O what, and whence am I, 'mid damps and dust, And darkness, into sudden being thrust? What was I yesterday? and what will be, Perchance, to-morrow, seen or heard of me? Poor, lone, unfriended, ignorant, forlorn, To bear the new, full glory of the morn, Beneath the garden wall I stand aside, With all before me, beauty, show, and pride. Ah! why did nature shoot me up to light, A thing unfit for use--unfit for sight; Less like her work, than like a piece of art, Whirled out and trimmed exact in every part? Unlike the graceful shrub and flexile vine, No fruit, nor branch, nor leaf, nor bud is mine. No humming-bird, nor butterfly, nor bee Will come to cheer, caress or flatter me. No beauteous flower adorns my humble head, No spicy odors on the air I shed; But here I 'm stationed in my sober suit, With only top and stem--I 've scarce a root. Untaught of my beginning and my end, I know not whence I sprang, or where I tend; Yet, I will wait and trust, and ne'er presume To question JUSTICE--I, a frail Mushroom! THE SPIRIT AND THE MOUNTAIN. Mountain, with thy firm old foot Fast beside the sea, What was in thy keeping put, Prisoned under thee? "Hark, and hear the shuddering ground! Feel it rock and quake! Struggling fires, beneath me bound, Strive their chains to break." Mountain, with a cloudy vest Girded o'er thy heart, Does it pierce thine aged breast, When its lightnings dart? "No:--beneath me far, the crash Of the bolt is felt: Here, the fiery chain and flash But adorn my belt." Mountain, with a snowy crown Stainless on thy brow, Wilt thou never cast it down-- Never, never bow? "When the mandate I shall hear From my Maker's throne, I will bow and disappear, Hence to be unknown." Mountain, holding proud and high Thine old hoary head, What is written on the sky, Thou so long hast read? "Brighter than the stars and sun Shining over me, I behold the name of ONE Thou must die to see!" Mountain, bold thine eloquence-- Glowing is thy speech; Mighty import flashes thence; What is it to teach? "Thoughts of Him, before whose breath I shall melt away; While of thee, soul--spirit, death Ne'er shall quench a ray!" THE FALL OF THE STATUE. A SCENE OF THE REVOLUTION.