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Eliot, Samuel A. Address before the Bos Practical Phrenology,

475
ton Acaderny of Music, on the opening Record of a School ; exemplifying the gen-
of the Odeon, August 5, 1835,

307 eral principles of Spiritual Culture, 226
Everett, Edward. An Address, delivered Ship and Shore; or, Leaves from the Jour-
before the Literary Societies of Am-

nal of a Cruise to the Levant,

386

herst College, August 35, 1835,

462 Six Months in a House of Correction, 140

Everett, Edward. An Address, delivered Specimens of the Table-Talk of the late
at Bloody- Brook, in South Deerfield, Samuel Taylor Coleridge,

217
Septeinber 30, 1835, in Commemoration Tesoretto del Studente della Lingua Ital:
of the Fall of the · Flower of Essex,' at iana, o Raccolta di brevi e dilettevoli
that spot, in king Philip's War, Sep annédotti da L. Sforzosi; con note ex-
tember 18, (0.S.) 1676,

462

plicative in Inglese da Francesco M. G.
Fellows, John, A. M. An Exposition of

S**., etc.

382
the Mysteries or Religious Dogmas and The Boston Book,

305

Customs of the Ancient Egyptians, Py The Brothers; a Tale of the Fronde, 388

thagoreans, and Druids. Also, An In The Gipsey; a Tale,

220

quiry into the Origin, History, and Pur The Hawks' of Hawk-Hollow; a Tradi:

port of Freemasonry,

471 tion of Pennsylvania,

408

Gallagher, William D. Errato, 138 The Infidel; or the fall of Mexico, 69

Harvardiana. Vol. 2, No. 1,

381 The Linwovds; or, Sixty Years Since in

Helon's Pilgrimage to Jerusalem ; a Pic-

America,

380

ture of Judaisin in the century which The Magnolia, 1836,

469

preceded the Advent of our Saviour. The Miseries of Human Life; or, the

From the German of Frederick Strauss, 75 Groans of Samuel Sensitive and Timo-

Hemans, Mrs. Felicia, the Poetical Works thy Testy, with a few Supplementary

of, complete in one vol.; with a Critical Sighs from Mrs. Testy,

298

Preface,

468 The Monikins,

136

Hillard, Geo. S. An Oration, pronounced The Musical Library,

302

before the inhabitants of Boston, July 4, The Student's Manual,

1835, in Commemoration of American The Token and Atlantic Souvenir, 294

Independence,

142 The Wife and Wonian's Reward,

227

Horse Shoe Robinson; a Tale of the Tory Waterston, R. C. An Address, delivered

Ascendancy,

390 before the Sunday School Society of

Horticultural Register and Gardener's

Newbury port, at their third Anniver-

Magazine,

139

sary,

385

Indian Nullification,

79

Willard and Phelps, Mesdames. Progres.

Italian Sketch-Book,

141 sive Education. Translated from the

Irving, Washington, Beauties of,

379 French of Madame Neckar de Saussure, 223

Knapp, Samuel L. Life of Aaron Burr, 143
Legends of a Log-Cabin,
472 LITERARY ANNOTANDA,

144
Moore, N. F., L. L. D, Lectures on the

232

Greek Language and Literature,

311

312

Old Maids; their Varieties, Characters,

392

and Conditions,

375

Outre-Mer; a Pilgrimage beyond the Sea, 68

Monthly RECORD,

80
Parsons, Theophilus. An Address, deliv.
ered before the Phi Beta Kappa Society

OBITUARY.
of Harvard University, August 27, 1835,
on the Duties of Educated Men in a Re Benjamin Lincoln, M. D.

145

public,

303 Chief Justice Marshall, ::

150

Pike, Alberi. Prose Sketches and Poems,

written in the Western Country, 52 To the Readers and Correspondents of the

Plan of Boston,

391

New-England Magazine,

479

.

.

66

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THE

NEW-ENGLAND MAGAZINE.

JULY, 1835.

ORIGINAL PAPERS.

SHELLS AND SEA-WEEDS.

I.

THE DEPARTURE.

AGAIN thy winds are pealing in mine ear!
Again thy waves are flashing in my sight !
Thy memory-haunting tones again I hear,
As, through the spray, our vessel wings her flight !
On thy cerulean breast, now swelling high,
Again, thou broad Atlantic, am I cast !
Six years, with noiseless tread, have glided by,
Since the unsounded deep I traversed last.
The sea-birds o'er me wheel, as if to greet
An old companion ; on my naked brow,
The sparkling foam-drops not unkindly beat ;
Flows through my hair the fresh’ning breeze

Th’ horizon's ring enclasps me ; and I stand,
Gazing where fades from view, cloud-like, my father-land !

- and now

II.

THE GALE.

The night came down in terror. Through the air,
Mountains of clouds, with lurid summits rolled ;
The lightning kindling with its vivid glare
Their outlines as they rose, heaped fold on fold.
The wind, in fitful sughs, swept o’er the sea ;
And then a sudden lull, gentle as sleep,
Soft as an infant's breathing, seemed to be
Lain, like enchantment, on the throbbing deep.
But, false the calm ! for soon the strengthened gale
Burst, in one loud explosion, far and wide,

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Drowning the thunder's voice! With every sail
Close-reefed, our groaning ship heeled on her side ;

The torn waves combed the deck ; while, o'er the mast,
The meteors of the storm a ghastly radiance cast !

