"Well!-how, unknown, shall we admittance gain To this chaste Juno's dome, and worship at her fane ?" "Nay,―would my sovereign doff his regal dress, And take a meaner garb, and feign distress.

66

"

Agreed-it likes me well-the thought is good-
'Tis frolicksome, and I'm in sportive mood."
Awhile their purpose gives a thoughtless birth
To futile laughter, and time-wasting mirth.

IV.

Disguised as one a fief to Fortune's frown,
To all, except his confidant, unknown,

The king to IDA wends. At length in clouds
Its awful head the rock tremendous shrouds.
HAIL! sacred IDA-birth-place of great Jove-
Oft visited divinely from above;

Thy wild Dictean caves, and verdant plains,
Have to thee consecrate the Muse's strains;
Thy holy grotto where his early day
The sire of gods passed actively away,

Where yet mysterious stands his unseen throne,
Or each ninth year by Minos seen alone;
When thither came the judge, on import high,
To the impartial God of earth and sky,

Firm justice there in secret to review,

And the famed Tables of the Law renew.

Thee Ide, thy Cave, thy Grot, thy shadowy Throne, I hail with holy awe, and trembling tone;

Haply in ancient song of more renown,

Yet to the young untutored bard unknown ;
But still he hopes that, on some happier day,
He shall be read in every olden lay-
The greenwood on thy sacred summit grows,
Adown thy side delicious malmsey* flows.
-Sacred and fair, oh, Ide! I've sung of thee;
Lo, ANTILISTOS cometh, and they flee:
The initiate bard can cull no sweets for song,
Where virtue falls before the power of wrong.
If tigers roam, though not in quest of prey,
Yet, should some victim lie athwart their way,
Their savage nature stirs them up to slay-
Such mischief lurks at Ida's giant foot,
But free from theft when unprovoked by fruit.
A prince degenerate-slave of every ill-
Who wields his power to wreak his froward will;
Who sternly sways fair Candia's fertile plains,
And trammels Freedom with despotic chains.

* We hope not too violent a metonomy.

Nursed by the pleasures that unman the soul,
His discipline of action they control;
Reckless he reigns of all his regal care,

Unheard ascends his suffering people's prayer;
Oh, Heaven! can aught but ill from him proceed?
Will Worth's mute voice his favor boot to plead?
Who scarcely knows her name, much less her form,
And deems her but a vapour in a storm;

Vision of days gone by-a future trance—
Phrensy-hypocrisy—or ignorance.

V.

But other task demands the present strain-
For lo, the monarch and his guide attain,
Where smiles Aristes' dwelling o'er the plain,
In lowly vale at Mountain Ida's foot,
Is reared the good man's hospitable cot.
No awful arches grace its simple state,
Nor pride of art to speak the owner great;
The charms of Nature but adorn the scene,
High-spreading trees, and flowery lawns between,
With glistening prospects, pleasurable glades,
Song-breathing bowers, and noon.impervious shades ;
And emerald groves with all their golden fruit,
And streams of silver music never mute.
No splendid domes obstruct the distant sight,
Bereaving Phoebus of his perfect light;
But Heaven appears an ambient canopy,
Wide, without confine, without limit, high.
There the young muse, the bard and sage invites,
And wandering Fancy there to rove delights:
But, above all, there is the favorite seat
Of calm content-the halcyon of retreat!
The virtuous dwelling to the monarch shewn-
Lo, he approached the open gate alone ;-
Saw by his hearth that hospitable One,
Seated between Sabina and his Son,

Reading old Homer's tale of Ilión,

While through their souls the solemn feeling ran ;

His purpose recollected, then began:

And roused Aristes of the placid look,

With voice of exclamation, from his book;

'Twas Sorrow's voice of sighs!

As to a level gushing waters roll,

Aristes' soul,

To soothe Affliction's children, aye would speed,
Bound, like the hart, to aid the son of need;
He saw the supplicant, and hasten'd straight,
To welcome him within his open gate.
The gladness of his heart was in his face:
Sabina caught the smile; the smile the place,

And brightened with the hospitable smile;
Reflects the glow the filial look the while.
Illumines, thus, the sun's refulgent ray
The earth, diffusing far the rosy day;
Its magic light discloses to the view

The breathing world, and gives it all its hue:
The stream reflects the flame-the sovereign fire
Doth with delight the soul of man inspire.
The bounteous board is for the stranger spread,
And heaped amain with hospitable bread.

VI.

