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Moring his spirit with a strange delight !

But such beguile me not! The trees are mine, Love will I win from friendship--the old lure These hoary headed masters ;-and I glide,

Will I make new, and all the new secure; Humbled, beneath their unpresuming pride,
And beauty never thence shall fade from sight! And wist not much what blossoms bud or shine.
Think not I mock thee-spells of higher power I better love to see yon grandsire oak,
Are gathered in the blue depths of this flower. Old Druid, patriarch, lone among his race,

With blessing, out-stretched arms, as giving

grace, Sweet Lady! in the name of one no more, When solemn rites are said, or bread is broke :

Both of us loved and neither shall forget, Decay is at his roots,—the storm has been
Make me thy brother,-though our hearts before, Among his limbs,—but the old top is green.
Perchance, have never in communion met;

Give me thy gentle memories, though there be,
Between our forms some thousand miles of sea, The pine with its green honors ; cypress gray,
Wild tract and wasted desert :- let me still,

Bedded in waters; crimsoning with bloom, Whate'er the joy that warms me, or the thrill, The maple, that's irreverently gay, That tortures, and from which I may not flee,

Too soon, methinks, throws off his winter gloom; Hold ever a sweet place within thy breast ! The red bud, lavish in its every spray, Le this my spirit shall be more than bless'd

Glowing with promise of the exulting spring, And in my prayers,-if, haply, prayer of mine

And over all the laurel, like some king, Be not a wrong unto a soul like thine,

Conscious of strength and stature, born for sway. There shall be blessings from the skies for thee. I care not for their species-never look IV.

For class or order in pedantic book,-

Enough that I behold them—that they lead They tell as-whom the Gods love, die in youth !

To meek retreats of solitude and thought, Tis something to die innocent and pure;

Declare me from the world's day-labors freed,
But death without performance, is most sure, And bring me tidings books have never taught.
Ambition's martyrdom-worst death, in truth,

To the aspiring temper, fix'd in thought,
Of high achievement! Happier far are they,

Woods, waters, have a charm to soothe thine ear, Who, as the Prophet of the Ancients taught,

When common sounds have vex'd it. When the Hail the bright finish of a perfect day!

day With fullest consummation of each aim,

Grows sultry, and the crowd is in thy way, That wrought the hope of manhood-with the And working in thy soul much coil and care, — crown,

Betake thee to the forests. In the shade Fird to their mighty brows, of amplest fame,

Of pines, and by the side of purling streams Who smile at death's approaches and lie down,

That pratile all their secrets in their dreams, Calaly, as one beneath the shade tree yields,

Unconscious of a listener,-unafraid, Satisfied of the morrow and green fields.

Thy soul shall feel their freshening, and the truth V.

Of nature then, reviving in thy heart, Let us escape! This is our holiday

Shall bring thee the best feelings of thy youth, God's day, devote to rest; and, through the wood

When in all natural joys, thy joy had part, We'll wander, and, perchance, find heavenly food, Ere lucre and the narrowing toils of trade So, profitless it shall not pass away.

Had turn'd thee to the thing thou wast not made. Tis life, but with sweet difference, methinks,

Here, in the forest ;-from the crowd set free,
The spirit, like escaping song-bird drinks

The mighty and the massy of the wood
Fresh sense of music from its liberty.

Compel my worship: satisfied I lie, Thoughts crowd about us with the trees—the shade

With nought in sight but forest, earth and sky, Holds teachers that await us: in our ear,

And give sweet sustenance to precious mood !

'Tis thus from visible but inanimate things, l'nwonted, but sweet voices do we hear, That with rare excellence of tongue persuade :

We gather mortal reverence. They declare They do not chide our idlesse,-were content,

In silence, a persuasion I must share, If all our wanderings were as innocent.

