Oh! sailor boy! sailor boy! peace to thy soul.-Dimond. TIME AND ITS CHANGES. Reformation is a work of time. A national taste, however wrong it may be, cannot be totally changed at once; we must yield a little to the prepossession, which has taken hold on the mind, and we may then bring people to adopt what would offend them, if endeavored to be introduced by violence.

What's fame? a fancied life in other's breath,
A thing beyond us, e'en before our death.
All fames foreign, but of true desert,
Plays round the head, but comes not to the heart;
One self-approving hour, whole years outweighs
Of stupid starers, and of loud hussas :
And more true joy, Marcellus-exil'd, feels,
Than Cesar, with a senate at his heels.

Mind, not money-makes the man,

635. CHILD HAROLD.-CANTO 1.
Oh! that the desert-were my dwelling place,
With one fair spirit-for my minister
That I might all forget the human race,
And hating no one, love but only her!
Ye elements!--in whose ennobling stir,
I feel myself exalted--Can ye not

Accord me such a being? Do I err
In deeming such-inhabit many a spot!
Though with them to converse, can rarely be wist

There is a pleasure-in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture-on the lonely shore,
There is society where none intrudes,
By the deep sea, and music in its roar:

I love not man the less, but nature more,
From these our interviews, in which I steal
From all I may be, or have been before,
To mingle-with the Universe, and feel
What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal
Roll on, thou deep, and dark blue ocean-roll!
Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain;
Man marks the earth with ruin-his control
Stops with the shore ;-upon the watery plain
The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain
A shadow of man's ravage, save his own;
When for a moment, like a drop of rain,
He sinks into thy depths, with bubbling groan,
Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffined, and unknow
The armaments which thunderstrike the walls
Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake,
And monarchs tremble, in their capitals,
The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make
Their clay creator, the vain title take-
Of lord of thee, and arbiter of war!
These are thy toys, and, as the snowy flake,
They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar
Alike, the Armada's pride, or spoils of Trafalgar

Thy shores are empires, changed in all save thee-
Assyria, Greece, Rome, Carthage, what are they?
Thy waters wasted them, while they were free,
And many a tyrant since; their shores obey
The stranger, slave, or savage; their decay
Has dried up realms to deserts :-not so thou-
Unchangeable, save to thy wild waves' play-
Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow-
Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now
Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form
Glasses itself in tempests; in all time,
(Calm, or convulsed, in breeze, or gale, or storm,
Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime,
Dark-heaving,)-boundless, endless, and sublime
The image of Eternity-the throne

Of the Invisible; even from out thy slime
The monsters of the deep are made! each zone
Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone.

And I have loved thee, Ocean! and my joy
Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be
Borne like the bubbles, onward; from a boy,

I wantoned with thy breakers-they to me
Were a delight; and if the freshening sea
Made them a terror-'twas a pleasing fear,
For I was, as it were, a child of thee,
And trusted to thy billows far and near,
And laid my hand upon thy mane-as I do here.

[fite

In the dreams of delight, which with ardor we
Oft the phantom of sorrow appears; [seek,
And the roses of pleasure, which bloom on you
Must be steeped in the dew of your tears. [cheek,
The aged man, that coffers up his gold,
Is plagu'd with cramps, and gouts, and painf
And scarce hath eyes, his treasure to be hold,
But still, like pining Tantalus, he sits,
And useless bans the harvest of his wits,
Having no other pleasure of his gain,
But torment, that it cannot cure his pain.
To err-is human; to forgive-diving.

636. PATRIOTIC TRIUMPH. The citizens of America-celebrate that day, which gave birth to their liberties. The recollection of this event, replete with consequences so beneficial to mankind, swells every heart with joy, and fills every tongue with praise. We celebrate, not the sanguinary exploits of a tyrant, to subjugate, and enslave-millions of his fellow-creatures; we celebrate, neither the birth, nor the coronation, of that phantom, styled a king; but, the resurrection of liberty, the emancipation of mankind, the regeneration of the world. These are the sources of our joy, these the causes of our triumph. We pay no homage at the tomb of kings, to sublime our feelings-we trace no line of illustrious ancesters, to support our dignity-we recur to no usages sanctioned by the authority of the great, to protect our rejoicing; no, we love liberty, we glory in the rights of men, we glory in independence. On whatever part of God's creation a human form pines under chains, there, Americans drop their tears.

