The throne uprose majestically slow;
Each angel spread his wings; in one dread swell
Of triumph mingling as they mounted, trumpets
And harps, and golden lyres, and timbrels sweet,
And many a strange and deep-toned instrument
Of heavenly minstrelsy unknown on earth,
And angels' voices, and the loud acclaim
Of all the ransom'd like a thunder shout,
Far through the skies melodious echoes roll'd
And faint hosannas distant climes return'd.

* * * * *

=_John M. Harney,[79] 1789-1855._=

From "Crystallina: a Fairy Tale."

=_333._=

On the stormy heath a ring they form;
They place therein the fearful maid,
And round her dance in the howling storm.
The winds beat hard on her lovely head:
But she clasped her hands, and nothing said.

O, 'twas, I ween, a ghastly sight
To see their uncouth revelry.
The lightning was the taper bright,
The thunder was the melody,
To which they danced with horrid glee.

The fierce-eyed owl did on them scowl,
The bat played round on leathern wing,
The coal-black wolf did at them howl,
The coal-black raven did croak and sing,
And o'er them flap his dusky wing.

An earthquake heaved beneath their feet,
Pale meteors revelled in the sky,
The clouds sailed by like a routed fleet,
The night-winds shrieked as they passed by,
The dark-red moon was eclipsed on high.

[Footnote 79: One of the earliest poets of the West, but a native of
Delaware.]

* * * * *

=_Charles Sprague, 1791-._= (Manual, p. 514.)

From "Curiosity."

=_334._= THE NEWSPAPER.

Turn to the Press--its teeming sheets survey,
Big with the wonders of each passing day;
Births, deaths, and weddings, forgeries, fires, and wrecks,
Harangues and hailstorms, brawls and broken necks;
Where half-fledged bards, on feeble pinions, seek
An immortality of near a week;
Where cruel eulogists the dead restore,
In maudlin praise, to martyr them once more;
Where ruffian slanderers wreak their coward spite,
And need no venomed dagger while they write.

* * * * *

Yet, sweet or bitter, hence what fountains burst,
While still the more we drink the more we thirst.
Trade hardly deems the busy day begun
Till his keen eye along the page has run;
The blooming daughter throws her needle by,
And reads her schoolmate's marriage wi