ight is his death--which erst began
When Sin began to reign.
Dark, spectral Night! I sing of thee;
For, thou art lovely, too--
And Death will wake the melody
Of him whose life was true.
To walk upon the azure sea,
It is a thing of bliss;
When skies are bright, and sails are free
And smiling wavelets kiss.
How grandly leans the ship, a queen,
Above the sparkling tide--
With joy she walks the watery scene,
A thing of fear and pride.
To scale the crown of vast Blue Ridge,
And eye the world below--
Farm--river--ravine--wiry bridge--
And soaring crane and crow--
And misty woods--and fields afar--
Neat villages and towns--
Blest herds and flocks no beast can mar,
That nibble sunny downs.
Oh! that is, sure, a pleasant thing,
And bathes the soul in joy;
And many a grief-worn man 'twould bring,
To be once more a boy.
'Tis sweet to rove, at twilight dim,
Beside an aldered stream,
To list thy lady's evening hymn,
'Neath starlight's trembling gleam.
'Tis sweet to sit within a bower,
Inwrought with flower and vine,
What time along yon mountain tower,
The shades of eve decline.
'Tis sweet to hear the nightingale,
O'erflow the forest shade,
With harmony which might avail,
To win a Dis-stole maid.
'Twere sweet to cleave the snowy foam,
With ship and spirit free,
Where tropic spices ever roam,
The Caribbean sea.
'Twere sweet to sail by Yemen's shore,
And touch that golden strand,
Where Indus' river wanders o'er,
Its glittering, golden sand.
Oh! Nature! thou art far above,
The painter's, Poet's pride--
Thou art the glorious Child of Love--
Adorned a heavenly bride.

YORKTOWN.

Here met three nations, panoplied for fight,
Moving before the vision gorgeously;
Then shamed with Battle's gloom the paling Night,
Upon the land and sea.

Earth quailed beneath the cannon's burrowing roar,
Beneath three Armies' slow and ominous tread;
And Ocean who the portioned conflict bore,
Shuddered with pain and dread.

But when the morning rolled the double shroud
Of Night and Battle from the land and sea,
The Sun looked forth through no obstructing cloud,
And saw a Nation FREE.

POET'S ENCHANTED LIFE.

THE ANGEL-CHILD.

A fairy land of grass and flowers,
And of the greenest trees
A land of singing brooks and springs,
A land of singing breeze.
A land of bright but mellowed hues,
Beneath the western skies,
The lady bore a beauteous chil