A dark cloud once shaded this beautiful quarter of the globe. Consternation, for awhile, agitated the hearts of the inhabitants. War desolated our fields, and buried our vales in blood. But the dayspring from on high soon opened upon us its glittering portals. The angel of liberty descending, dropped on Washington's brow, the wreath of victory, and stamped on American freedom, the seal of omnipotence. The darkness is past, and the true light now shines-to enliven, and rejoice mankind. We tread a new earth, in which dwelleth righteousness; and view a new heaven, flaming with inextinguishable stars. Our feet will no more descend into the vale of oppressions; our shoulders will no more bend-under the weight of a foreign domination, as cruel, as it was unjust. Well may we rejoice-at the return of this glorious anniversary; a day dear to every American; a day-to be had in everlasting remembrance; a day, whose light circulates joy-through the hearts of all republicans, and terror hrough the hearts of all tyrants.-Maxy.

At length, one morn, to taste the air,
The youth and maid, in cne horse chair,
A long excursion took.

Edgar had nerved his bashful heart,
The sweet confession to impart,
For ah! suspense had caused a smart,
He could no longer brook.

He drove, nor slackened once his reins,
Till Hempstead's wide extended plains
Seem'd join'd to skies above :
Nor house, nor tree, nor shrub was near
The rude and dreary scene to cheer,
Nor soul within ten miles to hear-
And still, poor Edgar's silly fear,

Forbade to speak of love.

At last, one desperate effort broke
The bashful spell, and Edgar spoke,
With most persuasive tone;
Recounted past attendance o'er,
And then, by all that's lovely, swore,
That he would love, for evermore,

If she'd become his own.
The maid, in silence, heard his prayer,
Then, with a most provoking air,

She, tittered in his face;
And said, ""Tis time for you to know,
A lively girl must have a beau,
Just like a reticule-for show;
And at her nod to come, and go-

But he should know his place.
Your penetration must be dull,
To let a hope within your skull
Of matrimony spring.
Your wife! ha, ha! upon my word,
The thought is laughably absurd,
As anything I ever heard-

I never dream'd of such a thing."
The lover sudden dropp'd his rein,
Now on the centre of the plain-

"The linch-pin's out!" he cried; Be pleased, one moment, to alight, Till I can set the matter right,

That we may safely ride."

640. FEVER DREAM.

A fever-scorched my body, fired my brain!
Like lava, in Vesuvius, boiled my blood,
Within the glowing caverns of my heart.

I raged with thirst, and begged a cold, clear draught

Of fountain water.-'Twas with tears, denied.

I drank a nauseous febrifuge, and slept;
But rested not-harassed with horrid dreams,
Of burning deserts, and of dusty plains,
Mountains, disgorging flames-forests on fire,
Steam, sunshine, smoke, and boiling lakes-
Hills of hot sand, and glowing stones, that seemed
Embers, and ashes, of a burnt up world!

Thirst raged within me.-I sought the deepest vale,
And called on all the rocks, and caves for water;-

I climbed a mountain, and from cliff to cliff,

Pursued a flying cloud, howling for water:

I crushed the withered herbs, and gnawed dry roots,

Still crying Water! water!-While the cliffs and caves,

In horrid mockery, re-echoed "Water!"

Below the mountain, gleamed a city, red

With solar flame, upon the sandy bank

Of a broad river.-"Soon, oh soon!" I cried,
"I'll cool my burning body in that flood,

And quaff my fill."-I ran-I reached the shore.-
The river was dried up. Its oozy bed
Was dust; and on its arid rocks, I saw
The scaly myriads-fry beneath the sun!
Where sunk the channel deepest, I beheld
A stirring multitude of human forms,
And heard a faint, wild, lamentable wail.
Thither I sped, and joined the general cry
Of" water!" They had delved a spacious pit,
In search of hidden fountains-sad, sad sight!
I saw them rend the rocks up in their rage
With mad impatience, calling on the earth
To open, and yield up her cooling fountains.
Meanwhile the skies, on which they dared not gaze,
Stood o'er them like a canopy of brass-
Undimmed by moisture. The red dog-star raged,
And Phoebus, from the house of Virgo, shot
His scorching shafts. The thirsty multitude
Grew still more frantic. Those, who dug the earth,
Fell lifeless on the rocks, they strained to upheave,
And filled again, with their own carcasses,
The pits they made-undoing their own work!
Despair, at length, drove out the laborers,

At sight of whom, a general groan-announced
The death of hope. Ah! now, no more was heard
The cry of "water!" To the city next,
Howling, we ran-all hurrying without aim:-

Thence te 'he woods. The baked plain gaped for moisture
And from its arid breast heaved smoke, that seemed

The breath of furnace-fierce, volcanic fire,

Or hot monsoon, that raises Syrian sands

To clouds. Amid the forests, we espied

A faint, and bleating herd. Sudden, a shrill,

And horrid shout arose of-"Blood! blood! blood!"

