THE ADORATION OF THE WISE MEN.

A COMET, dangling in the air,

Presaged the ruin both of death and sin;
And told the wise men of a king,
The King of glory, and the Sun
Of righteousness, who then begun
To draw towards that blessèd hemisphere.
They, from the farthest east, this new
And unknown light pursue,

Till they appear

In this blest infant King's propitious eye,
And pay their homage to His royalty.
Persia might then the rising sun adore;
It was idolatry no more.

Great God, they gave to Thee
Myrrh, frankincense, and gold:

But Lord, with what shall we

Present ourselves before Thy majesty,
Whom Thou redeem'dst when we were sold:
Vile dirt and clay?

Yet it is soft, and may

Impression take;

Accept it, Lord, and say, this Thou hadst rather;

Stamp it, and on this sordid metal make

Thy holy image, and it shall outshine.

The beauty of the golden mine.

ANDREW MARVELL.

BORN A.D. 1620; DIED A.D. 1678.

ANDREW MARVELL was the son of a clergyman of the same name at Hull. Having completed his university education at Trinity College, Cambridge, he went abroad, and spent some years in foreign travel. On his return to England, in 1657, he became assistant to John Milton in his office of Latin Secretary. On the Restoration he was elected member of Parliament for Hull, and continued to be so till his death, nearly thirty years after. He was distinguished by the boldness of his satires and other writings in opposition to the supporters of arbitrary government, and by the inflexible integrity which enabled him to resist, though in needy circumstances, all the solicitations and bribes of his political opponents. We have but little of his poetry remaining, but enough has come down to us to show that he is entitled to a high place among our minor English Poets.

THE EMIGRANTS.

WHERE the remote Bermudas ride,
In ocean's bosom unespied,

From a small boat that rowed along,
The list'ning winds received this song.

"What should we do, but sing His praise
That led us through the watery maze,
Unto an isle so long unknown,
And yet far kinder than our own?

"Where He the huge sea-monsters racks,
That lift the deep upon their backs,

He lands us on a grassy stage,

Safe from the storms and prelates' rage.

"He gave us this eternal spring
Which here enamels everything,
And sends the fowls to us in care,
On daily visits through the air.

"He hangs in shades the orange bright, Like golden lamps in a green night. And does in the pomegranates close Jewels more rich than Ormus shows.

"He makes the figs our mouths to meet,
And throws the melons at our feet;
But apples plants of such a price,
No tree could ever bear them twice.

"With cedars chosen by His hand
From Lebanon, He stores the land.
And makes the hollow seas that roar
Proclaim the ambergris on shore.

"He cast (of which we rather boast)
The Gospel pearl upon our coast.
And in these rocks for us did frame
A temple, where to sound His name.

"Oh let our voice His praise exalt
Till it arrive at heaven's vault,
Which thence perhaps, rebounding may,
Echo beyond the Mexique bay."

Thus sang they, in the English boat,

A holy and a cheerful note,
And all the way, to guide their chime,
With falling oars they kept the time.