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Ye headlong torrents, rapid and profound;
Ye softer floods, that lead the humid maze
Along the vale; and thou, majestic main,
A secret world of wonders in thyself,

Sound His stupendous praise,-whose greater voice
Or bids you roar, or bids your roaring fall.

Soft roll your incense, herbs, and fruits, and flowers,
In mingled clouds to Him, whose sun exalts,
Whose breath perfumes you, and whose pencil paints.

8. Ye forests, bend; ye harvests, wave to Him;
Breathe your still song into the reaper's heart,
As home he goes beneath the joyous moon.
Ye that keep watch in heaven, as earth asleep
Unconscious lies, effuse your mildest beams,
Ye constellations, while your angels strike,
Amid the spangled sky, the silver lyre.
Great Source of day! best image here below
Of thy Creator, ever pouring wide,
From world to world, the vital ocean round,
On Nature write with every beam His praise.

9. The thunder rolls; (p.) be hushed the prostrate world; While cloud to cloud returns the solemn hymn.

Bleat out afresh, ye hills; ye mossy rocks
Retain the sound; the broad responsive low,
Ye valleys, raise; for the Great Shepherd reigns,
And His unsuffering kingdom yet will come.
Ye woodlands, all awake; a boundless song
Burst from the groves; and, when the restless day,
Expiring, lays the warbling world asleep,
Sweetest of birds! sweet Philomela, charm
The listening shades, and teach the night His pra.se.

10. Ye chief, for whom the whole creation smiles; At once the head, the heart, and tongue of all,

Crown the great hymn! in swarming cities vast.
Assembled men to the deep organ join

The long resounding voice, oft breaking clear,
At solemn pauses, through the swelling bass;
And, as each mingling flame increases each,
In one united ardor rise to heaven.

Or, if you rather choose the rural shade,
And find a fane in every sacred grove,
There let the shepherd's flute, the virgin's lay,
The prompting seraph, and the poet's lyre,
Still sing the God of Seasons as they roll.

11. For me, when I forget the darling theme,
Whether the blossom blows, the Summer ray
Russets the plain, inspiring Autumn gleams,
Or Winter rises in the blackening east--
Be my tongue mute, my fancy p int no more,
And, dead to joy, forget my heart to beat.

12. Should fate command me to the farthest verge Of the green earth, to distant barbarous climes, Rivers unknown to song,-where first the sun Gilds Indian mountains, or his setting beam Flames on the Atlantic isles, 't is naught to me; Since God is ever present, ever felt,

In the void waste as in the city full;

And where He vital breathes, there must be joy.

13. When e'en at last the solemn hour shall come,
And wing my mystic flight to future worlds,
I cheerful will obey; there, with new powers,
Will rising wonders sing. I can not go
Where Universal Love not smiles around,
Sustaining all yon orbs, and all their suns;
From seeming evil still educing good,
And better thence again and better still,

In infinite progression. But I lose

Myself in Him, in Light ineffable!
Come, then, expressive silence, muse his praise.

EXERCISE CXV.

A REMARKABLE INCIDENT.

DE QUINCEY

1. During a residence upon Ulleswater (winter of 1800,) it was, that a very remarkable incident befell Miss Smith. I have heard it often mentioned, and sometimes with a slight variety of circumstances; but I here repeat it from an account drawn up by Miss Smith herself, who was most literally exact and faithful to the truth in all reports of her own personal experience.

2. There is, on the western side of Ulleswater, a fine cataract, (or, in the language of the country, a force,) known by the name of Airey Force, and it is of importance enough, especially in rainy seasons, to attract numerous visitors from among "the Lakers." Thither, with some purpose of sketching, not the whole scene, but some picturesque features of it, Mis Smith had gone, quite unaccompanied.

". The road to it lies through Gobarrow Park, and it was usal, at that time, to take a guide from the family of the Duke of Norfolk's keeper, who lived in Lyulph's Tower,—a solitary hunting lodge, built by his Grace for the purposes of an annual visit which he used to pay his estates in that part of England. She, however, thinking herself sufficiently familiar with the localities, had declined to encumber her motions with such an attendant; consequently she was alone.

4. For half an hour, or more, she continued to ascend; and, being a good "cragswoman," from the experience she had won in Wales, as well as in northern England, she had reached an altitude much beyond what would generally be thought corresponding to the time. The path had vanishca

altogether, but she continued to pick out one for herself among the stones, sometimes receding from the force, some times approaching it, according to the openings allowed by the scattered masses of rock.

5. Pressing forward in this hurried way, and never looking back, all at once she found herself in a little stony chamber, from which there was no egress possible in advance. She stopped and looked up. There was a frightful silence in the air. She felt a sudden palpitation at her heart, and a pani from she knew not what. Turning, however, hastily, she soon wound herself out of this aerial dungeon; but by steps so rapid and agitated, that at length, on looking round, she found herself standing at the brink of a chasm, frightful to look down.

6. That way, it was clear enough, all retreat was impossible; but, on turning round, retreat seemed, in every di rection alike, even more impossible. Down the chasm, at least, she might have leaped, though with little or no chance of escaping with life; but, on all other quarters, it seemed to her eye, that, at no price, could she effect an exit, since the rocks stood round her in a semicircus, all lofty, all perpendicular, all glazed with trickling water, or smooth as polished porphyry.

7. Yet how, then, had she reached the point? The same track, if she could hit that track, would surely secure her esсаре. Round and round she walked; gazed with almost despairing eyes; her breath came thicker and thicker; for path she could not trace by which it was possible for her to have entered. Finding herself grow more and more confused, and every instant nearer to sinking into some fainting fit or convulsion, she resolved to sit down, and turn her thoughts quietly into some less exciting channel.

8. This she did; gradually recovered some self-possession, and then suddenly a thought rose up to her, that she was in the hands of God, and that he would not forsake her. But immediately came a second and reproving thought that this

confidence in God's protection might have been justified, had she been ascending the rocks upon any mission of duty; but what right could she have to any providential deliverance, who had been led thither in a spirit of levity and carelessness? I am here giving her view of the case; for, as to myself, I fear greatly, that, if her steps were erring ones, it is but seldom indeed, that the rest of us can pretend to be treading upon ight paths.

9. Once again she rose, and, supporting herself upon a little sketching-stool that folded up into a stick, she looked upward, in the hope that some shepherd might, by chance, be wander. ing in those aerial regions; but nothing could she see, except the tall birches growing at the brink of the highest summits, and the clouds slowly sailing overhead. Suddenly, however, as she swept the whole circuit of her station with her alarmed eye, she saw clearly, about two hundred yards beyond her own position, a lady, in a white muslin morning robe, such as were then universally worn by young ladies until dinnertime.

10. The lady beckoned with a gesture and in a manner that, in a moment, gave her confidence to advance,—how, she could not guess, but, in some way that baffled all power to retrace it, she found instantaneously the outlet which previously had escaped her. She continued to advance toward the lady, whom now, in the same moment, she found to be standing upon the other side of the force, and, also, to be her own sister.

11. How, or why that young lady, whom she had left at home, earnestly occupied with her own studies, should have followed and overtaken her, filled her with perplexity. But this was no situation for putting questions; for the guiding sister began to descend, and, by a few simple gestures, just serving to indicate when Miss Elizabeth was to approach, and when to leave the brink of the torrent, she gradually led her down to a platform of rock, from which the further descent was safe and conspicuous.

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