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Column on column prest in close array,
Dark tempests thicken o'er the watery way.
Heaven poured in torrents, rushes on the plain,
And with wide deluge sweeps the floating grain ;
The dikes o'erflow, the flooded channels roar,
Vexed ocean's foaming billows rock the shore:
The Thunderer, thron'd in clouds, with darkness crown'd,
Bares his red arm, and flashes lightnings round.
The beasts are fled; earth rocks from pole to pole-
Fear walks the world, and bows th' astonished soul;
Jove rides with fiery bolt Ceraunia's brow,
Or Athos blazing 'mid eternal snow.
The tempest darkens, blasts redoubled rave,
Smite the hoarse wood, and lash the howling wave.

Translation of W. SOTHEBY.

TO THE RAINBOW.

Loveliest of the meteor train,
Girdle of the summer rain-
Finger of the dews of air,
Glowing vision, fleet as fair;
While the evening shower retires,
Kindle thy unhurting fires,
And among the meadows near,
Thy refulgent pillar rear;
Or amid the dark-blue cloud,
High thine orbed glories shroud;
Or the moistend hills between,
Bent in mighty arch be seen;
Through whose sparkling portals wide,
Fiends of storm and darkness ride.

Like Cheerfulness, thou art wont to gaze
Always on the brightest blaze;
Canst from setting suns deduce
Varied gleams and sprightly hues;
And on low’ring gloom imprint
Smiling streaks of gayest tint.

R. SOUTHEY, 1774-1850.

THE WINDY NIGHT.

Alow and aloof,

Over the roof,
How the midnight tempests howl!

With a dreary voice, like the dismal tune
Of wolves that bay at the desert moon;

Or whistle and shriek
Through limbs that creek,
" Tu-who! Tu-whit!”

They cry and flit, “ Tu-whit! Tu-who !” like the solemn owl!

Alow and aloof,

Over the roof,
Sweep the moaning winds amain,

And wildly dash

The elm and ash,
Clattering on the window sash,

With a clatter and patter,
Like hail and rain,
That well might shatter
The dusky pane!

Alow and aloof,

Over the roof,
How the tempests swell and roar!

Though no foot is astir,

Though the cat and the cur
Lie dozing along the kitchen floor;

There are feet of air
On every stair!
Through every hall-
Through each gusty door,
There's a jostle and bustle,

With a silken rustle,
Like the meeting of guests at a festival!

Alow and aloof,

Over the roof,
How the stormy tempests swell!:

And make the vane

On the spire complainThey heave at the steeple with might and main,

And burst and sweep

Into the belfry, on the bell !
They smite it so hard, and they smite it so well,

That the sexton tosses his arms in sleep,
And dreams he is ringing a funeral knell !

T. B. READ.

A SHOWER.

FROM COWPER'S LETTERS.

It has pleased God to give us rain, without which this part of our country, at least, must soon have become a desert. The meadows have been parched to a January brown, and we have foddered our cattle for some time, as in winter. The goodness and power of God are never, I believe, so universally acknowledged as at the end of a long drought. Man is naturally a self-sufficient animal, and in all concerns that seem to lie within the sphere of his own ability thinks little or not at all of the need he always has of protection and furtherance from above. But he is sensible that the clouds will not assemble at his bidding; and that, though the clouds assemble, they will not fall in showers because he commands them. When, therefore, at last the blessing descends, you shall hear even in the streets the most irreligious and thoughtless with one voice exclaim, " Thank God !" confessing themselves indebted to his favor, and willing, at least so far as words go, to give Him the glory. I can hardly doubt, therefore, that the earth is sometimes parched, and the crops endangered, in order that the multitude may not want a memento to whom they owe them, nor absolutely forget the power on which all depend for all things. Letter to S. Rose, Esq., June 23, 1788.

W. COWPER, 1731-1800.

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On earth deliver'd from the deep,

And the first poet sang.

