after having come to their senses, how few would contradict the narrative of the good old man above cited!

They love 'till love becomes unpleasant,
Then hatred assumes hear seat.

SPECTATOR,

The Poets Dream.

A careless Youth, by passion once impelle'd,
Seized a lone Harp, that on a willow hung
And while the muses sought the upper sky,
Thus to its measured tones responsive sung.

When sable Night, her silent reign begins,
And starry spheres, smile from the azure sky,
Wild Fancy then her golden pinion spreads
And seeks her native element on high.
Where wakes the soul, at midnights starlit hour,
When falling dews, revive the weping lawn;
There thronging waves of floating visions crowd,
That in the mind a being have, and form.
When faded scenes, the souls deep glance restores,
And memory's tones, fall sweetly on the ear;
The gentle throb, that stirs within the breast,
Betrays the tender-transport, wakened there.
The string that pours this rapture through the soul,
Is touched by Fancy's spirit-stiring hand
And gloomy objects rise in pleasing robes,

When fancy points us to the silent band.

See where lone Melancholy, wrapped iu sable robe,
With sallow-vissage marked, and grief-worn eyes,
Steals from the group, when cheerful mirth presides
On midnights ear, to pour her broken sighs-
Why on her ear, does silence breathe a tone?
And in her eye, a form will darkness wear?
That cheers, the lonely desert of her soul,

The gloomy ruins of her heart repair?
Here! near this blasted oak, the tempest tore,
With fire-lit eye, and glowing cheek, and warm;
Behold a Youth, with transport-passion, feels,
A deep-toned rapture, in the raging storm;
What spirit calls that lightning from his eye
And sheds that glory, oer his fervid cheek?
Where dwells that formless seraph of the storm,
That wakes his passion from inglorious sleep?
What pilgrim form,* invades those lofty snows,
Scaling with Royal arm, the mountain's side,
Where to the clouds, the Crater-peak aspires,
Whose hoary belt, enzones the fiery tide ?→
*Empedocles.

A towering thought, lies cradled in that heart,
Which lights a beaming glory in his eye;
That fiery surge, shall bear him to the skies,
An throne him there-Eternal Deity!

Stand where the Ocean heaves its sullen wave,
And swelling surges, sigh along the shore,
Where skims, the sea-bird, long its foamless crest,
The raging-winds, and thunder-tempest oer:
Why from the sacred chambers of the soul,
Leap into life the passions from their nest?
Why moves our spirit with the heaving tide,
As roll'd a sister ocean in the breast?

Go where gray Rome in broken fragments lies,

Or sorrowing Thebes, sighs through her desert halls; Where Ivy'd arch allures; or falling tower,

Or death-toned echo, mocks the owlits call,

Here fancy breathes a sadness, though the soul,

That prompts the mourners sigh, the hearts mute tear Here mind reigned; thought and feeling, passion burned, And lo! thought, feeling, glory's crumbling bier

That blazing glare, that wounds the tempest-cloud ; That angry bolt, that cleaves the rock-based tower; That swell of song-the bodying forth of love;

That deep-hued blush--that dark-eye's magic power. The deep blue sky, unchequered by a cloud;

The lightning-storm, that shakes the central pole ; The soaring eagle, wheeling 'mid the clouds,

Gain all their charm, from Fancy's power alone.—

Oh mind! thou viewless, formless thing!
Denied a voice, to speak thy nature out;
A scene of over-changing mists art thou,
Which Fancy haunts with magic of her art.
Truth's sacred pillar reared within the breast!
The hive of thought! or sorrow's rayless vault!
The golden ura, where mighty passions sleep,

The forge, where Genius moulds her lightning bolt.
Thou fleeting, but immortal, boundless thought!
Thou spirit, and a mavel deathless art;
Thou breathest, burnest, reignest, though the soul,
The minds sole tenant! priestess of the heart!-
Methinks some traceless seraph of the breast,
Stained by no mortal eye, thy holy fane,
A voiceless echo, breathing through the soul,
A throb-a tone-words multiplied are vain ;

Within the sacred cloister of the heart,

No voice is heard but thine, nor breathed a tone,

A starless midnight, secret as the tomb

When thought's still footstep traverses alone. Go! mighty spirit from my mursing breast

Though every word, a soul-a passion breathe The mind that reads, the tender heart that feels, The burning workings of my soul bequeath.

Thus sang the Youth; and as his numbers roll'd,
The muses caught the écho in the sky,
Repentant now, with winged haste they come,
And to the musing band, thus mildly cry-
"Hush not thy harp, fond Youth! awake those tones,
That float all sweetly 'long the listning air,
For in thy strain such fervid feeling glows

As seems a seraph, breathed its passion there"

EVERY mouth was shut with terror, every eye was fixed by the dread spectacle before them, and every heart was oppressed with the backward rush of blood. The deep, crashing explosions of the guns as they were flying in the air, and the seas of flame, the bursting of powder kegs seemed as if a thousand meteors had joined in one fiery revelry. The spectacle was awfully magnificient! 'Twas terrific, and grand beyond the imagination. The long drawn breath of the trembling Infidels sounded like the murmurs of the breeze. The cry of "Fire!" came in chilling accents upon the solemn air, and then was heard the energetic tones of the Turkish officers as they issued forth their orders to extinguish the flames.

