The Rhode Island American, And General Advertiser

Miscellaneous

Selections.

FROM YAMOYDEN—A TALE OF THE WARS OF

KING PHILIP.

Hail sober evening! thee the harassed brain
And aching heart with fond orisons greet:
The respite thou, of toil; the balm of pain;
To thoughtful mind the hour for musing meet:
'Tis then—the sage, from forth his lone retreat,
The rolling universe around espies;
'Tis then the bard may hold communion sweet
With lovely shapes, unseen'd by grosser eyes,
And quick perception comes of fair mysteries.

The silent hour of bliss! when in the west
Her ardent crescent lights the star of love:
The spiritual hour! when creatures blest
Unseen return o'er former haunts to rove;
While sleep his shadowy mantle spreads above,
Sleep, brother of forgetfulness and death,
Round well known couch, with noiseless tread they rove,
In tones of heavenly music comfort breathe,
And tell what weal or bale shall chance the moon beneath.

Hour of devotion, like a distant sea,
The world's loud voices faintly murmuring die;
Responsive to the spheral harmony,
While grateful hymns are borne from earth on high.
As those, the Virgin Mother's meek, full eye,
Who met, if uninspired lore be true,
Felt a new birth within, and sin no longer knew.

Let others hail the oriflamme of morn,
O'er kindling hills unroll'd with gorgeous dyes!
O mild, blue evening—still to thee I turn,
With nobler thought, and with un dazzled eyes—
Where wealth and power with glare and splendour rise,
Let fools and slaves delighted incense burn
Still Memory's moonlight theatre let me prize
The great, the good, whose course is o'er, discern,
And from their glories past, time's mighty lessons learn!