Great Nature’s Priest! thy calm career, With that sweet morn, on earth has ended— But who shall say thy mission died When, winged for Heaven, thy soul ascended!
What shall yield me inspiration, What sweet spell entrance my thought, Whilst I sing the adoration By thy matchless beauty wrought? Overcome with exultation Which thy charming presence brought.
Incense-bearing breezes hover Round my flushed and throbbing brow, Minstrels in their shady cover Chant divinest music now; Nature, yield to nature’s lover Language worthy of his vow!
Where she walks a richer splendor Hallows all the earth and sky, Unseen angels there attend her; Heaven and love sleep in her eye— Graces have no grace to lend her, Zephyr breathes an envious sigh.
Thou thyself art inspiration! Moving, breathing, blessing, blest; The lily and the rose-carnation Live upon thy cheek and breast, Daring time and desolation, Thrilling hearts with wild unrest!
Learn to win a lady’s faith Nobly, as the thing is high; Bravely, as for life and death— With a loyal gravity.
Lead her from the festive boards, Point her to the starry skies, Guard her by your truthful words, Pure from courtship’s flatteries.
By your truth she shall be true— Ever true as wives of yore— And her _Yes_, once said to you, SHALL be Yes for evermore. ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.
It was a hot, sultry afternoon at —— ——, a fashionable summer resort at the sea side. The three great events of the day were accomplished—namely, the bath, dinner, and the arrival of the boat bringing the mail; the visiters, therefore, had nothing to do but to get rid of the afternoon in as noisy a manner as possible, keeping themselves as warm and uncomfortable as they could, in order to prove that they were enjoying themselves after the most approved fashion. Ladies could be seen in every direction, passing from one hotel to another, flitting in and out of cottages, dressed in the most incongruous style—in silks, mulls, and gauzes, fitted for a full-dress dinner or evening party; and surmounting this dressy costume was—the only really sensible article to be seen in this dominion of Folly—the prim, plain country sun-bonnet. Fashion had established that hats at the sea-side were vulgar, and accordingly, every belle mounted one of these useful, but exceedingly ugly head-dresses. Carriages and wagons of every description darted to and fro, from the funny little Jersey sand wagon, with horses of a Jersey match, gray and brown, or black and white, up to the well matched, well ordered establishment of the _nouveau riche_, who was willing to sacrifice his delicate town-bred horses, in order to exhibit his magnificence to the _plebs_. A fine establishment drew up in front of the entrance of one of the principal hotels, and the owner of it, Mr. Martin, a prosperous merchant, with his fussy, dressy, good-natured, fat little wife, entered it. As Mr. Martin handed his wife in, he asked,