St. Stephen's cloister'd hall was proud In learning's pomp that day; For there, a rob'd and stately crowd Press'd on, in long array. A mariner, with simple chart Confronts that conclave high, While strong ambition stirs his heart, And burning thoughts, in wonder part From lip and sparkling eye. _What hath he said?_--With frowning face, In whisper'd tones they speak, And lines upon their tablets trace, That flush each ashen cheek: The Inquisition's mystic doom Sits on their brows severe, And bursting forth in vision'd gloom, Sad heresy from burning tomb, Groans on the startled ear. Courage, thou Genoese!--Old Time Thy brilliant dream shall crown; Yon western hemisphere sublime, Where unshorn forests frown, The awful Andes' cloud-wrapp'd brow, The Indian hunter's bow, Bold streams untam'd by helm or prow, And rocks of gold and diamond, thou To thankless Spain shalt show. {13} Courage, world-finder!--Thou hast need!-- In fate's unfolding scroll, Dark woes, and ingrate-wrongs I read, That rack the noble soul. On!--On!--Creation's secrets probe, Then drink thy cup of scorn, And wrapp'd in fallen Cesar's robe, Sleep, like that master of the globe, All glorious,--yet forlorn. L. H. S. For the Southern Literary Messenger. INTEMPERANCE. Parent!--who with speechless feeling O'er thy cradled treasure bent, Every year, new claims revealing, Yet thy wealth of love unspent,-- Hast thou seen that blossom blighted, By a drear, untimely frost? All thy labor unrequited? Every glorious promise lost? Wife!--with agony unspoken, Shrinking from affliction's rod, Is thy prop,--thine idol broken,-- Fondly trusted,--next to God? Husband!--o'er thy hope a mourner, Of thy chosen friend asham'd, Hast thou to her burial borne her, Unrepentant,--unreclaimed? Child!--in tender weakness turning To thy heaven-appointed guide, Doth a lava-poison burning, Tinge with gall, affection's tide? Still that orphan-burden bearing, Darker than the grave can show, Dost thou bow thee down despairing, To a heritage of woe? Country!--on thy sons depending, Strong in manhood, bright in bloom, Hast thou seen thy pride descending Shrouded,--to th' unhonor'd tomb? Rise!--on eagle-pinion soaring,-- Rise!--like one of Godlike birth,-- And Jehovah's aid imploring, Sweep the Spoiler from the earth. L. H. S.