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ARMAGEDDON.

BY GEO. LANSING TAYLOR.

THE day of God's great battle
Is breaking on the world;

The day when right shall conquer might,
And wrong to hell be hurled.
The storms that shook earth's midnight
Lower, though their reign is done,
And ghastly clouds, in blood-red shrouds,
Are struggling with the sun.

The voice of God Almighty,

A trumpet-blast sublime,

Peals out on high through all the sky,
And startles every clime;
And lo! through all the nations,

Where'er the watchword flies,
O'er hill, and plain, and ocean main,
The mustering millions rise!

I see the mighty gath❜ring

Of uncomputed bands;
Prophet and sage, from every age,
The living of all lands;
And glorious hosts of martyrs,

For God and Freedom slain,
From dust revive, start up alive,
And mingle on the plain !

The great and good, the heroes
Who toil and die for man,
From every land illustrious stand,
And tower along the van;
Not all in earth's high places,

Not all the sons of fame,

But all well known before God's throne, And called by Christ's own name.

No arms have all these millions,

No sword, nor spear, nor shield; But mightier far the weapons are With which they win the field; For Truth, and Love, and Labor

Are more than shield or sword;

And they shall stand at God's right hand Who conquer by his word.

But see! another army

Is mustering for the fight,

And earth and hell its numbers swell
In dark and wrathful might;
The hosts of Gog and Magog,

And armies of the air,

Demons, and ghouls, and damnéd souls, That rave in fierce despair.

Kings of the earth, old despots

Who long have bruised mankind, And long withstood with chains and blood The chainless march of mind; And dire, gigantic systems

Of error blind and hoar,

On Christian land new-marshalled stand, And threat the world once more.

And oh! woe! woe to mortals!
For Satan, in great wrath,

From war in heaven by Michael driven,
Descends in lightning scath;
And all his dragon-angels,

A vengeful cloud and vast,
In fury fly through all the sky,
And swell the blackening blast.

But short shall be his triumph,

For lo! heaven's gates unfold, And hosts of light, on steeds of white, March down the streets of gold; And at their head, o'ercircled By million arching wings Flaming all sides, majestic rides The conquering "King of kings!"

And lo! the great archangels,
With cohorts bright and fair
Of cherubim and seraphim,

Come marching down the air!
And far o'er plain and mountain,
O'er many a field and flood,

Wide o'er the world now floats unfurled The banner stained with blood.

Up! up! ye saints of Jesus,

And make your vestments white;

And girt with flame, in God's great name, Urge on earth's final fight!

That ensign o'er you flying

Must never, never fall,

Till Christ shall reign o'er earth and main, Saviour and Lord of all.

O blissful age! It hastens !
It looms in light afar,
And darts a ray of heavenly day
O'er wrong, and woe, and war.
O joy! O martyred brothers,

Your great reward appears!
Up! live! and reign with Christ again
A thousand golden years!

-Methodist.

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POETRY. "Under the Cloud and Through the Sea," 578. When thou Sleepest, 578. Retirement, 578. Lament for Earl Russell, 600. Kingdom of God, 600. Refuge, 600. The Comet, 620. Frederick Barbarossa, 639. "E Pluribus Unum," 640. The Organ, 640. The Living Dead, 640.

SHORT ARTICLES.-Mr. Sheffield's donation to Yale College, 599. English Pensions, 599. Sacred Mysteries, 599. Germany, 636. Recipe for rendering muslin dresses incombustible, 636. Treaties for the surrender of fugitives from justice, 636. First printed copy of Lord Byron's Poems, 636. Christians in posts of honor in Turkey, 638. The noiseless sewing machine, 638.

NEW BOOKS.

A SOUTH CAROLINA PROTEST AGAINST SLAVERY: Being a Letter from Henry Laurens, dated Charleston, August, 1776. Now first published from the original. New York: George P. Putnam.

PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY BY

LITTELL, SON, & CO., BOSTON.

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Complete sets of the First Series, in thirty-six volumes, and of the Second Series, in twenty volumes, handsomely bound, packed in neat boxes, and delivered in all the principal cities, free of expense of freight, are for sale at two dollars a volume.

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ANY NUMBER may be had for 13 cents; and it is well worth while for subscribers or purchasers to complete any broken volumes they may have, and thus greatly enhance their value.

"UNDER THE CLOUD AND THROUGH

THE SEA."

So moved they, when false Pharaoh's legion pressed,

Chariots and horsemen following furiously,Sons of old Israel, at their God's behest,

Under the cloud and through the swelling sea. So passed they, fearless, where the parted wave, With cloven crest uprearing from the sand,A solemn aisle before,-behind, a grave,Rolled to the beckoning of Jehovah's hand. So led he them, in desert marches grand, By toils sublime, with test of long delay, On, to the borders of that promised land Wherein their heritage of glory lay.

And Jordan raged along his rocky bed,

And Amorite spears flashed keen and fearfully:

Still the same pathway must their footsteps tread,

Under the cloud and through the threatening

sea.

God works no otherwise. No mighty birth
But comes by throes of mortal agony:
No man-child among nations of the earth
But findeth baptism in a stormy sea.
Sons of the saints who faced their Jordan-flood
In fierce Atlantic's unretreating wave,-
Who by the Red Sea of their glorious blood
Reached to the freedom that your blood shall
save!

O countrymen! God's day is not yet done!
He leaveth not his people utterly!

Count it a covenant that he leads us on
Beneath the cloud and through the crimson
sea!
-Atlantic Monthly.

WHEN THOU SLEEPEST.

WHEN thou sleepest, lulled in night,
Art thou lost in vacancy?

Does no silent inward light,
Softly breaking, fall on thee?
Does no dream on quiet wing
Float a moment mid that ray,
Touch some answering mental string,
Wake a note and pass away?
When thou watchest, as the hours

Mute and blind are speeding on,
O'er that rayless path, where lowers
Muffled midnight, black and lone;
Comes there nothing hovering near,
Thought or half reality,
Whispering marvels in thine ear,
Every word a mystery,
Chanting low an ancient lay,

Every plaintive note a spell;
Clearing memory's clouds away,
Showing scenes thy heart loves well?
Songs forgot, in childhood sung,

Airs in youth beloved and known,
Whispered by that airy tongue,
Once again are made thine own.

Be it dream in haunted sleep,

Be it thought in vigil lone,
Drink'st thou not a rapture deep

From the feeling, 'tis thine own?
All thine own; thou need'st not tell
What bright form thy slumber blest;
All thine own; remember well

Night and shade were round thy rest.

Nothing looked upon thy bed,

Save the lonely watch-light's gleam; Not a whisper, not a tread

Scared thy spirit's glorious dream. Sometimes, when the midnight gale Breathed a moan and then was still, Seemed the spell of thought to fail, Checked by one ecstatic thrill;

Felt as all external things,

Robed in moonlight, smote thine eye; Then thy spirit's waiting wings Quivered, trembled, spread to fly; Then th' aspirer wildly swelling

Looked, where mid transcendency Star to star was mutely telling Heaven's resolve and fate's decree. Oh! it longed for holier fire

Than this spark in earthly shrine; Oh! it soared, and higher, higher, Sought to reach a home divine. Hopeless quest! soon weak and weary Flagged the pinion, drooped the plume, And again in sadness dreary

Came the baffled wanderer home.

And again it turned for soothing

To th' unfinished, broken dream; While, the ruffled current smoothing, Thought rolled on her startled stream. I have felt this cherished feeling,

Sweet and known to none but me; Still I felt it nightly healing

Each dark day's despondency.

CHARLOTTE BRONTE.

RETIREMENT.