III.

MORNING AFTER THE GALE.

Bravely our trim ship rode the tempest through ;
And, when the exhausted gale had ceased to rave,
How broke the day-star on the gazer's view !
How flushed the Orient every crested wave !
The sun threw down his shield of golden light,
In fierce defiance on the ocean's bed ;
Whereat, the clouds betook themselves to flight,
Like routed hosts, with banners soiled and red.
The sky was soon all brilliance, east and west ;
All traces of the gale had passed away -
The chiming billows, by the breeze caressed,
Tossed lightly from their heads the feathery spray.

Ah ! thus may Hope's auspicious star again
Rise o’er the troubled soul, where gloom and grief have been !

IV.

TO A LAND BIRD.

Thou wanderer from green fields and leafy nooks !
Where blooms the flower and toils the honey-bee-
Where odorous blossoms drift along the brooks,
And woods and hills are very fair to see —
Why hast thou left thy native bough to roam,
With drooping wing, far o'er the briny billow ?
Thou canst not, like the petrel, cleave the foam,
Nor, like the osprey, make the wave thy pillow.
Thou 'rt like those fine-toned spirits, gentle bird !
Which, from some better land, to this rude life
Seem borne — they struggle, 'mid the common herd,
With powers unfitted for the selfish strife!

Haply, at length, some zephyr wasts them back
To their own home of peace, across the world's dull track.

v.

A THOUGHT OF THE PAST.

I woke from slumber at the dead of night,
Stirred by a dream which was too sweet to last
A dream of boyhood's season of delight ;
It flashed along the dim shapes of the past !
And, as I mused upon its strange appeal,
Thrilling my heart with feelings undefined,'
Old memories, bursting from Time's icy seal,

Rushed, like sun-stricken fountains, on my mind.
Scenes, among which was cast my early home,
My favorite haunts, the shores, the ancient woods,
Where, with my schoolmates, I was wont to roam,
Green, sloping lawns, majestic solitudes –

All rose before me, till, by thought beguiled,
Freely I could have wept, as if once more a child.

VI.

TROPICAL WEATHER.

We are within the tropics, where the days
Are an eternal summer to the eye ;
The sea sends back the noontide's fervent blaze,
And, in its lucent depths, reflects the sky.
Full in our wake, the smooth, warm trade-winds blowing,
To their unvarying goal still faithful run ;
And as we steer, with sails before them flowing,
Nearer the zenith daily climbs the sun.
The flying-fish in shoals about us skim,
Glossed, like the humming-bird, with rainbow dyes ;
And, as they dip into the water's brim,
Swift in pursuit the preying dolphin hies.

All, all is fair ; and, gazing round, we feel
The South’s soft languor gently o’er our senses steal.

VII.

NIGHT.

But, oh! the night — the cool, luxurious night,
Which closes round us when the day grows dim,
And the sun sinks from his meridian height,
Behind the ocean's occidental rim !
Clouds, in their streaks of purple, green and red,
Gather around his setting, and absorb
The last rich rays of glory, that are shed,
In wide profusion, from his failing orb.
And now the moon, her lids unclosing, deigns
To smile serenely on the charmed sea,
That shines as if inlaid with lightning chains,
From which it hardly struggled to be free.

Swan-like, with motion unperceived, we glide,
Touched by the downy breeze, and favored by the tide.

VIII.

THE PLANET JUPITER.

Ever, at night, have I looked first for thee,
O'er all thy astral sisterhood supreme !
Ever, at night, have I looked up to see
The diamond-lustre of thy quivering beam ;

Shining sometimes through pillowy clouds serene,
As they part from thee, like a loosened scroll ;
Sometimes unveiled, in all thy native sheen,
When no dark vapors underneath thee roll.
Bright planet ! ever let thy welcome ray,

like joy, illuminate my soul :
The world's attrition changes us, they say,
And turns the strong-eyed eagle to a mole:

Ah, 't is not so ! bright things are aye the same
To him, who keeps undimmed his own heaven-kindled flame.

As now,

IX.

TO

Leagues of blue ocean are between us spread ;
And I cannot behold thee, save in dreams !
I cannot bear the music round thee shed,
I do not see the light that from thee gleams.
Fairest and best ! ’mid summer joys, ah, say,
Dost thou e'er think of one, who thinks of thee —
Th’ Atlantic-wanderer who, day by day,
Looks for thy image in the deep, deep sea ?
Long months, and years perchance, may pass away,
Ere he shall gaze upon thy face again ;
He cannot know what rocks and quicksands lay
Before him, on the Future's shipless main ;

But, thanked be Memory! there are treasures still,
Which the triumphant mind holds subject to its will.

POESIE

If ever I have wronged thy art sublime,
Sweet Poesie ! (full many do such wrong)
Disguising, in gilt words and barren rhyme,
Trite thoughts, which never could to thee belong —
Humbly I ask thee to absolve me now,
For all my wanton deficits of sense:
Prostrate, before thy veiled shrine I bow ;
This is my last, if not my least offence !
But if — O nymph divine !- I e'er have strayed
Beside the margin of thy fair domain -
If I have loved to loiter in the shade,
And watched for thy bright presence, not in vain

The time has come, when I no more may dwell
'Mid thy bewildering scenes. Accept my last farewell!

At Sea, May 5, 1835,

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