must be self subjugation. Without this, genius will act at random or to its own defeat. The mind must first become master of itself; its lawless force must be trained and disciplined, till at its bidding every faculty shall bend itself to the task, and their concentrated might be brought to bear unflinchingly and at pleasure on the object of pursuit. Such self conquest is the result of long and bitter toil, and nothing but the most unyielding spirit of enterprise will ever accomplish it. What matter if the sluggish tenement cringe and quail under the chafiings of this intellectual strife?-it is when the barque trembles upon the heaving surge, and its mast reels to the sweeping gale, that it speeds gallantly on the wings of the wind to its destined moorings. Let us see the developement of mind n all its native energy-in the noble and unwavering purpose-in kindred and consistent action; when its object is one of fitting worth or exigence may make the demand, let us see the whole soul wrought up to the struggle-every faculty lashed to its post-every mental nerve strained to its utmost tension-every recreant thought bent untiringly to its object—and the whole man, flesh and spirit absorbed in the effort—all moving onward to the glorious resultand I say that impossibility alone can prove an effectual bar to its mastering grasp, and no power short of Omnipotence can impose a fetter on its giant energy. Such enterprise has in it more of sublimity than the conquest of a hemisphere. The spirit that once throned an Alexander on a world of subjugated foes, has, it may be, wrought for itself a dazzling immortality; but it is blackened with the abiding curse of misery and blood. Yet this was enterprise, which, well directed, had scattered blessings as widely as it dealt the scourge. Literature lays open a wide field for refined intellectual enterprize, involving less of peril and daring, and therefore less brilliant in the eyes of the world than that which deals in coronets and kingdoms; but not less grand in its objects, and far more exempt from the bitterness of disappointed aims and the merited scourgings of conscious guilt. More firmness of mind- -more tireless perseverance-more moral valor is involved in the self-rewarding toil that masters thoroughly the thousand difficulties attendant upon a protracted course of mental discipline, than ever crept into the dreams of half the heroes that have turned the world upside down. I have not, for a certain best of reasons, attempted a metaphysical disquisition of the mind with the bill of sundries thereto per*aining. We need not the aid of philosophical acumen or of any thing but the memory of the last half hour, to teach us the eternal action of the mind. And if it must act--and if by action worthy of a soul still greater powers of action may be acquired—if one noble effort paves the way for yet nobler struggles and more glorious conquests he cannot be guiltless who smothers every thought that would look up, and frets that the pulse of his spirit will sometimes hint to him that he is not all clay. *D.* MUTABILITY. THE VOICE AND RESPONSE. I. Dark Genius of Man! sure emblem of God!-- Hold, reckless tempter, hold!-There is a dread supreme! 11. Proud Lion of the Wood! start forth from thy lair; For thou art the king of the beasts on the plain. All Heavcu rocks above!--skies are with thunder riven !— III. Wild Bird of the Ocean! the dark heaving surge Beneath thee may roll o'er the proud-swelling deep ;- Look onward again-the wild winds have gone down, IV. Proud nation of Yore!-Thou Land of the Nile! The deep swelling vale thy rich cofferrs beguile; Like the dew drop of morn, or the sunbeam of noon,-- V. Home of the Poet!-The birthplace of song! And o'er thy plains the philosopher roves. The wild Cossack is here, and dark fiends tread the plain, VI. Wide empire of Earth!-extend thy broad Wings- A dirge to the nations thy warrior sings,- The proud plume of the Roman is tattered and torn, VII. Bright land of my birth! Dear Land of my Youth! A phantom thy banner--a wild vision thy hope! VIII. Stay! Miscreant, stay! revoke the sad doom! To liberty strike!