[Footnote 1: Alluding to the new bridge erected by Collier Minge, Esq. affording passage from the main land to the island, where a wharf has been built for the accommodation of steamboat travellers.] For the Southern Literary Messenger. THE FATED CITY. 'Twas evening, and the sinking sun Streamed brightly in the sky, And cast his farewell beams abroad, Like smiles of an approving god, O'er plain, and mountain high-- O'er waving fields of floating gold That, round his gorgeous pyre, were rolled, And o'er the city's glistening spires, That flashed beneath his blazing fires. There lay that city;--wealth and pride Had built their temples there, And swift-winged commerce there had brought, From many a clime, her trophies caught:-- From Indian isles afar, The pearl, the beryl and the gem;-- But treasures, far outvieing them, Were with that city's wealth combined-- The priceless treasures of the mind! The sun went down, and night came o'er That city's winding walls; The white moon rose along the sky, And looked down calm, and silently, Upon the shouting halls, Where music rang, and laughter went, From lip to lip, in merriment;-- Where all was careless, heedless, light, Besporting on that festal night! An hour passed on;--what cry was that, Which thrilled that city so? What shrieks are those,--what means yon cloud That wraps the temple, like a shroud, And fills the breast with wo?-- What mean yon flames, that blazing, run Along that mountain dark and dun?-- Why quakes the land,--why heaves the sea-- Why peal the heavens dreadfully? Night left the earth;--the sun arose, As wont, above the sky, And looked,--not on that city bright, Which he had left before the night, With turrets gleaming high; But on a black and blasted waste, Dread desolation's hand had traced,-- Upon a flood of _lava_, where Once proudly stood POMPEII fair! A. B. M. _Tuscaloosa, Alabama_. For the Southern Literary Messenger. HYMN TO THE STARS. BY D. MARTIN, _of Mobile_. Ye burning blazonry of God! Ye glittering lights that never die! That pace the realms by seraphs trod! And hold untiring watch on high! And circling heaven's eternal king, Ye dwell--His glorious fashioning! Creation saw your timeless birth, When from your own clear sapphire skies, Ye looked upon the virent earth,-- An everlasting paradise!-- And seemed to mock with silent gaze, Nature's green garb and tuneless lays! Since then ye've read the world's black page, And seen a stream sublime, Roll its dark waters o'er an age Of countless years of time!-- In whose deep, dark, unletter'd caves, Earth hides her mighty as in graves! Life's wasting--but ye still shine on, And seem to me to be, The lights upon the horizon Of eternity's black sea!-- Pointing to the sun-lit far off west, Where all immortal spirits rest!