Shine where my charmer's sweeter breath
Embalms the soft exhaling dew,
Where dying winds a sigh bequeath
To kiss the cheek of rosy hue.

Where, winnowed by the gentle air,
Her silken tresses darkly flow,
And fall upon her brow so fair,
Like shadows on the mountain snow.

Thus, ever thus at day's decline,
In converse sweet to wander far:-
O bring with thee my Caroline,
And thou shalt be my ruling Star.

J. CAMPBELL.

THE STARS.

E Stars! which are the poetry of heaven!
If in your bright leaves we would read the fate
Of men and empires,-'tis to be forgiven,

That in our aspirations to be great,

Our destinies o'erleap their mortal state,
And claim a kindred with you; for ye are

A beauty and a mystery, and create

In us such love and reverence from afar,

That fortune, fame, power, life, have named themselves a

star.

THE STARS.

E brightly beaming Stars!

Have ye no music as ye roll along?
Or is it that to us earth's discord mars

Your heavenly song?

BYRON.

The music of your spheres !

Was it a fiction of the olden time?

Or are there not who hear with wakeful ears

That strain sublime?

Let thought still hear you raise

The joyful anthem which ye sang of yore;
And as the sons of God then joined your praise,
Let man adore!

BARTON.

THE STARS.

(HE Stars above,

Those ancient teachers, with their looks of love;
The self-same stars, that o'er man's troubled years

So long have shone from their eternal spheres:
Ages beneath have perished: they abide,
And night by night their stillness seems to chide
This changeful life-the ceaseless ebb and flow,
The weary turmoil of the world below:

Yea, these enduring heavens and this green earth,
That day by day, since young creation's birth,
With all their loving language, never cease
To plead with man, and call him back to peace.
O teach they not that wars and tempests lie
Encompassed with a dread tranquillity?
That man's unquiet years of storm and strife
Are but as moments in the deeper life
Of the eternal silence, on whose breast
All earthly discord sinks in perfect rest?

J. C. SHAIRP.

THE STARS.

HE clouds are split

Asunder; and above his head he sees

The clear moon, and the glory of the heavens ;

There, in a black blue vault she sails along,

Followed by multitudes of stars, that, small,
And sharp, and bright, along the dark abyss
Drive as she drives. How fast they wheel away,
Yet vanish not !-the wind is in the tree,
But they are silent; still they roll along
Immeasurably distant; and the vault,

Built round by those white clouds, enormous clouds,
Still deepens the unfathomable depth.

At length the vision closes; and the mind,
Not undisturbed by the delight it feels,
Which slowly settles into peaceful calm,
Is left to muse upon the solemn scene.

WORDSWORTH.

0

THE STARS.

HE Stars! the Stars! go forth by night,
Lift up thine eyes on high,

And view the countless orbs of light

Which gem the vaulted sky:

Go forth in silence and alone,

This glorious sight to scan;
And bid thy humbled spirit own
The littleness of man.

The stars the stars! thou canst not dream

For thee alone they shine;

That thus the heavens with splendour gleam,

To glad those eyes of thine :

Each orb that decks yon vaulted dome,

For aught thy pride can tell,

May be the brighter, happier home
Where deathless spirits dwell.

The stars! the stars! oh well may pride

Confess the truths they preach :

Yet to devotion, eagle-eyed,

Exalted thoughts they teach:

They tell not only of the might

Of Him enthroned above,
But trace, in characters of light,
His mercy and his love.

The stars! the stars! recall that one

Which shone o'er Bethlehem's plains,
When God sent down his glorious Son,
To break our galling chains :
To shed his blood; upon the tree
Our chastisement to bear;

Oh! think on Him that died for thee,
With gratitude and prayer.

The stars! the stars! the silent stars
Unto the worldling's ear;

But he whose sense no passion mars,
Their voice divine can hear;

To him they sing those heavenly songs
Which seraph harps employ,

And he in spirit joins the throngs
Who with them "shout for joy!"

BARTON.

THE STARS.

Stars! bright legions that before all time, Camped on yon plain of sapphire, who shall tell Your burning myriads, but the eye of Him Who bade through heaven your golden chariots wheel? Yet who earth-born can see your hosts, nor feel

Immortal impulses-Eternity?

What wonder if the o'erwrought soul should reel
With its own weight of thought, and the wild eye
See fate within your tracks of deepest glory lie?

For ye behold the mightiest. From that steep,
What ages have ye worshipped round your King?

Ye heard his trumpet sounded o'er the sleep
Of earth;-ye heard the morning angels sing.
Upon that orb, now o'er me quivering,
The gaze of Adam fixed from paradise ;
The wanderers of the deluge saw it spring

Above the mountain-surge, and hailed its rise,
Lighting their lonely track with hope's celestial dyes.

On Calvary shot down that purple eye,
When, but the soldier and the sacrifice,
All were departed. Mount of agony!

But Time's broad pinion, ere the giant dies,
Shall cloud your dome. Ye fruitage of the skies,
Your vineyard shall be shaken! From your urn,
Censers of heaven, no more shall glory rise,

Your incense to the throne! The heavens shall burn! For all your pomps are dust, and shall to dust return.

Yet look, ye living intellect; the trine
Of waning planets speaks it not decay?
Does Schedir's staff of diamond wave no sign?
Monarch of midnight, Sirius, shoots thy ray
Undimmed, when thrones sublunar pass away?
Dreams! yet if e'er was graved in vigil wan
Your spell on gem of imaged alchymy,
The sign when empire's hour-glass downward ran,
'Twas on that arch, grayed on that brazen talisman.

CROLY.

THE EVENING STAR.

A Sapphic Ode.

"Clouds float around to honour thee, and Evening
Lingers in heaven."

SOUTHEY.

HEN from the blue sky traces of the daylight
Fade, and the night-winds sigh from the ocean,
Then, on thy watch-tower beautiful thou shinest,
Star of the Evening!