HEN, marshalled on the nightly The ocean yawned-and rudely blowed plain, The wind that tossed my foundering bark. The glittering host bestud the Deep horror then my vitals froze, LOVE thee, Mary, and thou lovest me,- I am Potassium to thine Oxygen. O, would that I, my Mary, were an acid, Endowed with human sense, that brought together, We might both coalesce into one salt, ven That I were Phosphorus, and thou wert Lime, 470 SIGHTS FROM A STEEPLE. And we of Lime composed a Phosphuret! Instead, we'd form the salt that's named from Couldst thou Potassa be, I Aquafortis, Our happy union should that compound form, Nitrate of Potash,-otherwise Saltpetre. And thus our several natures sweetly blent, Agree to form a Johnsonate of Briggs? X SIGHTS FROM A STEEPLE. NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. OW various are the situations of the people covered by the roofs beneath me, and how diversified are the events at this moment befalling them! The new-born, the aged, the dying, the strong in life, and the recent dead, are in the chambers of these many mansions. The full of hope, the happy, the miserable, and the desperate, dwell together within the circle of my glance. In some of the houses over which my eyes roam so coldly, guilt is entering into hearts that are still tenanted by a debased and trodden virtue-guilt is on the very edge of commission, and the impending deed might be averted; guilt is done, and the criminal wonders if it be irrevocable. There are broad thoughts struggling in my mind, and, were I able to give them distinctness, they would make their way in eloquence. Lo! the rain-drops are descending. The clouds, within a little time, have gathered over all the sky, hanging heavily, as if about to drop in one unbroken mass upon the earth. At intervals the lightning flashes from their brooding hearts, quivers, disappears, and then comes the thunder, travelling slowly after its twin-born flame. A strong wind has sprung up, howls through the darkened streets, and raises the dust in dense bodies, to rebel against the approaching storm. All people hurry homeward-all that have a home; while a few lounge by the corners, or trudge on desperately, at their leisure. And now the storm lets loose its fury. In every dwelling I perceive the faces of the chambermaids as they shut down the windows, excluding the impetuous shower, and shrinking away from the quick, fiery glare. The large drops descend with force upon the slated roofs, and rise again in smoke. There is a rush and roar, as of a river through the air, and muddy streams bubble majestically along the pavement, whirl their dusky foam into the kennel, and disappear beneath iron grates. Thus did Arethusa sink. I love not my station here aloft, in the midst of the tumult which I am powerless to direct or quell, with the blue lightning wrinkling on my brow, and the thunder muttering its first awful syllables in my ear. I will descend. Yet let me give another glance to the sea, where the foam breaks in long white lines upon a broad expanse of blackness, or boils up in far distant points, like snowy-mountain-tops in the eddies of a flood; and let me look once more at the green plain, and little hills of the country, over which the giant of the storm is riding in robes of mist, and at the town, whose obscured and desolate streets might beseem a city of the dead; and turning a single moment to the sky, now gloomy as an author's prospects, I prepare to resume my station on lower earth. But stay! A little speck of azure has widened in the western heavens; the sunbeams find a passage, and go rejoicing through the tempest; and on yonder darkest cloud, born, like hallowed hopes, of the glory of another world, and the trouble and tears of this, brightens forth the Rainbow! My old sorrow wakes and cries. For I know there is dawn in the far, far north, And a scarlet sun doth rise; Like a scarlet fleece the snow-field spreads, And the bergs begin to bow their heads, O, my lost love, and my own, own love, Is there never a chink in the world above Where they listen for words from below? And now thou wilt hear me no more-no more Thou didst set thy foot on the ship, and sail And the end I could not know. Driven far by the flame, driving fast on us three We lay low in the grass on the broad plain As a hurricane comes, crushing palms in his levels, ire." We drew in the lassos, seized saddle and rein, Threw them on, sinched them on, sinched them over again, And again drew the girth, cast aside the macheer, Cut away tapidaros, loosed the sash from its fold, Cast aside the catenas red and spangled with gold, And gold-mounted Colt's, true companions for years, Cast the red silk serapes to the wind in a breath And so bared to the skin sprang all haste to the horse. Not a word, not a wail from a lip was let fall, Not a kiss from my bride, not a look or low call Of love-note or courage, but on o'er the plain So steady and still, leaning low to the mane, With the heel to the flank and the hand to the rein, |