Darkening the air. I look again, and lo!
Myriads of forms, in phalanx firm conjoined,
Rush on to ruin in one turbulent host

Against the great Messiah! In the van,
The master-demon lifts his lordly crest,
In fierce and insolent triumph, and abroad
Waves his tremendous falchion! In his eye,
Pride Hate-Ambition-Cruelty-are glassed,
As in a mirror. O'er his lofty front

His ebon locks, Medusa-like, are wreathed
In many a snaky fold; and on his brow,
Undiademed, are throned revenge sublime,
Bloated defiance, lust of pomp and power,
And resolution-not to be subdued.

The hostile bands move on, and now have gained Midway the arch of heaven!-They pause awhile;Then to the charge,—and straight from pole to pole, The brunt of battle rings !

The sun hath dropped

Into the blushing bosom of still eve,

And with it the bright pageant too hath vanished! The clash of helm and shield, the bray of war, Fancy had wafted on my dreaming ear,

Have sunk to silence. Not a breath disturbs

The 'deep serene' around me; and above,
Rises a lofty cupola of sky,

In blue, eye-soothing beauty and repose!
No battling seraphim are there; but clouds

Slow sailing on, in placid loveliness,

Like pleasure-barks upon a summer sea.

No shields and helms shine forth in dazzling lustre ;
But where the God of day hath left his smile,
Are countless hues, chameleon-like, that change
As the glance strives to trace them, and become
Momently paler than before. Anon,

Twilight begins to weave her fairy web

Of light and gloom, and, from the deepening East, Night spreads her ebon arms to clasp the world!

WOMAN.

AN EPISODE.

I'm fond of little girls; I should not say
Of little only, for I have for all

Ladies a tender penchant, whether they

Be young or old, thin, fat, or short, or tall;

But here the meaning I would fain convey

Is, that I love them when they're young and

small,

Just at that age when Life's delicious bud

Begins to burst the bonds of baby hood!

The April of existence! When the eye

Is bright and unacquainted with a tear, Save such as Hope can in an instant dry;

The brow and bosom ever calm and clear,— Or if disturbed, but like the changing sky

Of that first, delicate season of the year, Dim for a moment-in the next to shine With added and lustre more divine.

grace

There is a blue-eyed cherub whom my Muse
In earlier hours hath sung of, in whose cheeks,
Collected in one blaze, the rainbow hues

Of childish beauty beam, like the rich streaks Of the deep East at sunrise: I did use

To fondle this arch prattler, watch her freaks And infant playfulness, until I grew

Enamoured of the blossom ere it blew.

And oft, in after-times, when years had rolled On their eternal way, and cares came on,—

When Fortune frowned, and summer friends grew

cold,

Have my thoughts turned upon this youthful one,This early bud,-this babe of five years old,

With sweet and tender yearnings!—Fate hath strown Full many a thorn upon my path below, Since last I kissed her bright and sparkling brow!

I cannot say I'm partial to a boy,

At any age; I've noticed, from his birth, There's always an admixture of alloy

In MAN; his clay would seem of coarser earth
Than our allwise Creator did employ

In moulding our first mother. There's a dearth
Of kindliness in him;-the sordid elf
Too often thinks-plans-acts-but for himself!

Whilst WOMAN-gentle WOMAN, has a heart
Fraught with the sweet humanities of life;
Swayed by no selfish aim she bears her part
In all our joys and woes;-in pain and strife