A SHADY and sequestered spot,
To meditate alone,
Where foot of man approacheth not,
Untrodden, and unknown;

A little brook to sing to me;
Some simple flower, to smile;
The shelter of a spreading tree;
The gales of heaven the while
To fan me as they murmur near:
These would I ne'er resign,
To call the proudest portion here,
With all its glory, mine.

Poor world! Thou art a generous soul,
All selfish though thou be,

To sip the froth of pleasure's bowl,
And leave the draught to me.

-Chambers's Journal.

From The Quarterly Review. children, and, if his own reminiscences are Selections, Grave and Gay, from Writings to be credited, was a warm-hearted but muspublished and unpublished by Thomas De ing, imaginative, and rather weakly child. Quincey. Edinburgh and London, 1854- The death of two elder sisters before he had 60. 14 vols. 12mo. completed his sixth year left a lasting imTHE position of De Quincey in the litera-pression on his mind; and he has described, ture of the present day is remarkable. We in language of great force and beauty, his might search in vain for a writer who, with sensations at the funeral of one, and the sinequal powers, has made an equally slight im-gular dreams with which his first experience pression upon the general public. His style of death inspired him. His father died when is superb his powers of reasoning are unsur-Thomas was in his seventh year, leaving passed his imagination is warm and bril-Greenhays, with a fortune of £1,600 a year, liant, and his humor both masculine and del-to his widow. This father the child had icate. Yet with this singular combination scarcely ever seen. Business kept him conof gifts, he is comparatively little known stantly abroad; and the only means by which outside of that small circle of men who love he contrived to see his family at all was by literature for its own sake, which, in propor-meeting them occasionally at a wateringtion to the population, is not an increasing place, to which Thomas was considered too class. Of the causes which contributed to young to be taken. But Mr. De Quincey's this result, such as depended on his own death brought back another comparative character will develop themselves in the stranger to the family hearth, in the shape course of our remarks. Of the others, it is of the eldest boy, then about twelve years sufficient to point out these two, that he of age, who had been educated at Louth neither completed any one great work, nor Grammar School. The advent of this brother enjoyed the advantage of being represented precipitated De Quincey's "Introduction to by any great periodical; a circumstance the world of strife," an initiation which he which has sometimes given permanence and admits was not without considerable advanunity to a writer's reputation as effectively tage both to his moral and physical constias independent authorship. That his essays tution. His natural addiction to loneliness are not, in general, upon popular subjects, is and dreaming, combined with grief for his of course another element in the case; al- sisters' loss, was generating in him an unthough they only require to be read to show wholesome condition of both mind and body, how easily a man of genius can lubricate the which his brother's arrival rudely, but opporgravest topics by his own overflowing humor, tunely, dissipated. De Quincey says himwithout making the slightest approximation self, in reference to this period of his childto either flippancy or coarseness. As we hood, that he thanks Providence for four fancy, however, that even less is known of things-first, that he lived in a rustic solihis birth, parentage, and education, than of tude; secondly, that the solitude was in his literary remains, we shall endeavor to England; thirdly, that "his infant feelings make our sketch of him complete by pref- were moulded by the gentlest of sisters," acing our critical remarks with a brief memoir instead of "horrid pugilistic brothers ;" of his earlier career as far as it can be ex- finally, that he and they were members of tracted from the fragmentary materials which "a pure, holy, and magnificent church." he has left us. But our readers must not suppose that De Quincey had any real doubt about the paramount utility of a public school education; though at the age of six years "the whole world of strife," as opened to him by his elder brother, proved any thing but soothing to his feelings. This brother seems, in all respects, to have been a remarkable boy. He read lectures on physics to the rest of the nursery. He endeavored to construct an apparatus for walking across the ceiling like a fly, first on the principle of skates,