As one who just beholds unwonted light,
Or an Immortal in her glory dight,
The monarch stood Sabina thus before,
In doubt if what he saw he should adore.
Oh, fair Sabina ! now thy charms impart
A fire whose flames are of the heart-the heart
Which proudly murmurs in its sudden trance,
And gathers fiercer phrenzy every glance.
Her eyes and blushes mingle snow and fire,
That check-excite,-altern-the bad desire.
He was a cloud, that, while the fields were bright,
Frowned o'er the sun, and blasted the delight.
Anon he turned away.
Within his soul,
As Phlegethon, Thought's burning torrents roll:
Green lust, and every demon passion smiled,
To note renewed the obedience of their child;
For, like their child, he yielded to their sway,
Whom, as a god, a kingdom must obey.

Aristes, to his cause of trouble blind,
Deeming it offspring of his fate unkind,
Resumed discourse to soothe the stranger's mind.
Then interposed Sabina: every word

Was like sweet melody in childhood heard;
Her very soul was tenderness and faith,

And where she loved poured forth in every breath;
And on her lord she glanced her dark bright eyes;
Her hand he pressed, and tenderly replies.
And converse then ensued, whose sum of bliss
Blends an Elysium of all sympathies,
Dulcetly vocal-and from heart to heart,
Through the domestic circle, words impart
The heart's own faithful electricity;

Flushing the cheek, and flashing in the eye,
Kindling a thousand feelings-and all Truth's-
The father's, and the mother's, and the youth's-
Words-feelings-and all virtue's: such as THOU,
ASTREA! once on earth, forsaken now,

Heard in thy happy reign, and also felt,
And uttered in thy happiness, and dealt
To a glad world, that breathed of love alone-
Such as thou utterest now from thy still throne,
And solitary, in the zodiac, whence

Thou look'st upon this spot of strife and sense,
And mourn'st-and speak'st in indignation then,
Stern arbitress of actions and of men!

To thee-to thee-I dedicate this strain-
My heart-my soul-thy temple and thy fane!
Muse-wafted to the mountain and the stream,
I look to thee, and wrestle with the theme:
Though young, yet resolute,—if weak, yet strong
In hope, and burning for a name of song,
Sacred to thee and thine, whose music is
(If such is blended, or may be, with this,)
The rite wherewith I, thy true priest, prepare
To incense Thee within thy starry sphere!

Blest were I, should my pupil pen avail, To teach Aristes' virtues by this tale, And so, one step, Astrea's reign restore, And poise the balance, as it was of yore, When Justice held the beam,-that age of gold, Writ in Time's book, whose pages are all told.

VII.

Aristes! though so hospitably kind,
Thou warmest one, the venom of whose mind
Resolves, in Tarquin lust, to seize away
From thy true arms thy true Lucretia.
Can this be kingly? How shall I compare
Such degradation from so high a sphere,
Where, like a god, he might exist, and rise
To all the joy and glory of the skies,
Utter the doom to virtue and to vice,
Control the bad, and bid the good rejoice?
'Tis as the sun should leave his azure height,
To illumine the regions of infernal night;
As if a god should heavenly pleasures change
For the terrestrial lust-polluted range!
But he, regardless of his station high,
Unrivalled, save by Jove's supremacy-
To gain the prize-he deemed no purchase dear,
Not even ruin, for it seemed so fair.

E'en thus the traveller, who, with pains enow,
Wearied and spent, attains the rugged brow
Of the high rocks, which clip Lake Bergen round,
Silent, transparent, motionless, profound,

-And by those giant forms from day concealed,
But to nocturnal radiances revealed,-
Whose fatal peaks the very birds avoid,
Lest the calm depth allure them, self-destroyed-
Looks from the cliffs projecting waste and brown
Upon the fascinant wild of waters down;
Stands o'er the mirror with suspended breath,
Then seeks the heaven below, and finds it-death.

Fleet Time to Evening flies, and now hath past;
Night o'er the world her sable mantle cast-
Now glows the Crescent 'mid her starry train,
To guide the shipman o'er the devious main.
Just twinkles many a star, and hides its head,
Then tricks its beams, and darts into its bed.
A yellow livery clothes the deep'ning woods,
And not a breeze disturbs the silent floods.
The concave, through the lattice partly seen,
With azure and with gold glows lovely and serene.

*

*

Song-charm'd, retired, on all, except the guest,
Sleep wav'd his airy wand of care-untroubled rest.

I. A. H.

ON THE

RELATIVE QUALITIES OF A BRILLIANT IMAGINATION AND A CORRECT JUDGMENT.

WHATEVER be the nature of the thinking Principle,—be it a single power, acting in different modes; or composed of various powers, each acting in its own peculiar sphere,-the phenomena are the same in result. Every human being, properly organized, possesses a capacity to receive and combine mental images. There is a power not merely capable of receiving simple impressions of an individual nature, but the faculty of forming, from two classes of objects or qualities, a third species, which exists only in the mind, and not in external reality. This capacity we denominate the IMAGI