New-York daily tribune., 1844-11-06

Had left their Heaven-wrough. NANTES foatiGg
there,
And hied them to their tasks.
Where yon pale light
Shines through the locust boushs, watcher sits,
And counts the feeble ,hrobbings OF heart
That will not beat tomorrow. There lies one,
Who. through the aowery vale Of youth, came up,
And glanced on life and while It's morning dew
Was fresh upon his lip, and nenhcod's sun
showered its 6rst rays around him, he hath bowed
Low, at an unseen stroke, and the bright flowers
That Hope had twined in beauty round his brow
Lie withering on his couch. The soul doth still
Clean through those spiritual eyes, but with alighl
That is moi Of this world; and the low voice
That breathes aleng those pa!Iid lips tonight
Ia Weakening It's last music. In what spot,
Amid those deepened shades Of night, Goth now
He ofthe bended bow and palid steed,
Await his victim Through what airy paths
Do the attendant angels come and 60,
That cheer his spirt7 On what downy cloud
In hesven's pavilion, rcrts the cherub throng,
With ready hands, and golden harps a,;uned,
Waiting his hearts las; pulsiDgs, ere they wake
Their songs of welcome, and convey BIN home 2
The village sleeps-lhe solemn shadows lie
Unmoyed around me, and the sentinel stars
Wheel slowly with their watch-6rea down the
Heavens
SEQ no more; and yet my spirit thrills
A ifa thousand kindred voices walked
Its inmos, echoes, and my eve doth seek,
10 vain, soms ray that shall embody forms,
That must, though ell unseen, be ingeriog near.
o, Night! thou spreadest thy dusky curtains forth
And strange awe steals DER us-the dim shapes
That throne the ysioD faint and underlined
sesm but the shadowing forth ofthings unseen,
And yet eternal; and sacred voice,
Unheard amid the buster glare OF day,
Awakes within our bosom, N a song
Ofuuiet gladuess, or broken stIain
Ofmelancholy music-as some touch,
Forgotten, yet familiar, swept DER chords
Untuued and shattered, but retaining still
The rich and thrilling sweetness oi tone
on heard, we know not where-that nv site tone
That binds our souls 10 past and future being
With meaning fraught bat never understood.
Like the lone bird that, from ts native groves
Borne, ere iis songs were beard and, all untaught,
Pours from its prison-houss its saddened strains,
When hrst there falls upon It's wondering ear,
Some passing note of wildwood mins,relsy;
We pause, and list-and psuse, and listen still;
Add strive in wan 10 ring the echo back.
There are mysterious things in earth and air,
Above US and around, but moef within;
And the far-reachng thought goes to and fro,
Seeking from whence it came, and where i, tends
What world its source, and whsrs its limit lies;
Wildered and lost in each successive search
I, turns, and turns again, and finds ne bound;
And the weak heart beats with q deeper thrill,
Startled with its own rulsngs.
From the vale
OF cold oblivion comes the breathing throng
Up to the paths Of life, and, one by ono,
Strive to unravsl, with their feeble hands,
Existence tangled knot, but iud no clue,
And wearied with the frui,less toll sink back,
And darkness closes DER them. Yet they come,
Myriads on myriads, to the teemng world,
Trampling, with hurried feet, the naunts dust
Ofthrongs, the beatings ofwhose earnest hearts
Walked rhem from no,hingness; and pressing on,
Proud as war horse painting for the strife
Burning 10 waste their strength, or 6ud it vain.
Yet each existence, from its own decay,
Renews itseit--perpstusting still
The mystery which we cannot comprehend.
We fesl thy thrill, oh, LIE. from youth 10 age,
Bounding, or calni-iu vigor, or decay.
We gaze, oh, Death! upon the voiceiess forms
Who falt thy ,ouch and then must feel no more,
And yet what learn wei
Mid the my ste tones
That ever breathe within liz, snd around,
In that sweet foreign language, sill one hsrp
Gives TO the listener no uncertain sound
The chorns deep-the burden Of THAI song
Ia Immortality.
CA.r,in Oc. 1874 he. G.