Of hidden sources, far spiritual springs,

Fountains of deep intelligence, and powers,

That man himself pursues not; and I grow March is profuse in violets—at our feet

From wonder into worship, as the show, They cluster,not in pride but modesty ; Majestic, but unvoiced, through noteless hours, The damsel pauses as she passes by,

Imposes on my soul, with musings high, Plucks them with smiles, and calls them very sweet.' That, like Jacob's Ladder, lift me to the sky!


is too well known to the whole country to render it These haunts are sacred,-for the vulgar mood necessary that we should say what are his claims Loves not seclusion. Here the very day

as a scientific man. He is also well known as a Seems in a Sabbath dreaminess to brood, polished and skilful reviewer and a graceful essayist. The groves breathe slumber—the great tree-tops There are few subjects of interest upon which his sway

mind cannot throw light and to which his taste Drowsily, with the idle-going wind;

could not impart grace and beauty As an orator, he And sweetest images before my mind

has honored some of the most venerable desks in Persuade me into pleasure, with their play. the Union. At home, he is deservedly recognized Here, fancies of the present and the past as the urbane and accomplished gentleman. It is

Delight to mingle, 'till the palpable seems not so well known, however, that he engages in

Inseparate from the glory in my dreams, frequent and fortunate dalliance with the muses. And golden with the halo round it cast :

Our sister State of Carolina has produced several Thus do I live with Rosalind, thus stray poets, of whom, in Virginia, we know little or With Jacques; and churning o'er some native nothing. Dickson is one of them. In Carolina, rhyme,

one of his songs has acquired a peculiar popularity. Persuade myself it smacks of the old time. It has been adapted to music by a Southern com

poser, and is marmured by rosy lips on happy ereXI.

nings. It is a Southern ditty, and we may claim the There have been earnest fancies in my soul, application of some of its images. A wilder summons,-deeper cares than these,

SONG :-"I SIGH FOR THE LAND." That now possess my spirit and control,

I. Subduing me to forests and green trees ;

I sigh for the land of the cypress and pine Thoughts have assailed me in my solitude,

Where the jessamine blooms and the gay woodbine; Of human struggle !-and within mine ear, Where the moss droops low from the green oak tree,

Still and anon as whispering voice I hear, Oh! that sunbright land is the land for me. That mocks me with my feebleness of mood;

II. The puny toil of song--the idle dance

The snowy flow'r of the orange there, Of metaphor, and shadows of romance !

Sheds its sweet fragrance through the air;

And the Indian rose delights to twine
Points to superior struggle-paints the cares

Its branches with the laughing vine.
Of Empire,-the great nation in the toils
Of impotence, that still in blindness dares,

There the humming bird of rainbow plume,
And what it cannot elevate despoils.

Hangs over the scarlet creeper's bloom,
(To be continued.]

While midst the leaves his varying dyes
Sparkle like half-seen fairy eyes.


There the deer leaps light through the open glade,

Or hides him far in the forest sbade, BY PROFESSOR S. H. DICKSON, OF SOUTH CAROLINA. 1844.

When ihe woods resound in the deuy morn We scarcely do right, we of the South, in passing With the clang of the merry buater's horn. heedlessly by the occasional performances of our

V. amateur writers. Suppose there has been a sort of

There the echoes ring through the live long day, aristocratic indiference on their part, to the honors With the mock-bird's changeful roundelay, of authorship, which makes them rather anxious to And at night when the scene is calm and still, avoid publicity or notoriety, when they put their With the moan of the plaintive whip-poor-will. thoughts in print? It is for us not to suffer them

VI. to escape so easily. We have too few authors

Oh! I sigh for the land of the cypress and pipe, arnong us—we take too little part in the great con- Of the laurel, the rose and the gay woodbine ; cerns of literature-not to make us solicitous of Where the long grey moss decks the rugged oak tree;

That sunbright land is the land for me. all who contribute, in however slight a degree, in furnishing our quota to the national stock of belles- 1830. lettres. We must go out of the way, if needs be, Here is something in a bolder and more entheto gather up the unconsidered trifles of our pro- siastic spirit. The subject is one of a kind to defessional men--not forgetting how many of the mand a vigorous muse. favorite writers of England were of this class-

THE MOUNTAINS. men who turned aside, as if from graver labors,

1. and loitered in the gardens of the muse.

The mountains ! The mountains! Amidst them is my bome; Here now is a little volume, the author of which to their pure and sparkling fountains impatiently I come: clearly comes under this classification. Professor Their bleak and towering summits invade the dark blue sky, Dickson, of the Medical College of South Carolina, 'But o'er their rudest ridges my fancy lores to fly.