"Ha! ha! ha!" shouted Jordano, in the cars of Julie and his

sister. Glory to Mahomet, and glory to Greece! That was a note that shall roll across the waters, and startle slumbering Greece, that shall fill the coward's heart with valor, and shake the flinty foundations of a tyrant's cruelty. From this hour shall the Morea date her Liberty, and Europe the birth of a nation. Ha ha! for the Infidels! Glory to the Longbeards! five broadsides into a mock fireship! Fireship! Fireship!' along the whole fleet! Victory! Victory!' Ha! ha! a glorious Victory!" and he reeled from side to side, yelling with demoniac glce. At these words, which poured fresh sorrows upon her heart, Julie fell to the ground with a shriek, and seemed to have taken a farewell of all future suffering.

The cry of distress arrested the wandering mind of Jordano, and caused him to bend over the quivering form of his partner, and to clasp her to his bosom as if his last joy on earth was fast fading.— He raised her from the cold marble, and laid her upon a couch in his gloomy habitation. "This way!" shouted some one in the passage. "This way! my bravos, here we catch the christian dogs." Four ruffian Turks burst open the grating door, bearing torches in their hands, and dripping with blood. They were a true picture of their calling, terrific of countenance, and harsh in their tones. A smile of hellish triumph curled around their mouths, and as they glanced their eyes at the two females, they assumed a more horrid grin, (and laughed outright at the prospect of more blood and more misery.) "Ha!" thundered forth Jordano, "ye have come at last, ye Infidel villains! Ye are not satisfied with your fill of blood, but ye must hunt us out like rabbits, and hold your carnival over us. 'Tis not enough that ye have left us to starve, but ye must cut our throats to make sure of your prey. Ye have blood enough already upon your shirts to damn you, and little will ye find in us; your work was almost done, ere ye polluted this place with your unholy visages. I am ready for ye, single handed against ye all-do your business quickly. I have but little strength, but you' must pass over my body, ere ye lay unholy hands on these helpless beings-come now if ye would taste my blood!" The murderer's fire sparkled in their eyes, and the deep grin of irony settled on their lips, when they saw the knotty club which he held menacingly in his hand, and the advantage he had gained by stationing himself at the entrance of a recess, whither his sister had retreated, dragging along the unconscious Julie. They stood an instant spell bound by the awful pallor of his countenance, the hard compression of the lip, and the settled determination of his whole manner; then, like hungry lions, bounded forward to drag him to the ground.

But the Herculean club was not to be encountered with impunity by the tender skulls of the Turks, especially when wielded by a maniac's hand. One of them reeled back, throwing out his hands as if grasping for some support, and then fell like a log upon the ground. The others recoiled, gazing with horror upon their companion's quivering body, then bending their fierce, and glowing eyes upon their desperate adversary. "Cluster not there," shouted he, 'I stand ready for ye- I have finished one-come on-to your work with a will-ye'll find me no beggar. Aye, come, and revenge your murderous confedarate-I prepared the match-I sunk the

powder-I dragged along the mock fireship--I strewed the sea with the dead-I dare ye! dare ye!" and he gnashed his teeth, jambed his heel into the ground, and whirled his club high above his head with the ferocity of a bearded tyger. One of the ruffians stepped back a few paces, and drew from his side a heavy pistol, and brought it to a level with the maniac's heart. The ball, and club were sent at the same instant, and both took effect. Jordano staggered back to the father end of the recess, but immediately recov ering, resumed his former position, leaning against the wall. But with such precision and force was the club hurled, that it struck the Turk in his forehead, and literally tore the skull from its socket.The remaining two saw their comrade fall; they wavered an instant, then sprung upon the defenceless Jordano. "Away! ye minions of hell, away! "9 burst out from his chest in accents so deep and awful, that the very Infidels fancied they heard the angry tones of a superior being. One awe stricken villain recoiled before the haughty gesture of his antagonist, but the other less fearful dared to grasp the bleeding arm of one whom he had imagined was e worn out, powerless being. But he found himself most unceremoniously gotten under way for the farther side of the apartment, whither he arrived in due time.

The rays of a lamp, as they struggled through the thick darkness, threw upon the wall the shadowy outlines of three or four more forms, whose ugly visages came peering through the gloom. Those, who had had the first physical interview with our sufferer, had supposed him to be, a weak broken spirited, subtle dissembler; but they saw from the livid glare of his eye, the fierce energy of his gestures, the thrilling accents of his voice, and the o'ermastering strength of his limbs, that he was a body of resistless energies, a spirit of demons, roused up by the merciless lashings of mental furies. Before his unwavering gaze, and the unflinching attitude of his body, the awe stricken miscreants quailed and shrunk.

Confusion! darkness! "Back! away!" shouted Jordano, as he saw the approach of his enemies, "avaunt! else I will lash you with a whip of scorpions; drag ye over beds of burning coals, and consign ye to unutterable wo! Begone! begone! A deep and heavy groan of distress burst from the chest of the reviving Julie. In an instant Jordano was bending over her in agonizing earnestThe ruffians gazed upon the sad scene with exquisit delight, mingled with a hankering for deeper, and more soul piercing John

ness.