Thou fragile thing That with a breath I could destroy, What mighty train of care and joy Do ye not bring?
Emblem of power! By thee comes public bane or good; The wheels of state, without thee, would Stop in an hour.
Tower, dome, and arch, Thou spreadest o'er the desert waste, Thou guid'st the path of war, and stay'st The army's march.
The spreading seas For thee unnumbered squadrons bear, Ruler of earth, and sea, and air— When bended knees
Are bowed in prayer, Although to heaven is given each word, Thy influence in the heart, unheard, Is upmost there!
Fly! minion, fly! Thine errand is unfinished yet— The boon I covet,—to forget! Thou canst not buy.
THE DELAWARE WATER-GAP.
BY MRS. E. F. ELLET
Our Western land can boast no lovelier spot. The hills which in their ancient grandeur stand, Piled to the frowning clouds, the bulwarks seem Of this wild scene, resolved that none but Heaven Shall look upon its beauty. Round their breast A curtained fringe depends, of golden mist, Touched by the slanting sunbeams; while below The silent river, with majestic sweep, Pursues his shadowed way,—his glassy face Unbroken, save when stoops the lone wild swan To float in pride, or dip his ruffled wing. Talk ye of solitude?—It is not here. Nor silence.—Low, deep murmurs are abroad. Those towering hills hold converse with the sky That smiles upon their summits;—and the wind Which stirs their wooded sides, whispers of life, And bears the burthen sweet from leaf to leaf, Bidding the stately forest boughs look bright, And nod to greet his coming!—And the brook, That with its silvery gleam comes leaping down From the hill-side, has, too, a tale to tell; The wild bird's music mingles with its chime;— And gay young flowers, that blossom in its path, Send forth their perfume as an added gift. The river utters, too, a solemn voice, And tells of deeds long past, in ages gone, When not a sound was heard along his shores, Save the wild tread of savage feet, or shriek Of some expiring captive,—and no bark E'er cleft his gloomy waters. Now, his waves Are vocal often with the hunter's song;— Now visit, in their glad and onward course, The abodes of happy men—gardens and fields— And cultured plains—still bearing, as they pass, Fertility renewed and fresh delights.