when a choice was left him whether to be humble or daring; but when duty spoke, no other consideration was for a moment attended to: and he certainly did then shake the forest with his magnificent ire. If we behold him one moment, to use his own quotation from Scripture-" pouring contempt upon princes," we see him the next, in his familiar correspondence, a poor, humble, afflicted man, not puffed up with pride at the great things he had accomplished, but rather, struck down with a sense of his own unworthiness. As to his violence, it was part of his mission to be violent and those who lay it to his charge as blame, seem to us, not to accuse him, but to accuse Providence. Not to have been violent, he would not have been in earnest: and here it must be observed that his violence was only verbal. It was merely the rousing voice, to

wake Europe from the lethargy of ages. In his opinions and

views, he was the most moderate of reformers. In his coarseness however, his low origin certainly speaks out; yet there is something sublime in the peasant, (the miner's son,) dragging popes and kings into his wrestling ring, and handling them with as little ceremony as he would a hob-nailed clown in a market place.

But let us follow him into private life. Here it is that we shall best learn to appreciate him. We will not dwell upon his constant contentment in poverty, and his contempt for riches, because this is characteristic of nearly all the great men, who are really worth more than gold can procure them but his long, unbroken friendship with Melancthon-a character so unlike his own, and in some respects so superior, as Luther himself was the first to acknowledge, struck us as proof that he possessed much sweetness and gentleness of disposition. Envy or jealousy never for a moment interrupted the fraternal affection that subsisted between these great men. Of those passions, indeed, Luther seems to have been incapable. Neither did personal ambition come near him. Though he had so many titles to it, he never claimed the supremacy over his cotemporary reformers. Notwithstanding the great things he had performed, he gave himself no air of grandeur or importance. There was a simplicity and commonness in his habits and conversation, that contrast wonderfully with the revolution he brought about. This simplicity, we were going to say, shows his native greatness, but we correct ourselves and add, that it exhibits that Apostolic frame of mind, which all the messengers of God from Moses downward, have displayed. Such men are moulded at once by the Hand that sends them. The accidents of this life have no power, (as they have upon others,) to change or modify their moral conformation. There is a oneness, a wholeness, an uncompoundedness of character in these elect instruments. On their moral frame is chiseled by the Divine finger one idea, and only one.