The Cecil Whig., 1856-10-18

Nor yet, though mornings gilded rays
On roof and field and woodland blaze,
Forgets against the dawn to pour
The wealth Of his eXhaustless lore?
Far in the deep and holy night,
Great, solemn mother Of the stars,
, Whilst DER the wall, in haunted light,
The sad moon slants her pallid bars
Oh, then wild and sudden strain .
Comes like cloud Of golden rain
So strangely sweet and wild tone
Steals on the midnight dim aid lone,
So swectly clear its accents come
Across the still nights drowsy. gloom,
deem some angel form hath stray'd
Earthward from courts that shine on high,
Once more to walk the fragrant shade,
And link again the earth and sky.
Thou, from whose all-creating hand,
On lifeless space each rush ing world,
To roll amidst the shining band,
Upon creations morn, was hurrd,
And whose mysterious tender sway
Still guides it on its radiant WY,
Give me to fear that plastic SKILL
Which grants to oarth's must lowly things,
The glorious garb, the potent skill,
Unbought by all the pomp of kings
Which gives to one the wreath and crown,
To one, Disasters iron frown,
And with wild birds gushing bill,
The boast of human art can still, -
And drown tho Tyre and shame the lutc,
And make the billowy organ mute.
Perched'on yon topmost. glittering thorn,
Bright leader of the choiring throng,
Ills heart against the cheek of morn,
Exults the hero of my song;
His dark eye flashing in the sun,
From swelling throat and amorous bill,
The mdsie-tidcs leap up and run
In clarion wave aud lisping rill-
o, not a love-chant eer was sung,
And not lay was ever rung
From roof or bough, by airy tongue
o, not a trembling note or strain
Along the summer gale is roll'd,
But, tangled in that wondious brain,
Is stored like sands Of native gold,
10 be, from his green, dewy throne,
In ripping mirth or anthem tone,
Pour'd forth to qaiyer. burn, and die
Along the lonely, listening sky,
And brighter glow the maiden's eyes,
And children clap their hands to hear
Such wild, imperial melodies
As we'll might suit sinless sphere.
Exulting with an airy. bound,
As tired of carth's familiar ground,
Like some sweet thought, on fan-like wings,
He toward the glittering welkin springs,
There hangs like melodious cloud,
The shower and music's pearly shroud,
Then backward to his perch, that bends
Beneath his regal feet, descends
Asif, with joys deep vintage drunk,
He to his earthly bower had sunk.
Thus newly perch'd, he sings and sings,
And round his breezy challenge aings,
And forth his tuneful discord rings
From quick to slow, from gay 10 grave,
With wave succeeding golden wave;
Now from the tall oaks topmost bough
He pours his silver rain, and now
From sloping roof or garden.pale,
With sweetness falls the lingering gale,
Now DER the furrowed fields afar,
Curves downward like a shooting star,
That from its pathway backward pours
An anthem towards the heavenly shores;
Now on the lowly cotton crest
His broad and cleaning pinions rest,
And shaking with his dappled plumes
The gold-dust from its yellow blooms,
With rosy storm and diamond shower,
To silence charms the monday hour.
All spirits Of sweet sound that dwell
In the soft flutes melodious cell,
And all the lute-like tones that Sleep
Far In the wildwood, dark and deep,
The blue birds chirp. the noisy wren,
The partridge piping from the glen,
The martin calling from the caves
The red-bird from his bower ofleayes,
The lark that toward his nestlings pours
Agreeing, as be sunward soars-
All breathe and burn within thy lay,s
Wild warbler on the Southern spray;
And crown thee first Of tuneful throngs,
Bird Of the thousand silver songs! &.
MiNEEx, La.