-anew strike the lyre, ADRIAN THE MADMAN'S DOOM. It was the gloomy hour of midnight, and the castern breeze swept past in fitful howlings, or dying away in sullen murmurs amid the waving tops of the forest trees, seemed to bewail some deed of human woe. Fleeting vapors rode upon the wind in frightful omens, while from the southern horizon came heavily dense clouds from the ocean, and as column rolled upon column, a fourth part of the heavens was obscured by a canopy of blackness. Between the wild and irregular openings of the vapory fluids, the twinkling stars of the north cast upon the scene a few solitary rays which rendered the opposite heavens more dismal. No sound of human voice disturbed the deep silence: no prowling beast awoke the solitude of the desert even the mighty yells of the screach owl, and the terrific squalls of the macaw, were hushed in repose. Nought was heard save the whistling of the gale, and a tramp of horses in a vale of Albania. It was not the wild and unsteady tread of the wandering palfrey, but slow and measured, as from the dark recesses of the vale impervious to the human eye the crackling of the underwood fell upon the ear in ominous meaning, At times a human voice seemed to issue from the fir-trees, and mingling with the murmurs of the breeze sounded like the moan of some bewildered traveller, or of a hermit grieying over a life of woe. Silence succeeded.— Then the voice-the tramp were head again. At length there issued from the woody valley some fifty horsemen, whose shadowy outlines could scarce be perceived in the obscurity of the night. They hovered awhile upon the skirts of the forest, then darted away with the rapidity of lightning upon a sandy plain, which stretched far into the imperceptible distance. They rode hard, and had left many furlongs behind them, when suddenly the queen of night lose majestically above the cloudy horizon, and illumined the dismal scene. The chief of this band of midnight rovers bade his companions dismount, while their war steeds should rest them.-Upon a close view you could discover that they were armed with the implements of chivalric warfare, when the knights of high renown and the active and gaily-dressed squires courted the battle's rage and fought alone for fame and glory. But among these daring heroes of the night no merry squire was engaged in the service of his lord, or was heard to joke his comrades in a joyful moment. All wore the armour of knighthood, and their glittering shields, their waving plumes sparkling with gems, and their studded baldricks announced their superior dignity. Some pressing emergency, some threatening danger, had roused those lords of the middle ages from their castles at this extraordinary hour of the night; or some deed of darkness was to be perpetrated, which the light of the sun might not witness. One of noble bearing, whose arms shone with brightness in the moon-beams, detached himself from the rest, and scanned awhile the distant plain, as if to discover some lurking enemy. But, no obstacle interrupting his sight, he turned to his comrades, and thus addressed them: "Knights of valor and defenders of the helpless, you have felt the galling oppression of a miscreant tyrant, and you have seen the shameless audacity of a monster in having dared to wrest from her weak, though knightly father, a queenly maiden, whose love you have wooed and in whose defence every knight ought to wield a valorous sword. Shall a wretched parent forever mourn the pride and glory of his house, or call in vain for vengeance upon the head of the oppressor? Not content with having wrested rightfully possessed lands from his most loyal subject once a terror in the battle field, now an oracle in time of peace, he has most atrociously broken in upon his privacies, and dragged thence an unprotected victim of outrageous passion. Shall subjects of extortion weep unheeded, or crime go unpunished? Is every sympathetic feeling quenched in our breasts, and does the spirit of devils animate us? Did the prince of darkness extinguish every spark of humanity when we witnessed with cold or utter neglect the anguish of a bereaved father, and the death-like paleness and silent grief of a dutiful child, torn from the embraces of a distracted mother? She consented to go along with that plunderer of human happiness, because an exterminator's sword hung over her father's household ready to fall with two-fold vengeance, while from a refusal she saw herself violently dragged to a mountain fortress, there to languish out a life of captivity and wo. What crime has been perpetrated by the former leader of a nation's chivalry, to merit such persecution? Is he guilty of murder, the pretended crime? Why then is not his life made to atone for the horrid deed? Nay, but I tell you the tyrant himself, burning with a desire of revenge for his oft refused addresses, perpetrated that black deed of death, on that fatal night the father of his present victim, the lovely Elvira, crossed yonder mountain, hoping once more to fold to his bosom with pure B |