He fell, and oh, what fancies stole

Through memory's vista bright and warm,
Till one loved image o'er his soul
Came like an angel in the storm.
But loudly swelled the bugle's blast,
His hand instinctive grasped the steel;
Again it swelled-but all was past,

The warrior's breast had ceased to feel.

AURORA BOREALIS.

Chill morning of the north! how wildly premature
The gorgeous flashings of thy beams

Have stained with blood the pale colure,-
Pouring through heaven volcanic streams,
That whirl in eddying currents round the pole
As fiery coursers circle round their goal.

Roll up the steeps of night thy bannered sheets of red, With chariots kindling as they run,

And battle columns deep and dread—
Then, southward, moving near the sun,
With rocket flame and signal: beating high,
Charge up the zenith of the tropic sky.

But when o'er Africa thy crimson eagles pause,
Let volumed thunders sternly peal,
Pleading humanity's sweet cause,

Till nations all her wrongs shall feel;
And let thy bloody signs in heaven remain
Till Ethiopia walk the earth again.

For God can hear her bitter wailing rise no more
Burdening the ear of weeping heaven,

And seas must wash her clotted shore

Whence all her kingly sons were driven,
To toil in chains till dying struggles paid
The body's ransom where its dust was laid.

THE ECLIPSE.

Roll on, inconstant moon, while millions gaze!
Thine hour of potency and pride hath come,
When thy pale orb, with shallow oceans hemmed,
With puny mountains strown, throws basely back
On the Fire Giant's flaming brow a frown
Cold as the chill penumbra of the tomb.

So the ungrateful heart forgets a friend,
And turns its leaden, dull opaque to dim
The smiles of goodness like the sunlight thrown
But to wake vipers from their frosty bed--
And, as a sun made brighter by eclipse,
The face of friendship, beaming through the fogs
Which a vile traitor's breath has blown abroad,
Shines godlike from the blue empyrean down
Upon the clay where reptiles generate and rot.
February 12, 1831.

THE YEAR MDCCCXXX.

Years pass-eternity remains unchanged-
That clime where mortal eye hath never ranged,
Where spirit armies drawn from death's domains
Look down in triumph on red battle plains:
No more to change or dust they bow the knee,
The high-born dwellers in eternity!

But earth rolls on through liquid seas of light,
Still dark with crime, and still with virtue bright;
One day a king is on his crimson throne-

The next he wanders in disguise alone :

One day a good man mourns with want beset

The next he wears a starry coronet.

A fearful year hath past!
A trumpet voice hath blown,
With wirldwind breath, a blast

That shakes each despot throne;

And traitor kings now bend the knee
Before the chiefs of liberty.

Oh, wilder yet may blow that trumpet tone,
And louder yet may bleeding victims groan-
For kings will grasp their crumbling thrones in death,
And yield their rights divine with parting breath;
Red o'er the Rhine the star of war may rise
And shed its baleful light on Europe's skies;

The Cossack on his hungry war horse turns
His fierce, broad eye, where thirst for conquest burns,
And bids his stormy drum for battle roll

To nerve for deeds of death his iron soul;

And France, great France! hath crushed her lilies down
And planted spear heads round the people's throne—

She bids her eagles scour the frontier clouds,
Where haste her youthful chivalry in crowds,
And once again may glorious Lafayette
Tread battle fields with life's red current wet.

Away from war and hate,

With olive branches crown'd,

At plenty's door we wait,

And strew our garlands round.

Long may our country underneath the tree
That bears the guardian flag of liberty,
Be earth's asylum where distress shall find,
A generous nation to misfortune kind.

ADDRESS.

Delivered April 30, 1328, at the Laying of the Corner Stone of M. E. Church, in North Bennet-street, Boston.

THE corner stone of our holy religion is Jesus Christ. All spiritual temples that rise to the glory of God, stand on this foundation.-For other foundation can no man lay than that is laid, which is Jesus Christ. Yet how sweetly did the circumstances of the dear Redeemer's death prefigure the laying of the corner stones of the earthly temples! Weary, bleeding and faint, the Lamb of God toiled up the steeps of Calvary. The earth was broken as we now have broken this earth, and the cross, a corner stone, was planted, that all succeeding temples might recognise this foundation, and glory in their origin.

It is a solemn transaction to lay the corner stone of a religious edifice-solemn, because celestial eyes are turned downwards during the solemnities-because He, who seeth from the beginning to the end, is noting every circumstance, and quite as dear to the bosom of Almighty Love, is the humble, feeble commencement, as the proud, triumphant conclusion. Yes, dear friends to the cause of Christ, in this labor of love-this offering of gratitude, you have the consolation to reflect that your Heavenly Father has already marked the outline of your rising temple that he has already seen the top-stone laid with joy-that he knoweth the sum of good to man,' which shall accrue from this enterprise, and how the joys of heaven shall be increased by the everlasting consequences that are to flow from the erection of this temple.

As we lay this stone, there is no need that we tell the

in

world what are the peculiar and distinguishing doctrines of the Methodist Episcopal Church. They have long been before the world-they have overcome the hosts of critical and theological opposition-they have commended themselves to the consciences of men, because the great founder of Methodism, laid down as one of his fundamental principles, what indeed should be engraven on every Methodist heart to the latest period of time,that he cordially gave his fellowship to all that was good every denomination of christians, departing only from their errors. And it is given us after the lapse of half a century, to contemplate the moral grandeur of Wesley's life and precepts. To reform the reformation after it had grown cold, after its living principles had become entombed in the ashes of a wordly establishment, was Wesley's high, apostolic purpose. How he succeeded, let the voices of three hundred thousand members of the English Wesleyan Church and the four hundred thousand of America answer. Yea, let the brightening prospects of the church generally-let the voice of a thousand revivals-let the mighty rushing sound of the Holy Spirit answer.

While we proclaim no creed; let us with holy gratitude thank God, our Father, for the previous volume of his holy word, which we receive without disputation, taking God our Father at his word, which we interpret from the common received version, according to the obvious meaning of the language. Let us thank God that this most precious word contains sincere promises