emples, form'd but to admit
The souls of god-like men! Emerald and gold
And pink, that softens down the aerial bow,
Are interspersed promiscuously, and form
A concentration of all lovely things!
And far off cities, glittering with the pomp
Of spire and pennon, laugh their joyance up
In the deep flood of light. Sweet comes the tone
Of the touch'd lute from yonder orange bow'rs,
And the shrill cymbal pours its elfin spell
Into the peasant's being!
A sublime
And fervid mind was _his_, whose pencil trac'd
The grandeur of this scene! Oh! matchless Claude!
Around the painter's mastery thou hast thrown
An halo of surpassing loveliness!
Gazing on thy proud works, we mourn the curse
Which 'reft our race of Eden, for from thee,
As from a seraph's wing, we catch the hues
That sunn'd our primal heritage ere sin
Weav'd her dark oracles. With thee, sweet Claude!
_Thee!_ and blind Maeonides would I dwell
By streams that gush out richness; there should be
Tones that entrance, and forms more exquisite
Than throng the sculptor's visions! I would dream
Of gorgeous palaces, in whose lit halls
Repos'd the reverend magi, and my lips
Would pour their spiritual commune 'mid the hush
Of those enchanting groves!

_Deal_.

REGINALD AUGUSTINE.

* * * * *

THE NOVELIST

A LEGEND OF THE HARTZ.

(_For the Mirror_.)

"Still the boar held on his way
Careless through what toils it lay,
Down deep in the tangled dell--
Or o'er the steep rock's pinnacle.
Staunch the steed, and bold the knight
That would follow such a flight!"

The night was fast closing in, and the last retiring beams of the sun
shed a mournful light over an extensive tract of forest bordering upon
the district of the Hartz, just as (but I must not forget the date,
somewhere about the year 1547,) the Baron Rudolf found himself in the
very disagreeable predicament of having totally lost his companions and
his way, amidst an almost interminable region of forest and brushwood.
"Hans," addressing himself to his noble steed, "my old veteran, I must
trust to thee, since thy master's wit is at a stand, to extricate us
from this dilemma."

The animal finding his head free, moved forward as fast as bush and
brake would permit him. They had proceeded in this way for half an hour
longer, when the Baron at last bethought himself of his bugle, and