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TO NEPTUNE.

With many colours-many a monster keeps
His watch a near thee, while old Triton sleeps
As idly as his wont-and bright eyes peep
Upon thee every way as thou dost sleep.

Perhaps thou liest in some Indian isle,
Under a waving tree, where many a mile
Stretches a sunny shore, with golden sands
Heaped up in many shapes by Naiad's hands,
And blushing as the waves come rippling on,
Shaking the sunlight from them as they run
And curl towards the land-like molten gold
Thick set with jewelry most rare and old—
And sea nymphs sit, and with small delicate shells
Make thee sweet melody, as in deep dells
We hear of summer nights by fairies made,
The while they dance within some quiet shade,
And sound their silver flutes most low and sweet,
In strange but beautiful tunes, that their light feet
May dance upon the bright and misty dew
In better time; all wanton airs that blew
But lately over spice trees, now are here,
And wave their wings, all odour-laden, near
The bright and joyful sea. Oh! wilt thou rise
And come from them to our new sacrifice!

SACO FALLS.

BY JAMES T. FIELDS.

RUSH on, bold stream! thou sendest up Brave notes to all the woods around, When morning beams are gathering fast, And hushed is every human sound;

I stand beneath the sombre hill,

The stars are dim o'er fount and rill,
And still I hear thy waters play
In welcome music, far away;

Dash on bold stream! I love the roar

Thou sendest up from rock and shore.

And thundering down the river's

I see thy lengthened, darkling fo No voices from the vales are heard The winds are low,-each little bir Hath sought its quiet, rocking nest Folded its wings, and gone to rest, And still I hear thy waters play In welcome music, far away.

Oh! earth hath many a gallant sho
Of towering peak and glacier hei
But, ne'er beneath the glorious moo
Hath nature framed a lovelier sig
Than thy fair tide with diamonds fr
When every drop with light is caug
And o'er the bridge, the village girls
Reflect below their waving curls,
While merrily thy waters play
In welcome music, far away!

POWER OF MUSIC.

BY JOHN PIERPONT.

_rno's bosom, as he calmly flows,
scool arms round Vallombrosa throws,
his crystal tide through classic vales,
-at night,—the Italian boatman sails.
er Mont' Alto walks, in maiden pride,
queen; he sees her image on that tide,
ide the wave that curls its infant crest
his prow, then rippling sinks to rest;
littering dance around his eddying oar,
every sweep is echoed from the shore ;
ar before him, on a liquid bed

veless water, rest her radiant head.

ild the empire of that virgin queen!

ark the mountain's shade! how still the scene!

by her silver sceptre, zephyrs sleep

vy leaves, that overhang the deep,

re to whisper through the boughs, nor stir alley's willow, nor the mountain's fir,

Hark! 'tis a convent's bell:-its midni For music measures even the march of T O'er bending trees, that fringe the distant Gray turrets rise:—the eye can catch no The boatman, listening to the tolling bell, Suspends his oar:-a low and solemn swe From the deep shade, that round the cloist Rolls through the air, and on the water die What melting song wakes the cold ear of A funeral dirge, that pale nuns, robed in w Chant round a sister's dark and narrow be To charm the parting spirit of the dead. Triumphant is the spell! with raptured ear That uncaged spirit hovering lingers near;Why should she mount? why pant for brig A lovelier scene, a sweeter song, than this!

On Caledonia's hills, the ruddy morn Breathes fresh :-the huntsman winds his cla The youthful minstrel from his pallet spring Seizes his harp, and tunes its slumbering str Lark-like he mounts o'er gray rocks, thunde Lark-like he cleaves the white mist, tempestAnd lark-like carols, as the cliff he climbs,