Winter's Crown, or Spring-birds' call-- Summer's eloquent perfume, Autumn's yellow-tinted bloom-- Every chiselled sand grain tells Nature's might; the petal cells, Whence the bee her honey draws, Glorify Creation's laws; Things minute, or vast expanse That tires the astronomic glance. Ocean swathed with azure blue, Or the gems of morning dew. _Past_--with all its mighty deeds, Nature claims its choicest meeds; _Present_--with portentous calm, Nature claims its chiefest palm; _Future_--ah! she trembles _there_, Nature quivers in despair. When the master of the scene, From the cloud-work of serene Asks her long deputed power-- Takes her sceptre--bids her cower-- Strips her of her ancient robe, She, who once bestrode the globe-- Flings around his flaming path Crescents of destructive wrath; Tramples earth, and rolls in fire Forth the thunders of his ire. Nature sinks, no more to rise While JEHOVAH fills the skies With his glory high, sublime-- Death is dead, and perished time! What a scene! when naught shall be But Chaos and Eternity! We are happy to find in Mr. Gough's List of Subscribers to his work, a host of royal and noble patrons, the ministers of the country, the Earl of Eldon, the Lord and Lady Mayoress, and a few of the Court of Aldermen--patronage, court and city--combining to encourage Mr. Gough's praiseworthy efforts. * * * * * CAPTAIN MUNDY'S VISIT TO THE TOMB OF NAPOLEON, AT ST. HELENA. Having passed two hours on the spot where Napoleon lived and died, we rode onwards to the vale which contains his bones: it is about half a mile from Longwood, and within a few hundred yards of the cottage of Madame Bertrand, to whom he indicated the spot in which he desired to rest, should the English not allow his remains to lie on the banks of the Seine. Soon after leaving Bertrand's house, we caught sight of the tomb, at the bottom of the ravine called Slane's valley, and, descending a zig-zag path, we quickly reached the spot. About half an acre round the grave is railed in. At the gate we were received by an old corporal of the St. Helena corps, who has the care of the place. The tomb itself consists of a square stone, about ten feet by seven, surrounded with a plain iron-railing. Four or five weeping-willows, their stems leaning towards the grave, hang their pensile branches over it. Who could contemplate without interest the little spot of earth which covers all that remains of mortal of the man who made Europe tremble! who carried his victorious arms from the Nile to the Elbe, from Moscow to the Pillars of Hercules; who bore his eagles triumphantly through Vienna, Rome, Berlin, Madrid! Beneath our feet lay he, who "du monde entre ses mains a vu les destinées"-- "The desolator desolate, the victor overthrown!"