ominates the East. It is surely
time for our Government to awake to the importance of the steps now
being taken. It is not a time when the interests of the country can be
intrusted to the efforts of a consul or any inferior naval officer. We
ought to send an envoy with powers to negotiate a treaty, and with such
a fleet as will insure a respectful attention to our demands. The number
of American vessels which frequent the coasts of Madagascar is a
sufficient reason for us to interfere, without regard to the vastly
greater interests which demand that this island shall not become a
French colony. Our prediction that the confederate pirates would soon
sweep the Indian Ocean of our richly laden India-men seems in a fair
way to be accomplished; and where, save by the contemptuous forbearance
of England and France, can our cruisers find a port for supplies,
repairs, or information?

A VIGIL WITH ST. LOUIS.

[Greek: "Cheires men hagnai, phren d' echei miasma ti."]

EURIPIDES.

O Friend, thy brow is overcast; but haply for thy grief,
Though all untold, a spell I hold to work a swift relief,--
A hallowed spell;--no rites we need that shun the light,
Thy taper trim; for we must read some dark old words to-night.
For I will, shall I?--from their graves call up the holy dead,
More mighty than the living oft such soul as thine to aid.
From Fear and Woe, through fears and woes like thine, they won release,
And through our still confronting foes once fought their way to peace.
'Twixt woe and weal, a balm to heal our every wound they found,
An outlet for each pool of strife, that whirls us round and round.
And if perhaps their childish time discerned not all aright,--
While Fancy her stained windows reared between them and the light,--
That in these clearer latter days 'tis given to thee to know,
Then seek the spirit they received, and bid the letter go.
Thy heart unto its Lord unlock; and shut thy closet's door.
The holy water of thy tears drop on the quiet floor.
Unclasp the old brown tome. The walls no more are seen. The page
I read; and we are backward borne far in a bygone age.
The spell hath wrought. To take us in, a tower and bower advance
Where grows upon our steadfast gaze the royal saint of France.
The bower full well a hermit's cell--with hourglass and with skull--
Might seem,--the hangings woven all of rocks and mosses full.
The floor is thick with rushes strow