O Solitude! how blissful are the hours Among thy shades in heavenly musing past, When Nature leads us through her secret bowers, And Contemplation spreads the rich repast. Among the haunts of men the thoughtful mind That fain would rise above the things of earth, Finds its bold flights on every hand confined, By care distracted, and seduced by mirth. But in the deep and solemn hour of night The soul luxuriates in a scene like this: From cliff to cliff she wings her daring flight O'er foaming cataract or dark abyss. Or else, uplifted o'er the things of time, By heavenly Faith from all her bonds set free, Among the fields of ether soars sublime, And holds communion with the Deity. Oh! how transporting is the glorious thought That He whose power controls yon worlds above, Is ever nigh--and ever found when sought To save and bless us with a father's love. Even his chastisements are with mercy fraught, And seal instruction on the attentive mind. Driven by disease these distant shades I sought, And all the fruitless cares of life resigned: 'Twas there He met me, and in mercy healed The raging fevers that my strength deprest, His love paternal to my soul revealed, And swell'd the tide of rapture in my breast. Oh! then, my heart, may'st thou continual turn To Him whose power alone can guide thy ways: May love divine upon thine altar burn, And every thought and feeling speak His praise. LIONEL GRANBY. CHAP. VII. He was too good for war, and ought to be As far from danger, as from fear he's free.--_Cowley_. "You are an accomplished Lovelace, Lionel!" said one of a merry throng, collected around a wine table. "Poor Miss Ellen Pilton is now fondly trusting to your mellow song of flattery and promise. Here's to her health! and to that of every pretty woman with a silly heart, and a credulous ear." "'Tis pledged," cried I, forgetting every feeling of honor in the incense offered to my vanity, "and may each of you be equally successful." The words were scarcely uttered by me, nor had the glass touched my lips, ere I received a violent blow in the face, which sent me reeling to the extremity of the room. Rising with shame from my debasing posture, I encountered the eye of Pilton, fixed on me with a firm, cool, and deliberate gaze, and in an instant, my dirk was pointed to his heart. I looked in his face with a stern, malignant, and merciless triumph, yet his color neither blanched--nor did his countenance quail. "Let him alone!" cried twenty voices, "he is unarmed, give him fair play;" and I thank God, that in the tempest of my rage I was sufficiently alive to this appeal to my manhood, suddenly to throw the vulgar weapon away. "Base coward!" cried I, "I will not assassinate you--but remember that your blood alone, can cleanse this foul and dastardly assault."