In taking a general and comprehensive glance over Greek Epitaphs and Inscriptions, we see that they are usually characterized by deep feeling, expressed concisely, and with the utmost simplicity. We rarely find any catches, any evident striving after effect, and, in consequence, to an ear not accustomed to them, they may frequently seem meagre, and even bald. But, by studying them, a meaning seems to grow out of the very words; and the more that we examine them, and the oftener that we read them, the more we find them expressive of 'thoughts that lie too deep for words,' thoughts which can be expressed but darkly, and which, concealed in this garb of simplicity, must be passed over by those who are not content to pause and ponder. Whether the pleasure derived from this be worth the labor that must be spent over them, even though it be a labor of love, is a question which each must answer for himself, according to his own tastes. If they lead him to it, he will have discovered an almost inexhaustible source of pure and elevated gratification; if not ----'frustra laborum Ingratum trahit.' _Philadelphia, June, 1843._ HENRY C. LEA. NEW-ENGLAND. I. LAND of the Pilgrim-Rock! how broad thy streams, Thy hills how peopled with the brave and free! With glorious sights thy fruitful valley teems, And lavish Nature pours her gifts on thee; On every hand the smile of Beauty beams, And rich profusion spreads from lake to sea! Imperial land! from out thy mountain sides Flow the pure streams of ever-living tides! II. Fair are thy daughters, as thy skies are fair, Proud are thy sons, as proud thy mountains rise, And as the eagle loves the clear blue air, The soul of Freedom hovers 'neath thy skies! How strong in heart thy patriot-sires were! And, oh, how brave to win war's golden prize! To thee, fair land! our souls in love shall turn, And in our altar-fires thy heroes' deeds shall burn. III. Birth-land of Freedom! from thy mountain-height, From thy deep vales and forests fair and wide, Along thy sounding shores where ocean's might Expends itself in tide's returning tide, Rising, sublime, beyond the tempest's flight, The immortal sounds of Liberty abide! And, oh! how far along from shore to shore They meet and mingle with the sea's loud roar! IV. Oh! there are hearts that turn in pride to thee, Thou glorious land of blossom and of shower! Gathering sweet incense from each blooming tree, And tears of balm and freshness from each flower; And at thy altars gloriously and free The chainless spirit worships, hour by hour! While round thee all our holiest thoughts entwine; The fragrance of the heart, dear land! is thine. V.