Nor ever shall the Muse's eye

Unraptur'd greet thy beam;
Theme of primeval prophecy,

Be still the poet's theme!

The earth to thee her incense yields,

The lark thy welcome sings,
When glittering in the freshen'd fields,

The snowy mushroom springs.

How glorious is thy girdle cast

O'er mountain, tower, and town,
Or mirror'd in the Ocean vast,

A thousand fathonis down!

As fresh in yon horizon dark,

As young thy beauties seem,
As when the eagle from the ark

First sported in thy beam.

For faithful to its sacred page,

Heaven still rebuilds thy span,
Nor lets the type grow pale with age,
That first spoke peace to man.

TH. CAMPBELL, 1777-1841.

THE HURRICANE.

I had left the village of Shawaney, situated on the banks of the Ohio, on my return to Hewlerson, which is also situated on the banks of the same beautiful stream. The weather was pleasant, and I thought not warmer than usual at that season. My horse was jogging quietly along, and my thoughts were for once, at least, in the course of my life, entirely engaged in commercial speculations. I had forded Highland Creek, and was on the eve of entering a tract of bottom-land, or valley that lay between it and Canoe Creek, when on a sudden I remarked a great difference in the aspect of the heavens. A hazy thickness had overspread the country, and I for some time expected an earthquake, but my horse exhibited no propensity to stop and prepare for such an occurrence. I had nearly arrived at the verge of the valley, when I thought fit to stop near Betr a brook, and dismounted to quench the thirst which had come upon me.

I was leaning on my knees, with my lips about to touch the water,

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when, from my proximity to the earth, I heard a distant murmuring sound of an extraordinary nature; I drank, however, and as I rose on my feet, looked toward the southwest, where I observed a yellowish, oval spot, the appearance of which was quite new to me. Little time was left me for consideration, as the next moment a smart breeze began to agitate the taller trees. It increased to an unexpected height, and already the smaller branches and twigs were seen falling in a slanting direction toward the ground. Two minutes had scarcely elapsed, when the whole forest before me was in fearful motion. Here and there, where one tree pressed against another, a creaking noise was produced. similar to that occasioned by the violent gusts which sometimes sweep over the country. Turning instinctively toward the direction from which the wind blew, I saw, to my great astonishment, that the noblest trees of the forest bent their lofty heads for a while, and, unable to stand against the blast, were falling into pieces. First, the branches were broken off with a crackling noise; then went the upper part of the massy trunks, and in many places whole trees of gigantic size were falling entire to the ground. So rapid was the progress of the storm, that before I could think of taking measures to insure my safety, the hurricane was passing opposite to the place where I stood. Never can I forget the scene which at that moment presented itself. The tops of the trees were seen moving in the strangest manner, in the central current of the tempest, which carried al with it a mingled mass of twigs and foliage, that completely obscured the view. Some of the largest trees were seen bending and writhing under the gale; others suddenly snapped across, and many, after a momentary resistance, fell uprooted to the earth. The mass of branches, twigs, foliage, and dust that moved through the air, was whirled onward like a cloud of feathers, and, on passing, disclosed a wide space filled with fallen trees, naked stumps, and heaps of shapeless ruins, which marked the path of the tempest. This space was about a fourth of a mile in breadth, and to my imagination resembled the dried-up bed of the Mississippi, with its thousands of planters and sawyers strewed in the sand, and inclined in various degrees. The horrible noise resembled that of the great cataracts of Niagara ; and as it howled along in the track of the desolating tempest, produced a feeling in my mind which it is impossible to describe.

The principal force of the hurricane was now over, although millions of twigs and small branches, that had been brought from a great distance, were seen following the blast, as if drawn onward by some mysterious power. They even floated in the air for some hours after, as if supported by the thick mass of dust that rose high above the ground. The sky had now a greenish, lurid hue, and an extremely disagreeable sulphureous odor was diffused in the atmosphere. I waited in amazement, having sustained no material injury, until nature at length resumed her wonted aspect. For some moments I felt undetermined

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