waters yawning before, they passed from existence, a fearful mass of human life,
"Unknelled, uncoffined, and unknown."
Ex. CCVII-SOLILOQUY OF THE DYING ALCHEMIST.
THE night wind with a desolate moan swept by;
And the old shutters of the turret swung,
Creaking upon their hinges; and the moon,
As the torn edges of the clouds flew past,
Struggled aslant the stained and broken panes
So dimly, that the watchful eye of death
Scarcely was conscious when it went and came.
The fire beneath his crucible was low;
Yet still it burned; and ever as his thoughts
Grew insupportable, he raised himself
Upon his wasted arm, and stirred the coals
With difficult energy, and when the rod
Fell from his nerveless fingers, and his eye
Felt faint within its socket, he shrunk back
Upon his pallet, and with unclosed lips
Muttered a curse on death!
From its dim corners, mockingly gave back
His rattling breath; the humming in the fire
Had the distinctness of a knell; and when
Duly the antique horologe beat one,
He drew a phial from beneath his head,
And drank. And instantly his lips compressed,
And, with a shudder in his skeleton frame,
He rose with supernatural strength, and sat
Upright, and communed with himself:-
I did not think to die
Till I had finished what I had to do;
I thought to pierce th' eternal secret through
With this my mortal eye;
I felt, O God! it seemeth even now
This can not be the death-dew on my brow!
Of this dull sickness at my heart, afraid;
And in my eyes the death-sparks flash and fade;
And something seems to steal
Over my bosom like a frozen hand,—
Binding its pulses with an icy band.
And this is death! But why
Feel I this wild recoil? It can not be
Th' immortal spirit shuddereth to be free:
Would it not leap to fly
Like a chained eaglet at its parent's call?
I fear, I fear,—that this poor life is all!
Yet thus to pass away!—
To live but for a hope that mocks at last,-
To agonize, to strive, to watch, to fast,
To waste the light of day,
Night's better beauty, feeling, fancy, thought,
All that we have and are,-for this,-for naught!
Grant me another year,
God of my spirit!-but a day,-to win
Something to satisfy this thirst within!
I would know something here!
Break for me but one seal that is unbroken!
Speak for me but one word that is unspoken!
Vain,-vain !—my brain is turning
With a swift dizziness, and my heart grows sick,
And these hot temple-throbs come fast and thick,
And I am freezing,-burning,-
Dying! O God! if I might only live!
My phial- -Ha! it thrills me,-I revive.
Aye, were not man to die,
He were too mighty for this narrow sphere!
Had he but time to brood on knowledge here,—
Could he but train his eye,—
Might he but wait the mystic word and hour,-
Only his Maker would transcend his power!
Earth has no mineral strange,
Th' illimitable air no hidden wings,—
Water no quality in covert springs,
And fire no power to change,-
Seasons no mystery, and stars no spell,
Which the unwasting soul might not compel.
Oh, but for time to track
The upper stars into the pathless sky,-
To see th' invisible spirits, eye to eye,—
To hurl the lightning back,-
To tread unhurt the sea's dim-lighted halls,-
To chase day's chariot to the horizon-walls,—
And more, much more,-for now
The life-sealed fountains of my nature move,—
To nurse and purify this human love,—
To clear the godlike brow
Of weakness and mistrust, and bow it down
Worthy and beautiful, to the much-loved one,-
This were indeed to feel
The soul-thirst slaken at the living stream,-
To live, O God! that life is but a dream!
And death- -Aha! I reel,-
Dim,-dim,-I faint,
Cover me! save me!-
-darkness comes o'er my eye,— God of heaven! I die!
'T was morning, and the old man lay alone.
No friend had closed his eyelids, and his lips,
Open and ashy pale, th' expression wore
Of his death-struggle. His long silvery hair
Lay on his hollow temples thin and wild,
His frame was wasted, and his features wan
And haggard as with want, and in his palm
His nails were driven deep, as if the throe
Of the last agony had wrung him sore.
The storm was raging still. The shutter swung
Creaking as harshly in the fitful wind,
And all without went on,—as aye it will,
Sunshine or tempest, reckless that a heart
Is breaking, or has broken, in its change.
The fire beneath the crucible was out;
The vessels of his mystic art lay round,
Useless and cold as the ambitious hand
That fashioned them, and the small rod,
Familiar to his touch for threescore years,
Lay on th' alembic's rim, as if it still
Might vex the elements at its master's will.
And thus had passed from its unequal frame
A soul of fire, a sun-bent eagle stricken
From his high soaring down,-an instrument
Broken with its own compass. 0, how
poor
Seems the rich gift of genius, when it lies,
Like the adventurous bird that hath out-flown
His strength upon the sea, ambition-wrecked,-
A thing the thrush might pity, as she sits
Brooding in quiet on her lowly nest.
Ex. CCVIII.-THE MAIN TRUCK, OR A LEAP FOR LIFE.
OLD Ironsides at anchor lay
In the harbor of Mahon;
A dead calm rested on the bay,-
The waves to sleep had gone;
When little Hal, the captain's son,
A lad both brave and good,
In sport, up shroud and rigging ran,
And on the main truck stood!
A shudder shot through every vein,-
All eyes were turned on high!
There stood the boy, with dizzy brain,
Between the sea and sky;
No hold had he above, below;
Alone he stood in air:
To that far height none dared to go ;—
No aid could reach him there.
We gazed, but not a man could speak
With horror all aghast,
In groups, with pallid brow and cheek,
We watched the quivering mast.
The atmosphere grew thick and hot,
And of a lurid hue ;-
As riveted unto the spot,
Stood officers and crew.
The father caine on deck :-he gasped,
"Oh God! thy will be done!"
Then suddenly a rifle grasped,
And aimed it at his son:
Jump, far out, boy, into the wave!
Jump, or I fire!" he said;
"That only chance your life can save!
Jump, jump, boy !" He obeyed.
He sunk,-he rose, he lived,―he moved,-
And for the ship struck out;
On board, we hailed the lad beloved,
With many a manly shout.
His father drew, in silent joy,
Those wet arms round his neck-
Then folded to his heart his boy,
And fainted on the deck.
Ir having been announced to me, my young friends, that you were about forming a fire-company, I have called you together to give you such directions as long experience in a first quality engine company qualifies me to communicate. The moment you hear an alarm of fire, scream like a pair of panthers. Run any way, except the right way,-for the furthest way round is the nearest way to the fire. If you happen to run on the top of a wood-pile, so much the better; you can then get a good view of the neighborhood. If a light breaks on your view, "break" for it immediately; but be sure you do n't jump into a bow window. Keep yelling, all the time; and, if you can 't make night hideous enough yourself, kick all the dogs you come across, and set them yelling, too; 't will help amazingly. A brace of cats dragged up stairs by the tail would be a "powerful auxiliary." When you reach the scene of the fire, do all you can to convert it into a scene of destruction. Tear down all the fences in the vicinity. If it be a chimney on fire, throw salt down.it; or, if you can't do that, perhaps the best plan would be to jerk off the pump-handle and pound it down. Don't forget to yell, all the while, as it will have a prodigious effect in fright
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