With intermitted lustre, kindly given, The mountains! the mountains ! rock-ribb'd and firm they

To bless alternately our longing eyes: stand,

Though they subside awbile in western skies, Their sons a hold and hardy race, the bulwarks of the land;

As we revolve, again by night they rise, Freedom reluctant may be driven from vale and fertile plain,

Again adorn the day.
But here she finds unconquer'd hearts her banner to sustain.


But we pass hence forever; the deep grave

No visitor gives back : The mountains! the mountains! when summer strews ber

We pass—as o'er the restless ocean-wave flow'rs,

Plunges the fated vessel, idly brave; And bird and bee with hum and song enjoy the genial hours,

Resistless round her sides mad tempests rave, How sweet to climb the gentle slope wbile glows the part

No eye to pily, and no hand to saveing even,

Moaning she sinks; wild waters sweep her deck, And watch each planet as it springs from forth the blacken

And while they merciless engulf the wreck ing heaven!

Efface her foaming track.

1830. The mountains! the mountains! on their sides I love to

Our author might have drawn a less gloomy moral from his inscription.

we pass with the To listen to their dasbing streams, to see their waters foam : The sunlight flows more radiant hence to gild the scenes

hours, we are renewed with them. If we share alar,

the vicissitudes and suffer from the storms of time, Brighter the silver moonbeans glance and fairer every star. we are also sure of eternity. Our shipwreck V.

secures us the haven, and if we use the passing The mountains! the mountains! when clouds the day de hour as we should, it is one which we should deform,

light, even at the hazard of mortal shipwreck, to And through the air resistless sweeps the wild and wintry attain. But we are subsiding into common place. stor,

The tone of Professor Dickson's verse is uniVamored amid the fierce uproar their foreheads dare the formly sad. His sentiments sometimes plaintive,

sky, And the fury of the tempest in its maddest rage defy.

sometimes mournful, is too frequenily gloomy.

We would not that this were so. Take the folVI.

lowing cheerless, almost hopeless dirge for example. The mountains! the mountains! they lift the soul on high, And fill the mind with thoughts sublime of vast infinity,

Frowning and massive as they stand, wide spreading all I seek the quiet of the tomb,

There would I sleep;
They show the strong majestic hand of their Creator-God! I love ils silence and its gloom

So dark and deep.
Here is something on an old text. The inscrip-

II. tion on a French sun-dial suggests the theme to the

I would forget the anxious cares

That rend my breast;
Lise's joys and sorrows, hopes and scars-

Here let me rest.
“L'heure passe et nous aussi.”


Weep not for me, nor breathe one sigh

Above my bier-
Fair girl! whose joyous morn of life shines brightly,

Depart and leave me tranquilly,
Scarce with a cloud o'ercast;

Repose is here.
While onward still thy golden bours glide lightly
List to the voice that hids t'employ them rightly:
The cloudless dawn may bring a gloomy noon,

Mock me not with the lofty mound
Evening and night impend and follow soon,-

Of sculptured stone; The longest summer day is quickly past.

Lay me unmarked beneath the ground,

All-all alone!

1842. Lore, hope and joy pass swist--their every ray

We do not know but that we have been overBut for a moment gleams; It is man's doom--to pain and fear a prey

stepping the bounds of propriety in taking these It is his doom to seek his devious way

liberties with this little volume, which is unpubThrough the vague shadows of a doubtful day,

lished, and intended, by its amiable and accomBy Fancy's meteors often led astray,

plished author, only for his personal friends. But And vex'd with hideous dreams.

our apology must be found in the desire to ex

tend this circle--and to treasure up in our pages, III.

in successive issues, the amateur performances of Swift pass the hours, nor ever they return: And so we pass away.

the South. Our purpose is acquisition,-not critiThe glorious orbs hung o'er us high in heaven

cism-from which, of course, an unpublished volume Roll through the paths of space, and glowing, burn,

is always sacred.



Vol. X-54


as to deprive her of sleep ;-proofs of his guilt THE PRIZE TALE.

may be found on his person."

Stephano gazed around in mute astonishment,

as Gian read these words :-he felt how cunning STEPHANO COLONNA, OR LOVE AND LORE.

was the net in which his foes had enveloped him, but he also knew the injustice of the charges, and fiercely demanded.

“ Who are mine accusers? Let them appear, CHAPTER V.

and prove these charges." St. Mark's clock had chimed the midnight hour, Slowly the dark curtain behind the council was and Stephano lay on a luxurious couch dreaming drawn back, and Azzo D'Este and Antonio, the of love and Leonore, when a rude hand shook him fisherman, stepped forth. from that pleasant slumber.

