Along the vale; and thou majestic main,
A secret world of wonders in thyself,

Sound His stupendous praise, whose greater voice
Or bids you roar, or bids your roaring fall.

So roll your incense, herbs, and fruits, and flowers,
In mingled clouds to Him, whose sun exalts,
Whose breath perfumes you, and whose pencil paints.
Ye forests, bend; ye harvests, wave to Him;
Breathe your still song into the reaper's heart
As home he goes beneath the joyous moon.
Ye that keep watch in heaven, as earth asleep
Unconscious lies, effuse your mildest beams,
Ye constellations, while your angels strike,
Amid the spangled sky, the silver lyre.

5. Great source of day! blest image here below
Of thy Creator, ever pouring wide,

From world to world, the vital ocean round,
On nature write with every beam His praise.
The thunder rolls: be hush'd the prostrate world,
While cloud to cloud returns the solemn hymn.
Bleat out afresh, ye hills; ye mossy rocks,
Retain the sound; the broad responsive low,
Ye valleys, raise; for the Great Shepherd reigns,
And His unsuffering kingdom yet will come.
Ye woodlands, all awake; a boundless song
Burst from the groves! and when the restless day,
Expiring, lays the warbling world asleep,
Sweetest of birds! sweet Philomela, charm

The listening shades, and teach the night His praise.

6. Ye chief, for whom the whole creation smiles;
At once the head, the heart, the tongue of all,
Crown the great hymn! in swarming cities vast,
Assembled men to the deep organ join

The long resounding voice, oft breaking clear,
At solemn pauses, through the swelling base;
And, as each mingling flame increases each,
In one united ardour rise to heaven.

Or if you rather choose the rural shade,
And find a fane in every sacred grove,
There let the shepherd's lute, the virgin's lay,
The prompting seraph, and the poet's lyre,
Still sing the God of seasons as they roll.

7. For me, when I forget the darling theme,
Whether the blossom blows, the summer ray
Russets the plain, inspiring autumn gleams,
Or winter rising in the blackening east-
Be my tongue mute, my fancy paint no more,
And, dead to joy, forget my heart to beat.
Should fate command me to the farthest verge

Of the green earth, to distant barbarous climes,
Rivers unknown to song; where first the sun
Gilds Indian mountains, or his setting beam
Flames on the Atlantic isles; 'tis naught to me;
Since God is ever present, ever felt,

In the void waste as in the city full;

And where He vital breathes, there must be joy.
s. When even at last the solemn hour shall come,
And wing my mystic flight to future worlds,
I cheerful will obey; there, with new powers,
Will rising wonders sing! I cannot go
Where universal love not smiles around,
Sustaining all yon orbs, and all their suns;
From seeming evil, still educing good,
And better thence again, and better still,
In infinite progression. But I lose

Myself in Him, in light ineffable!

Come, then, expressive silence, muse His praise.

THE YO SEMITE VALLEY IN CALIFORNIA.

1. This wonderful region, situated near the south-west base of the Sierra Nevada, almost directly inland from San Francisco, at a distance of 170 miles, is thus described by Mr. Frederick Law Olmsted :

2. "The main feature of the Yo Semite is best indicated in one word- -a chasm. It is a chasm nearly a mile in average width, however, and more than ten miles in length. The central and broader part of this chasm is occupied at the bottom by a series of groves of magnificent trees, and meadows of the most varied, luxuriant, and exquisite herbage, through which meanders a broad stream of the clearest water, rippling over a pebbly bottom, and eddying among banks of fern and rushes; and sometimes narrowed into sparkling rapids; and sometimes expanding into placid pools, which reflect the wondrous heights on either side.

3. "The walls of the chasm are generally half a mile, sometimes nearly a mile in height above these meadows, and, where most lofty, are nearly perpendicular, sometimes overjutting. At frequent intervals, however, they are cleft, broken, terraced, and sloped, and in these places as well as everywhere upon the summit they are overgrown by thick clusters of trees. There is nothing strange or exotic in the character of the vegetation, most of the trees and plants, especially those of the meadows and water side, are closely allied to, and are not readily distinguished from, those most common in the landscapes of the Eastern States or the Midland Counties of England.

4. "The stream is such a one as Shakspere delighted in, and brings pleasing reminiscences to the traveller of the

Avon or the upper Thames. Banks of heart's-ease and beds of cowslips and daisies are frequent, and thickets of alder, dogwood, and willow often fringe the shores.

At

several points streams of water flow into the chasm,

descending at one leap from 500 to 1400 feet. One small stream falls in three closely consecutive pitches a distance of 2600 feet, which is more than fifteen times the height