We fell upon them with the tiger's thirst,

And drank up all the blood, that was not human!
We were dyed in blood! Despair returned;

The cry of blood was hushed, and dumb confusion reigned.
Even then, when hope was dead!-past hope-

I heard a laugh! and saw a wretched man

Rip his own veins, and, bleeding, drink

With eager joy. The example seized on all :

Each fell upon himself, tearing his veins,

Fiercely, in search of blood! And some there wer
Who, having emptied their own veins, did seize

Upon their neighbor's arms, and slew them for their blood-
Oh! happy then, were mothers, who gave suck.
They dashed their little infants from their breasts,
And their shrunk bosoms tortured, to extract
The balmy juice, oh! exquisitely sweet

To their parched tongues! "Tis done!-now all is gone!
Blood, water, and the bosom's nectar,--all!

"Rend, oh! ye lightnings! the sealed firmament,
And flood a turning world.-Rain! rain! pour! pour!
Open-ye windows of high heaven! and pour
she mighty deluge I.et us drown, and drink

Luxurious death! Ye earthquakes, split the globe,
The solid, rock-ribbed globe!--and ay all bare
Its subterranean rivers, and fresh seas!"

Thus raged the multitude. And many fell

In fierce convulsions;-many slew themselves.
And now, I saw the city all in flames-
The forest burning-and the very earth on fire!

I saw the mountains open with. a roar,

Louu as the seven apocalyptic thunders,

And seas of lava rolling headlong down,
Through crackling forests fierce, and hot as hell,
Down to the plain-I turned to fly,and waked!--Mar
641. NOSE AND THE MAN.

Kind friends, at your call, I'm come here to sing
Or rather to talk of my woes;

Though small 's the delight to you I can bring
The subject's concerning my nose.

Some noses are large, and others are small,
For nature's vagaries are such,

To some folks, I'm told, she gives no nose at all,
But to me she has given too much.

Oh, dear! lauks-a-daisy me!

My cause of complaint, and the worst of my woes, Is, because I have got such a shocking long nose. Some insult or other, each day I do meet,

And by joking, my friends are all foes;
And the boys every day, as I go thro' the street,
Ali bellow out-" There goes a nose!"

A woman, with matches one day, I came near,
Who, just as I tried to get by her,
Shoved me rudely aside, and ask'd, with a leer,
If I wanted to set her o'fire?

Oh, dear! lauks-a-daisy me!

Each rascal, each day, some inuendo throws,
As, my nose is n't mine, I belongs to my nose.
I once went a courting a wealthy old maid,
To be married we were, the next day;
But an accident happened, the marriage delay'),
My nose got too much in the way.
For the night before marriage, entranc'd with my
In love, e'er some torment occurs-
[1.288,

I screw'd up my lips, just to give her a kiss,
My nose slipp'd, and rubb'd against her's!

Oh, dear! lauks-a-daisy me!

The ring that I gave, at my head soon she throws,
And another tipp'd me, 'twas a w-ring on the nose.
Like a porter all day, with fatigue fit to crack,
I'm seeking for rest, at each place,

Or, like pilgrim of old, with his load at his back.
Only my load I bear on my face.

I can't get a wife, though each hour hard I try, The girls they all blush, like a rose;

"I'm afraid to have you!" when I ask 'em for why? Because, you have got such a nose.

Oh, dear! lauks-a-daisy me!
Their cause of refusal I cannot suppose,
They all like the man, but they say-blow his nose!
Like a large joint of meat, before a small fire,
They say that my proboscis hangs-
Or, to a brass knocker, nought there can be nigher
And in length, it a pump-handle bangs.

A wag, you must know, just by way of a wipe,
Said, with a grin on his face, t'other night,
As he, from his pocket, was pulling a pipe,
"At your nose will you give me a light?"
Oh, dear! lauks-a-daisy me!

If I ask any one my way to disclose,

If I lose it-they answer, why, follow your nose