ure perfection is enjoy'd;
And here o'er flowing paths with agate paved,
Immortal Shapes meander and commune.
While with permissive gaze I glanced the scene,
A whelming tide of rich-toned music roll'd,
Waking delicious echoes, as it wound
From Melody's divinest fount! All heaven
Glow'd bright, as, like a viewless river, swell'd
The deepening music!--Silence came again!
And where I gazed, a shrine of cloudy fire
Flamed redly awful; round it Thunder walk'd,
And from it Lightning look'd out most sublime!
Here throned in unimaginable bliss
And glory, sits The One Eternal Power,
Creator, Lord, and Life of All: Again,
Stillness ethereal reign'd, and forth appear'd
Elysian creatures robed in fleecy light,
Together flocking from celestial haunts,
And mansions of purpureal mould; the Host
Of heaven assembled to adore with harp
And hymn, the First and Last, the Living God;
They knelt,--a universal choir, and glow'd
More beauteous while they breathed the chant divine,
And Hallelujah! Hallelujah! peal'd,
And thrill'd the concave with harmonious joy.

VISION OF HELL.

Apart, upon a throne of living fire
The Fiend was seated; in his eye there shone
The look that dared Omnipotence; the light
Of sateless vengeance, and sublime despair.--
He sat amid a burning world, and saw
Tormented myriads, whose blaspheming shrieks
Were mingled with the howl of hidden floods,
And Acherontine groans; of all the host,
The only dauntless he. As o'er the wild
He glanced, the pride of agony endured
Awoke, and writhed through all his giant frame,
That redden'd, and dilated, like a sun!
Till moved by some remember'd bliss, or joy
Of paradisal hours, or to supply
The cravings of infernal wrath,--he bade
The roar of Hell be hush'd,--and silence was!
He called the cursed,--and they flash'd from cave
And wild--from dungeon and from den they came,
And stood an unimaginable mass
Of spirits, agonized with burning pangs:
In silence stood they, while the Demon gazed
On all, and communed with departed Time,
From whence his vengeance such a harvest reap'd.

BEAUTIFUL INFLUENCES.

Who hath not felt the magic of a voice,--
Its spirit haunt him in romantic hours?
Who hath not heard from Melody's own lips
Sounds that become a music to his mind?--
Music is heaven! and in the festive dome,
When throbs the lyre, as if instinct with life,
And som