The tempest, in its blackest form,
Is beauty to the bosom's storm;
The ocean, lashed to fury loud,
Its high wave mingling with the cloud,
Is peaceful, sweet serenity
To Passion's dark and boundless sea.
There sleeps no calm, there smiles no rest,
When storms are warring in the breast;
There is no moment of repose
In bosoms lashed by hidden woes;
The scorpion-sting the fury rears,
And every trembling fibre tears;
The vulture preys with bloody beak
Upon the heart that can but break!
THE RESTORATION OF ISRAEL.
MOUNTAINS of Israel! rear on high
Your summits, crowned with verdure new,
And spread your branches to the sky,
Refulgent with celestial dew.
O'er Jordan's stream, of gentle flow,
And Judah's peaceful valleys, smile,
And far reflect the lovely glow
Where Ocean's waves incessant toil.
See where the scattered tribes return!
Their slavery is burst at length,
And purer flames to Jesus burn,
And Zion girds on her new strength :
New cities bloom along the plain,
New temples to JEHOVAH rise,
The kindling voice of praise again
Pours its sweet anthems to the skies.
The fruitful fields again are blest,
And yellow harvests smile around; Sweet scenes of heavenly joy and rest, Where peace and innocence are found. The bloody sacrifice no more
Shall smoke upon the altars high,— But ardent hearts, from hill to shore, Send grateful incense to the sky!
The jubilee of man is near,
When earth, as heaven, shall own His reign;
He comes to wipe the mourner's tear,
And cleanse the heart from sin and pain. Praise Him, ye tribes of Israel, praise
The King that ransomed you from woe:
Nations, the hymn of triumph raise,
And bid the song of rapture flow!
'VE o'er our path is stealing fast;
Yon quivering splendours are the last
The sun will fling, to tremble o'er
The waves that kiss the opposing shore;
His latest glories fringe the height
Behind us with their golden light.
The mountain's mirrored outline fades
Amid the fast-extending shades;
Its shaggy bulk, in sterner pride,
Towers, as the gloom steals o'er the tide;
For the great stream a bulwark meet
That leaves its rock-encumbered feet.
River and mountain! though to song
Not yet, perchance, your names belong,
Those who have loved your evening hues
Will ask not the recording Muse
What antique tales she can relate,
Your banks and steeps to consecrate.
Yet, should the stranger ask what lore
Of by-gone days this winding shore,
Yon cliffs and fir-clad steeps could tell,
If vocal made by Fancy's spell,-
The varying legend might rehearse
Fit themes for high, romantic verse.
O'er yon rough heights and moss-clad sod,
Oft hath the stalworth warrior trod;
Or peered, with hunter's gaze, to mark
The progress of the glancing bark.
Spoils, strangely won on distant waves,
Have lurked in yon obstructed caves.
When the great strife for Freedom rose,
Here scouted oft her friends and foes,
Alternate, through the changeful war,
And beacon-fires flashed bright and far;
And here, when Freedom's strife was won,
Fell, in sad feud, her favoured son ;-
-the second of the band,
The Romans of the rescued land.
Where round yon capes the banks ascend,
Long shall the pilgrim's footsteps bend;
There, mirthful hearts shall pause to sigh,
There, tears shall dim the patriot's eye.
There last he stood. Before his sight
Flowed the fair river, free and bright;
The rising mart, and isles, and bay,
Before him in their glory lay-
Scenes of his love and of his fame-
The instant ere the death-shot came.
THE GREEN ISLE OF LOVERS.
HEY say that, afar in the land of the West,
Where the bright golden sun sinks in glory to rest,
Mid fens where the hunter ne'er ventured to tread,
A fair lake, unruffled and sparkling, is spread;
Where, lost in his course, the rapt Indian discovers,
In distance seen dimly, the green Isle of Lovers.
There verdure fades never; immortal in bloom,
Soft waves the magnolia its groves of perfume;
And low bends the branch with rich fruitage depressed,
All glowing like gems in the crowns of the East;
There the bright eye of Nature in mild glory hovers:
'Tis the land of the sunbeam-the green Isle of Lovers!
Sweet strains wildly float on the breezes that kiss
The calm-flowing lake round that region of bliss,
Where, wreathing their garlands of amaranth, fair choirs
Glad measures still weave to the sound that inspires
The dance and the revel, mid forests that cover
On high with their shade the green Isle of the Lover.
But fierce as the snake, with his eyeballs of fire,
When his scales are all brilliant and glowing with ire,
Are the warriors to all, save the maids of their isle,
Whose law is their will, and whose life is their smile;
From beauty there valour and strength are not rovers,
And peace reigns supreme in the green Isle of Lovers.
And he who has sought to set foot on its shore,
In mazes perplexed, has beheld it no more;
It fleets on the vision, deluding the view→
Its banks still retire as the hunters pursue :
Oh! who in this vain world of woe shall discover
The home undisturbed, the green Isle of the Lover?
OD of the earth's extended plains!
The dark, green fields contented lie;
The mountains rise like holy towers,
Where man might commune with the sky;
The tall cliff challenges the storm
That lowers upon the vale below,
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