And many a brook shall murmur in my verse; And many an ocean join his cloudy bass; And many a mountain tower aloft, whereon The black storm crouches, with his deep-red eyes Glaring upon the valleys stretch'd below; And many a green wood rock the small, bright birds To musical sleep beneath the large, full moon; And many a star shall lift on high her cup Of luminous cold chrysolite, set in gold Chased subtilely over by angelic art; To catch the odorous dews which poets drink In their wide wanderings; and many a sun Shall press the pale lips of the timorous morn Couch'd in the bridal east: and over all Will brood the visible presence of the ONE To whom my life has been a solemn chant. In the Last Words of Washington: There is an awful stillness in the sky, When after wondrous deeds and light supreme, A star goes out in golden prophecy. There is an awful stillness in the world, When after wondrous deeds and light supreme, Sceptres refused and forehead crowned with truth, A Hero dies, with all the future clear Before him, and his voice made jubilant By coming glories, and his nation hushed, As though they heard the farewell of a god. A great man is to earth as God to Heaven. In Greenwood Cemetery: O, ye whose mouldering frames were brought and placed By pious hands within these flowery slopes And gentle hills, where are ye dwelling now? For man is more than element! The soul Lives in the body as the sunbeam lives In trees or flowers that were but clay without. Then where are ye, lost sunbeams of the mind? Are ye where great Orion towers and holds Eternity on his stupendous front? Or where pale Neptune in the distant space Shows us how far, in his creative mood, With pomp of silence and concentred brows, The Almighty walked? Or haply ye have gone Where other matter roundeth into shapes Of bright beatitude: Or do ye know Aught of dull space or time, and its dark load Of aching weariness? Mr. Wallace is somewhat too much of a rhetorician, and he has a few defects of manner which, from this frequent repetition, he seems to regard as beauties. Peculiar phrases, of doubtful propriety, but which have a musical roll, occur in many of his poems, so that they become very prominent; this fault, however, belongs chiefly to his earlier pieces; the extracts we have given, we think will amply vindicate to the most critical judgments, the praise here awarded to him as a poet of singular and unusual powers, original, earnest, and in a remarkable degree _national_. It can scarcely be said of any of our bards that they have caught their inspiration more directly from observation and experience, or that their effusions, whatever the distinction they have in art, are more genuine in feeling. AMERICA AS ABUSED BY A GERMAN.