has no air of profundity, but plays with the details of place as dexterously as a well-taught hand flourishes over the keys of the piano-forte. It has all the air of commonplace, and all the force and power of genius. LONDON ATLAS. GOD'S FIRST TEMPLES. THE groves were God's first temples. Ere man learn’d To hew the shaft, and lay the architrave, And spread the roof above them, ere he framed That, from the stilly twilight of the place, And from the gray old trunks, that, high in heaven, Should we, in the world's riper years, neglect Only among the crowd, and under roofs That our frail hands have raised? Let me, at least, Here, in the shadow of the ancient wood, Offer one hymn; thrice happy, if it find Acceptance in His ear. Father, Thy hand Hath reared these venerable columns: Thou Didst weave this verdant roof. Thou didst look down All these fair ranks of trees. They in Thy sun Here are seen No traces of man's pomp or pride; no silks The boast of our vain race to change the form That run along the summits of these trees In music; Thou art in the cooler breath, In the tranquillity that Thou dost love, Passes; and yon clear spring, that, 'midst its herbs, Of half the mighty forests, tells no tale Of all the good it does. Thou hast not left Thyself without a witness, in these shades, Of Thy perfections. Grandeur, strength, and grace In all the proud old world beyond the deep, Wears the green coronal of leaves with which My heart is awed within me when I think Lo! all grow old and die; but see, again, O, there is not lost After the flight of untold centuries, The freshness of her far beginning lies, And yet shall lie. Life mocks the idle hate Dost scare the world with tempests, set on fire The swift, dark whirlwind, that uproots the woods W. C. BRYANT. THE NATURE OF TRUE ELOQUENCE. TRUE RUE eloquence does not consist in speech. It cannot be brought from far. Labor and learning may toil for it, but they will toil in vain. Words and phrases may be marshaled in every way, but they cannot compass it. It must exist in the man, in the subject, and in the occasion. Affected passion, intense expression, the pomp of declama' tion, all may aspire after it,-they cannot reach it. It comes, if it comes at all, like the outbreaking of a fountain from the earth, or the bursting forth of volcanic fires, with spontaneous, original, native force. The graces taught in the schools, the costly ornaments, and studied contrivances of speech, shock and disgust men, when their own lives, and the fate of their wives, their children, and their country hang on the decision of the hour. Then words have lost their power, rhetoric is vain, and all elaborate oratory contemptible. Even genius itself then feels rebuked and subdued, as in the presence of higher qualities. Then patriotism is eloquent; then self-devotion is eloquent. The clear conception, outrunning the deductions of logic, the high purpose, the firm resolve, the dauntless spirit, speaking on the tongue, beaming from the eye, informing every feature, and urging the whole man onward, right onward to his object,—this, this is eloquence; or, rather, it is something greater and higher than all eloquence: it is action, noble, sublime, Godlike action. DANIEL WEBSTER. SIR ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE. IR Orpheus, whom the poets have sung Was, you may remember, a famous musician,— On trees and stones in forest and dell! |