The subject of this article was born at "The Farm," a country house occupied by his father near Manchester, on the 15th of August, 1785. But his earliest recollections were of "Greenhays," a villa near the same town, where he was brought up in all the comfort and elegance of the household of an opulent English merchant. His family was of Norwegian origin, but, as he assured George III., had been in England since the Conquest. Thomas was the fifth of eight

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and subsequently upon that of a humming-broon, threatened, not remotely, with annextop. He was profound on the subject of ation, by the superior potentate his brother. necromancy, and frequently terrified his "How, and to what extent," my brother young admirers by speculating on the pos- asked, "did I raise taxes on my subsibility of a general confederation of the jects? At this question the model young ghosts of all time against a single genera-prince was staggered. He abhorred taxation of men. He made a balloon; and tion of all kinds. But then he knew that, wrote, and, in conjunction with his brothers if he said as much, his ambitious neighbor and sisters, performed two acts of a tragedy, would jump to the conclusion that he had no in which all the personages were beheaded standing army-an idea which he felt would at the end of each act, leaving none to carry be fatal to his own independence. But though on the play, a perplexity which ultimately he evaded this particular difficulty, a shockcaused "Sultan Amurath" to be abandoned ing discovery was in store for him. In an to the housemaids. In all these matters, evil hour his brother became acquainted however, no especial burden was imposed on with Lord Monboddo's theory of the human Thomas. It was first in his position as race; and he presently announced the fact major-general of his brother's army, and that the inhabitants of Gombroon had not secondly as absolute monarch of the king-yet worn off their tails. This was a hideous dom of Gombroon, that he suffered the worst piece of intelligence. As absolute ruler, terrors and anxieties. The two boys went Thomas might at once issue an edict comevery morning to a private tutor's house pelling his people to sit down six hours and returned in the afternoon, on one or every day, "and so make a beginning," or both of which occasions a fight invariably he might dress them in the Roman toga, as took place with the boys of a neighboring the best means of hiding their appendages. factory, chiefly carried on with stones, and, But either alternative left the great fact unas it would appear from its bloodlessness, touched that he was king of a nation of at a safe distance. These military opera- Caudati, and he continued plunged in the tions were of course under the control of the profoundest melancholy throughout the reelder brother, who directed Thomas's move-mainder of his reign.

ments upon the flank, or rear of the enemy, At the expiration of two years his brothsometimes planting him in ambush and er's proficiency with his pencil caused him to sometimes as a corps of observation, as the be transferred to the house of the celebrated exigencies of the case required. Arriving academician, Mr. de Loutherbourg, where he at home, he issued a bulletin of the engage- died of typhus fever at the age of sixteen. ment, which was read with much ceremony Being no longer under the necessity of proto the housekeeper. Sometimes this docu-tecting his subjects from the neighboring ment announced a victory, and sometimes a potentate of Tigrosylvania, the monarch of defeat; but the conduct of the major-gen- Gombroon laid aside his crown, and retired eral was criticised without reference to the re-into private life. The ensuing four years, sult. Now he was decorated with the Bath, and now he was deprived of his commission. At one time his services merited the highest promotion, at another he behaved with a cowardice "that seemed inexplicable, except on the supposition of treachery." Once he was drummed out of the army, but "restored at the intercession of a distinguished lady" (the housekeeper, to wit). In these singular vicissitudes of fortune two whole years were passed; but, extraordinary as is the air of reality which De Quincey has thrown around this description, it is even less wonderful than the picture of his own feelings as king of the island of Gom

i.e. from his eighth year to his twelfth, were marked by no incidents particularly worthy of commemoration, except the removal of his family from Greenhays to Bath, and his own entrance at the Bath Grammar School. Here he made numerous enemies by the superiority of his Latin verses: and he was ultimately removed from the school, primarily, indeed, in consequence of an accident, but secondarily, because his mother was unwilling that he should hear so much of his own merits. From Bath he went to another school, at Winkfield, in Wiltshire, which he left in the spring of the year 1800, for the purpose of accompanying a young friend of

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