Let his person be searched,” said the Prince. “You are summoned to the tribunal of the State,” | The command was obeyed, and soon the ruby said a harsh voice.

amulet and cabalistic scroll lay on the table before He started up, and after a moment said, “It the ten. must be a mistake, my good friend, I am a stranger “Whence are these, Signor Colonna ?" said in Venice, and but this last evening arrived." Gian.

" Aye, are you not Stephano Colonna of Rome?" “ The amulet I purchased of the great Fabricio, " I am."

and the scroll"“ Then follow; for you I was sent," was the " Aye, what of it?" stern reply.

“ Was given me in the vision of a night, but “ But what is my offence ?"

what it contains I know not, as I was commanded “ Your judges will tell you."

to wait its interpretation; Count Gian himself Stephano knew how vain the effect to elude the wears an amulet !” said he, as he caught the glitter commands and officers of that fearful power which of a cross suspended to a chain, which had fallen held Venice in chains, and be surrendered himself from the Count's bosom, and was beaming against without farther questioning, whilst doubt and fear his dark robe,—“ Is my offence greater ?" reigned in his mind. Without his door, he found “ The cross is a sacred emblem all may wear," twenty other officers in waiting. They immediately said Gian with another scowl. “No magician uses surrounded him, and silently and rapidly proceeded its sacred form." to the ducal palace. When they reached the foot Nay, but priestcraft does, and doubtless his of the “Giant stairs,” the first officer only ascended holiness, the Pope, has blessed that bauble"with him, and through many a winding gallery, and • Beware, rash youth, how you speak lightly of lofty hall they entered that where the council of the power of the church.” ten held their sittings. That room, the theatre of “Far be it from me, I mean but to show that I so many fearful scenes, was hung with black. am not the only one who wears an amulet ;-bet With the same mournful hue the inquisitors, and of bewitching the most beautiful Princess Leonore, the long table before them were clothed. Long I am innocent; lay not this to my charge." waxen tapers burnt before them, casting but a dim “ Three nights ago, I heard your converse with light through the gloomy room. Behind them my child, the Princess Leonore, as ye sat in the stretched the folds of a dark curtain. Every eye balcony behind the eastern lower of my palace in was bent on Stephano, as he fearlessly strode to- Ferrara. I heard thee tell her of the delights of wards them and proudly said,

forbidden lore, and urge her flight with thee te “I am here at your bidding, Signors, but why scenes, where undisturbed ye might together poryou have summoned me, am ignorant.”

sue your uphallowed studies," were the stern words " The State has fitting cause, bold youth," said which now fell on Stephano's ear from the haughty Count Gian, with a dark scowl. First, you are Prince of Ferrara. accused of dealing with the forbidden arts of magic, “You left Venice a week since for Ferrara," said a crime in itself punishable with death ; next, with Gian, “and the night before, you spent on the island laying a spell of witchcraft on Leonore D'Este, of Triptolemus, whence this fisherman brought Princess of Ferrara, depriving her of sleep: this thee." was found to-night within the Lion's mouth. Antonio stood trembling and devoutly crossed

“ Know, Guardians of the State, that one Ste- himself at these words. Stephano answered poi, phano Colonna, a Roman by birth, but now visit- and Gian said, “The charges are proved, and seing your city, is in league with forbidden powers, cording to the laws of Venice, Stephano Colonna is and a week since was brought by one Antonio, a judged"-fisherman, from the accurst isle of Triptolemus, • Beware,” interrupted he,“ how you infia where he had passed the night; he is also charged death thus summarily on a Colonna. Ye know with bewitching Leonore D'Este, of Ferrara, so'well the power of my name, and though by sobele

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arts ye have found cause to accuse me, if I fall,, lock followed, and the officer again stood before my death will not be unavenged."

him to conduct him to the tribunal. Stephano Gian summoned the officer, and said, “Take sprang up with a feeling of thankfulness, for death Stephano to I Pozzi." Stephano was conducted was preferable to that living tomb. Again he stood down a dark and narrow stairway, through a long in the presence of his judges and calmly awaited gloomy gallery to the covered bridge, which leads his sentence-Gian said, across the Rio Palazzo to the State Prison. Here

