MEN.

THE ENCHANTRESS.

Where the wondrous and glorious cloud-tracts be,
In their burning and transparent glory,
Would I walk in mists of light with thee,
Leaving this old world, bleak and hoary.

Yet from this dimmest of dim spheres,

Would I bear some few most precious things
Beloved 'midst childhood's smiles and tears,
Though tainted now by life's dark springs.

A color from the unpurpled flower;
A music from the whispering shell;
A sparkle from the rainbowed shower;
A perfume from the blossomed dell.

And art thou so beloved, oh, earth?

Can links of life's long chain be dear?
Then I'll not leave thee, place of birth,

Even for the loveliest stranger sphere !

WATER-the mighty, the pure, the beautiful, the unfathomable-where is thy element so glorious as it is in thine own domain, the deep seas? What an infinity of power is in the far Atlantic, the boundary of two separate worlds, apart like those of memory and of hope! or in the bright Pacific, whose tides are turned to gold by a southern sun, and in whose bosom sleep a thousand isles, each covered with the verdure, the flowers, and the fruit