Yet should the stranger ask, what lore Of by-gone days, this winding shore, Yon cliffs and fir-clad steeps could tell, If vocal made by Fancy's spell,-- The varying legend might rehearse Fit themes for high, romantic verse. O'er yon rough heights and moss-clad sod Oft hath the stalworth warrior trod; Or peer'd, with hunter's gaze, to mark The progress of the glancing bark. Spoils, strangely won on distant waves, Have lurked in yon obstructed caves. When the great strife for Freedom rose Here scouted oft her friends and foes, Alternate, through the changeful war, And beacon-fires flashed bright and far; And here, when Freedom's strife was won, Fell, in sad feud, her favoured son;-- Her son,--the second of the band, The Romans of the rescued land. Where round yon cape the banks ascend, Long shall the pilgrim's footsteps bend; There, mirthful hearts shall pause to sigh, There, tears shall dim the patriot's eye. There last he stood. Before his sight Flowed the fair river, free and bright; The rising Mart, and Isles, and Bay, Before him in their glory lay,-- Scenes of his love and of his fame,-- The instant ere the death-shot came. LINES WRITTEN ON A BANK NOTE. BY T. W. TUCKER. Thou fragile thing That with a breath I could destroy, What mighty train of care and joy Do ye not bring? Emblem of power! By thee comes public bane or good; The wheels of state, without thee, would Stop in an hour. Tower, dome, and arch, Thou spreadest o'er the desert waste, Thou guid'st the path of war, and stay'st The army's march. The spreading seas For thee unnumbered squadrons bear, Ruler of earth, and sea, and air-- When bended knees Are bowed in prayer, Although to heaven is given each word, Thy influence in the heart, unheard, Is upmost there! Fly! minion, fly! Thine errand is unfinished yet-- The boon I covet,--to forget! Thou canst not buy. THE DELAWARE WATER-GAP. BY MRS. E. F. ELLET.