Blent with the season and the scene,

From out her treasured stores, Reflection Looks to the days when Life was green, With fond and thrilling retrospection ; The earth again seems haunted ground : Youth smiles, by Hope and Joy attended And bloom afresh young flowers around, With scent as rich, and hues as splendid.

This is a chilling world-we live
Only to see all round us wither;
Years beggar; age can only give

Bare rocks to frail feet wandering thither. Friend after friend, joy after joy,

Have like night's boreal gleams departed; Ah! how unlike the impassioned boy

Is Eld, white-haired and broken-hearted!

How oft, 'mid eves as clear and calm,

These wild-wood pastures have I strayed in, When all these scenes of bliss and balm

Blue Twilight's mantle were arrayed in!
How oft I've stole from bustling man
From Art's parade, and city riot,
The sweets of Nature's reign to scan,
And muse on Life in rural quiet!

Fair Star! with calm repose and peace
I hail thy vesper beam returning;
Thou seem'st to say that troubles cease
In the calm sphere where thou art burning.
Sweet 'tis on thee to gaze and muse;
Sure, angel wings around thee hover,
And from Life's fountain scatter dews
To freshen Earth, Day's fever over.

Star of the Mariner! thy car,

O'er the blue waters twinkling clearly,

Reminds him of his home afar,

And scenes he loves, ah! still how dearly! He sees his native fields, he sees

Gray twilight gathering o'er his mountains; And hears the murmuring of green trees, The bleat of flocks, and gush of fountains.

How beautiful, when through the shrouds
The fierce presaging storm-winds rattle,
Thou glitterest clear amid the clouds,

O'er waves that lash, and winds that battle! And as, athwart the billows driven,

He turns to thee in fond devotion, Star of the Sea! thou tell'st that heaven O'erlooks alike both land and ocean.

Star of the Mourner! 'mid the gloom,
When droops the West o'er Day departed,
The widow bends above the tomb

Of him who left her broken-hearted;
Darkness within, and Night around—
The joys of life no more can move her ;
When lo! thou lightest the profound

To tell that Heaven's eye glows above her.

Star of the Lover! oh, how bright

Above the copsewood dark thou shinest,

As longs he for those eyes of light,

For him whose lustre burns divinest:

Earth and the things of Earth depart,
Transformed to scenes and sounds Elysian;
Warm rapture gushes o'er his heart,
And Life seems like a faery vision.

Yes, thine the hour when, daylight done,
Fond Youth to Beauty's bower thou lightest

Soft shines the moon, bright shines the sun,
But thou of all things, softest, brightest.

Still is thy beam as fair and young,
The torch illuming Evening's portal,
As when of thee lorn Sappho sung,

With burning soul, in lays immortal.

Star of the Poet! thy pale fire,
Awakening kindling inspiration,
Burns in blue ether, to inspire

The loftiest themes of meditation;
He deems some holier, happy race
Dwells in the orbit of thy beauty,—
Pure spirits who have purchased grace
By walking in the paths of duty.

Beneath the Earth turns Paradise,
To him all radiant, rich, and tender;
And dreams, arrayed by thee, arise
'Mid Twilight's dim and dusky splendor;
Blest or accursed each spot appears;
A frenzy fine his fancy seizes;
He sees unreal shapes, and hears
The wail of spirits on the breezes.

Bright leader of the hosts of Heaven!
When day from darkness God divided,
In silence through Empyrean driven,

Forth from the East thy chariot glided:
Star after Star, o'er night and earth,
Shone out in brilliant revelation;
And all the Angels sang for mirth
To hail the finished fair creation.

Star of the bee! with laden thigh,

Thy twinkle warns its homeward winging;

Star of the bird! thou bid'st her lie

Down o'er her young, and hush her singing ;

Star of the pilgrim, travel-sore !
How sweet, reflected in the fountains,
He hails thy circlet gleaming o'er

The shadow of his native mountains!

Thou art the star of Freedom; thou

Undo'st the bonds which gall the sorest; Thou bring'st the ploughman from his plough; Thou bring'st the woodman from his forest: Thou bring'st the wave-worn fisher home With all his scaly wealth around him ; And bid'st the hearth-sick school-boy roam, Freed from the lettered tasks that bound him.

Star of declining day, farewell !—

Ere lived the Patriarchs thou wast yonder; Ere Isaac, 'mid the piny dell,

Went forth at even-tide to ponder;

And when to Death's stern mandate bow
All whom we love, and all who love us,
Thou shalt uprise, as thou dost now,

To shine, and shed thy tears above us.

Star that proclaims eternity!

""

When o'er the lost sun Twilight weepeth,
Thou light'st thy beacon-tower on high,
To say,
He is not dead, but sleepeth ;'
And forth with Dawn thou comest too,
As all the hosts of night surrender,

To prove thy sign of promise true,
And usher in Day's orient splendor.

DAVID MACBETH MOIR.

The Dream of Eugene Aram.

WAS in the prime of summer time,

'TWAS

An evening calm and cool,

And four-and-twenty happy boys

Came bounding out of school;

There were some that ran and some that leapt,

Like troutlets in a pool.

Away they sped with gamesome minds,

And souls untouched by sin;

To a level mead they came, and there
They drave the wickets in:
Pleasantly shone the setting sun
Over the town of Lynn.

Like sportive deer they coursed about,
And shouted as they ran—
Turning to mirth all things of earth,
As only boyhood can ;

But the Usher sat remote from all,
A melancholy man!

His hat was off, his vest apart,

To catch heaven's blessed breeze;

For a burning thought was in his brow,

And his bosom ill at ease;

So he leaned his head on his hands, and read

The book between his knees!

Leaf after leaf he turned it o'er,

Nor ever glanced aside;

For the peace of his soul he read that book

In the golden eventide ;

Much study had made him very lean,

And pale, and leaden-eyed.