With limbs that falter, and with hearts that swell,
Down, down they pass-a steep and slippery dell-
Around them rise, in pristine chaos hurl'd,

The ancient rocks, the secrets of the world;
And flowers that blush beneath the ocean green,
And caves, the sea-calves' low-roofed haunt, are seen.
Down, safely down the narrow pass they tread;
The beetling waters storm above their head:
While far behind retires the sinking day,.
And fades on Edom's hills its latest ray.

Yet not from Israel fled the friendly light,
Or dark to them or cheerless came the night.

Still in their van, along that dreadful road,
Blazed broad and fierce the brandish'd torch of God.

Its meteor glare a tenfold lustre gave,

On the long mirror of the rosy wave:

While its blest beams a sunlike heat supply,
Warm every cheek, and dance in every eye-
To them alone-for Misraim's wizard train
Invoke for light their monster-gods in vain :
Clouds heap'd on clouds their struggling sight confine,
And tenfold darkness broods above their line.
Yet on they fare, by reckless vengeance led,
And range unconscious through the ocean's bed:

Till midway now-that strange and fiery form
Show'd his dread visage lightening through the storm,
With withering splendour blasted all their might,

And brake their chariot-wheels, and marr'd their coursers*

flight.

"Fly, Misraim, fly!"--The ravenous floods they see,
And, fiercer than the floods, the Deity.

"Fly, Misraim, fly!"-From Edom's coral strand
Again the prophet stretch'd his dreadful wand :--
With one wild crash the thundering waters sweep,
And all is waves—a dark and lonely deep-

Yet o'er those lonely waves such murmurs past,
As mortal wailing swell'd the nightly blast;
And strange and sad the whispering breezes bore
The groans of Egypt to Arabia's shore.

Oh! welcome came the morn, where Israel stood
In trustless wonder by th' avenging flood!
Oh! welcome came the cheerful morn, to show
The drifted wreck of Zoan's pride below;
The mangled limbs of men-the broken car-
A few sad relics of a nation's war:

Alas, how few!-Then, soft as Elim's well,
The precious tears of new-born freedom fell.
And he, whose harden'd heart alike had borne
The house of bondage and th' oppressor's scorn,
The stubborn slave, by hope's new beams subdued,
In faltering accents sobb'd his gratitude-

Till, kindling into warmer zeal, around

The virgin timbrel waked its silver sound:
And in fierce joy, no more by doubt supprest,
The struggling spirit throbb'd in Miriam's breast.

She, with bare arms, and fixing on the sky

The dark transparence of her lucid eye,

Pour'd on the winds of heaven her wild sweet harmony.

"Where now," she sang, "the tall Egyptian spear? On's sun-like shield, and Zoan's chariot, where? Above their ranks the whelming waters spread. Shout, Israel, for the Lord hath triumphèd!” And every pause between as Miriam sang, From tribe to tribe the martial thunder rang, And loud and far their stormy chorus spread,"Shout, Israel, for the Lord hath triumphèd."

HAPPINESS.

ONE morning in the month of May
I wander'd o'er the hill;
Though Nature all around was gay,
My heart was heavy still.

Can God, I thought, the good, the great,

These meaner creatures bless,

And yet deny our human state

The boon of happiness?

Tell me, ye woods, ye smiling plains,
Ye blessed birds around,

Where, in creation's wide domains,

Can perfect bliss be found?

And Nature's awful chorus said,
No bliss for man she knew!

I question'd Love, whose early ray
So heavenly bright appears;
And Love, in answer, seem'd to say,

His light was dimm'd by tears.

I question'd Friendship-Friendship mourn'd,
And thus her answer gave:

The friends whom fortune had not turn'd
Were vanish'd in the grave!

I asked of Feeling,-if her skill
Could heal the wounded breast?
And found her sorrows streaming still,
For others' griefs distrest.

I ask'd if Vice could bliss bestow?
Vice boasted loud and well:
But, fading from her pallid brow,
The venom'd roses fell.

I question'd Virtue,-Virtue sigh'd,
No boon could she dispense;
Nor Virtue was her name, she cried,

But humble Penitence!

I question'd Death,-the grisly shade
Relax'd his brow severe;

And, "I am Happiness," he said,

"If Virtue guides thee here!"