“For the crimes of which you were accused and the officer unlocked a low door, and bade him enter. found guilty, you deserve death, but in consideraAll was darkness beyond, and Stephano found him tion of your youth, and the services of your illusself standing in water to the depth of two feet. The trious house, it is transmuted to banishment for door was locked behind him, the receding footsteps life. If after six days you are seen in any part of of the officer died away in the distance, and the Italy, your life will be the forfeit.” cavalier was alone in a cell dark, damp and silent as the grave. A faint light now glimmered through words, and thought of Leonore and his bome ; but a

Stephano's cheek grew pale as he heard these a narrow window barred with iron, cut near the smile curled his lip at the craftiness of the sentence. top of this gloomy abode, and Stephano, after some inoments, distinguished a wooden platform raised 'twas fear, ye dared not thus take the life of a

"My youth, and services of my house! Nay, three feet from the floor. On it was a rude straw bed. Colonna," muttered he as he proudly left their preThis was all the cell contained, and Stephano seated himself and pondered over his strange situation. hour found him far out at sea, in a vessel bound

sence and resought his lodgings. The morning Hour after hour wore on, and he heard but the for Rome. On it he found Petro Trono, a young gurgling sound of the waters of the canal as they Roman, and a friend. To him he told his mournpoured through the iron gratings of these dungeons ful story, and charged him to seek the Princess and of horror, and the shriek of madness, or groan of tell her his fate. despair from some fellow prisoner, immured around, above, or below him. Anon, the light grew clearer

“And what course will you take, Stephano ?" through his narrow window, and a far-off hum of

“I know not,” was his melancholy response. many voices and sounds betrayed that day had “ Heaven will guide me, oh! that I might once dawned. Presently, the jailer came, and putting again behold Leonore, but I dare not, Ferrara bedown some water, and miserable broth and bread, longs to Venice, and my greatest foe, the Prince, left him again to solitude.

is there.” Long before the slow-sailing caraval Gradually the light grew dimmer, night's dark- reached Rome the time had expired, and Stephano ness and silence were again around him, as he still dared not land to bid his home farewell. sat on the wooden trestle in sorrow and gloom. The world was then ringing with the intended He had not tasted his wretched food, but huge expedition of the bold Genoese to discover a new water-rats and reptiles were busy over the feast. kingdom for the sovereigns of Arragon and CasDespair possessed his spirit and he laid down on tile. The enthusiastic spirit of Stephano hailed bis pallet of straw with a brain burning with mad- with joy the news of his speedy sailing. Banished ness. At last sleep threw her magic spell over from his home, and her he loved, he determined to him and he dreamed of Leonore and far-off isles of seek a glorious name by attaching himself to this light and bliss. But dread his wakening! A cold expedition. At Rome he found a caraval bound substance touched his hand, and as he opened his for Flanders, and the captain promised to land him eyes a slimy snake crawled off and dropped into the at Palos. He embarked to join the bold advenwater. A loathsome bloated toad clung to the damp turer.

“ Farewell, Pietro,” said he to his friend, wall

, and fixed on him its still and shining eye. He“ remember to seek the Princess and tell her I go longed for the meanest of human kind, for the to seek a name with which Prince Azzo shall be music of the rudest speech ; and now came the ter- proud to claim alliance; bid her be true, and we mble thought that he was immured for life! What had shall yet be happy.” he to hope? He knew the ruthlessness of his judges; He reached Palos the evening before Columbus und was not an enemy of his house his accuser,besides sailed, and seeking that noble and benignant man, ather foes unknown? What would the influence told him his mournful story, and asked permission of his family avail ? He was shut up in a dungeon to accompany him. Columbus had been the vicand they in ignorance, and Leonore,-she might tin of disappointment for 18 years, during which tow be given up to the Count, and in ignorance of time he had endeavored to interest various sovehis fate, and he raved in madness. Another day reigns in his plans without success, and his heart bassed slowly away like its predecessor, his food used to suffering, could sympathize with the sorad again been silently set down by the griin jailer. rows of the disconsolate youth. He gladly received Night again and with it deeper despair, was around him, for few were the hearts that willingly accomlim. But in its darkest hour he heard footsteps panied him in his bold enterprize-the scoff of all upproaching. The harsh grating of a key in the save a few kind hearts and wise heads.

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