Harpers Ferry Free Press

THE MUSE'S SEAT:

"It is the gift of Poetry to consecrate every place in which it moves, to breathe around nature an odour more exquisite than the perfume of the rose, and to shed over it a tint more magical than the blush of the morning."

We do not recollect to have seen in any of our newspapers the following beautiful stanzas, which are copied from a file of the Calcutta Journal, with which we have been obligingly furnished. They appeared originally in the Cork Mercantile Chronicle.--R. I. American.

"Si Je te Perds, Je Suis Perdu"

Shine on: thou bright beacon
Unclouded and free;
From thy high place of calmness
O'er life's troubled sea:
This morning of promise,
Its smooth seas are gone;
And the billows rave wildly
Then, bright one, shine on:
The wings of the tempest
May rush o'er thy ray,
But tranquil thou smilest
Undimm'd by its sway;
High, high o'er the world's,
Where storms are unknown
Farewell! all beauteous
And glorious, alone.
From the deep womb of darkness
The lightning-flash leaps,
O'er the bark of my fortune
Each mad billow sweeps;
From the port of her safety
By warring winds driven,
And no light o'er her course
But yon lone one of heaven
Yet fear not, thou frail one.
The bourne may be near,
When our own sunny headlands
Far off shall appear;
When the voice of the storm
Shall be silent and past,
In some island of Heaven
We may anchor at last.
But, bark of Eternity,
Where art thou now?
The tempest-wave shrieks
O'er each plunge of thy prow
On the world's dreary ocean
Thus shattered and tost
Then, lone one, shine on,
If I lose thee, I'm lost

Cork, March 11, 1822

These lines were suggested by an impression on a seal representing a boat at sea, and a man at the helm looking up at a star, with the motto, Si je te perds, je suis perdu.--If I lose thee, I'm lost.