These rocks in their formation resemble the palisades on the Hudson river--but are more regular in their strata,--which appear to have been arranged in huge masses of perfect workmanship--with projections like cornices of Gothic architecture, in a state of dilapidation. Those who are acquainted with the structure of the Cyclopean walls of the ancients, would be struck with the resemblance,--which suggested the name at the head of this article. We pause to inquire why these primeval fragments of the world have remained so long unnoticed? Why is it that men are so easily awakened to the liveliest interest in distant objects, and yet neglect those which are nearer and more accessible? "A prophet" it hath been said on high authority, "hath honor save in his own country,"--and to that strange propensity of the mind to contemn whatever is familiar, must be attributed the neglect of many of the richest treasures at our own door, which frequently impart both wealth and distinction to foreign enterprise. For many years these towers have been known in the surrounding country, by the homely appellation of "THE CHIMNEYS,"--but no one has ever stopped to examine them, or to inquire how nature formed so curious a pile in such a spot. Imagination may indeed conceive that this noble structure was once the _Scylla_ of a narrow strait connecting the waters of the north and the south, until their accumulated pressing burst through the blue ridge at Harper's Ferry, and left in their subsidence these towers, as a perpetual memorial of their former dominion. G. C. [We do not remember where or when the following _Sonnet to Lord Byron_ was published. All we know is that it has been in print before, and has been ascribed to the pen of the Hon. R. H. Wilde, of Georgia.] ORIGINAL SONNET TO LORD BYRON. Byron! 'twas thine alone on eagle's pinions, In solitary strength and grandeur soaring, To dazzle and delight all eyes, out-pouring The electric blaze on tyrants and their minions; Earth, sea and air, and Powers and Dominions, Nature--man--time--the universe exploring, And from the wreck of worlds, thrones, creeds, opinions, Thought, beauty, eloquence, and wisdom storing. O! how I love and envy thee thy glory! To every age and clime alike belonging; Linked by all tongues with every nation's story, Thou TACITUS of song!--whose echoes thronging O'er the Atlantic, fill the mountains hoary And forests with a name which thus I'm wronging. For the Southern Literary Messenger. MUSINGS III--_By the Author of Vyvyan_. JAMESTOWN. Yet could I seat me by this ivied stone Til I had bodied forth the heated mind Forms from the floating wreck which ruin leaves behind. _Childe Harold's Pilgrimage_, _Canto_ iv. _Stanza_ civ. Tawnor nehiegh Powhatan. _Salvage dialect_, _apud Capt. Smith_.