The Genius of our clime, From his pine-embattled steep, Shall hail the great sublime; While the Tritons of the deep The rush-roof of an aged warrior rose, A glen beneath-a lonely spot of rest- Amid the clear blue light are wandering by; With their conchs the kindred league shall The humming-bird, along the myrtle bowers, proclaim; With twinkling wing is spinning o'er the flowers; The woodpecker is heard with busy bill, The tumult of its dashing falls suspends, Shine to the adverse sun the broken rainbow hues, Checkering with partial shade, the beams of noon, And arching the gray rock with wild festoon, The sunshine darts its interrupted light, And the pearl-shells spangle the flinty snow; For the winds and waves are absent there, And the sands are as bright as the stars that glow In the motionless fields of upper air. And the yellow and scarlet tufts of ocean The fan-coral sweeps through the clear, deep Through the bending twigs of the coral grove. ROAD plains, blue waters, hills and val- Brown-pillared groves and green-arched alleys, B1 leys, That ring with anthems of the free, That Freedom's holiest temples be! These forest aisles are full of story; Here many a one of old renown Historic names forever greet us, Where'er our wandering way we thread; Familiar forms and faces meet us, As, living, walk with us the dead. Links here with thoughts and things that And all the bright and teeming Present AN ENGLISH MANSION. HEY halted to bait their horses at a little village on the main coast of the Palatinate, and then pursued their course leisurely through a rich and level country, until the groves of Grypherwast received them amidst all the breathless splendour of a noble sunset. It would be difficult to express the emotions with which young Reginald regarded, for the first time, the ancient demesne of his race. The scene was one which a stranger, of years and experience very superior to his, might have been pardoned for contemplating with some enthusiasm, but to him the first glimpse of the venerable front, embosomed amidst its "Old contemporary trees," was the more than realization of cherished dreams. Involuntarily he drew in his rein, and the whole party as involuntarily following the motion, they approached the gateway together at the slowest pace. The gateway is almost in the heart of the village, for the hall of Grypherwast had been reared long before English gentlemen conceived it to be a point of dignity to have no humble roofs near their own. A beautiful stream runs hard by, and the hamlet is almost within the arms of the princely forest, whose ancient oaks, and beeches, and gigantic pine-trees, darken and ennoble the aspect of the whole surrounding region. The peasantry, who watch the flocks and herds in those deep and grassy glades-the fishermen, who draw their subsistence from the clear waters of the river-and the woodmen, whose axes resound all day long among the inexhaustible thickets, are the sole inhabitants of the simple place. Over their cottages the hall of Grypherwast has predominated for many long centuries, a true old northern manorhouse, not devoid of a certain magnificence in its general aspect, though making slender pretentions to anything like elegance in its details. The central tower, square, massy, rude, and almost destitute of windows, recalls the knightly and troubled period of the old Border wars; while the overshadowing roofs, carved balconies and multifarious chimneys scattered over the rest of the building, attest the successive influence of many more or less tasteful generations. Excepting in the original baronial tower, the upper parts of the house are all formed of oak, but this with such an air of strength and solidity as might well shame many modern structures raised of better materials. Nothing could be more perfectly in harmony with the whole character of the place than the autumnal brownness of the stately trees around. The same descending rays were tinging with rich lustre the outlines of their bare trunks, and the projecting edges of the old-fashioned bay-windows which they sheltered; and some rooks of very old family were cawing overhead almost in the midst of the hospitable smoke-wreaths. Within a couple of yards from the door of the house an eminently respectable-looking old man, in a powdered wig and very rich livery of blue and scarlet, was sitting on a garden-chair with a pipe in his mouth, and a cool tankard within his reach upon the ground. JOHN GIBSON LOCKHART. For men may come and men may go, But I go on forever. I wind about, and in and out, And here and there a foamy flake With many a silvery water-break And draw them all along, and flow I steal by lawns and grassy plots, I move the sweet forget-me-nots I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance, I murmur under moon and stars I linger by my shingly bars, And out again I curve and flow ALFRED TENNYSON. A SUMMER SABBATH WALK. ELIGHTFUL is this loneliness; it calms My heart; pleasant the cool beneath these elms, That throw across the streams a moveless shade. Here Nature in her midnoon whisper speaks; How peaceful every sound! the ring-dove's plaint, Moaned from the twilight center of the grove, ed nest, And from the root-sprig trills her ditty clear; The grasshopper's oft-pausing chirp; the buzz, |