I love to watch the twilight sky When in it glows the star of even, For then it seems that Love’s own eye Is looking kindly down from heaven; But oh, more deeply love I far, Than twilight sky or evening star, The soul-reflecting beam to view, That sweetly lights thine eye of blue. I love to watch the waving grain When o’er it floats the summer breeze; I love to view the rippling plain When winds are sporting on the seas; Yet love I more the smile divine Which flits across that face of thine, When o’er thy soul doth gently move The breathing joyousness of love. I love to read in Eastern lore, About the goddess-queens of old, So fair that Nature never more Could forms of equal beauty mould; Yet, more than all, I love to know There is not on this earth below, Nor in the deep, nor in the air, A form that can with thine compare. I love to hear the gentle swell Of music on the midnight air; I love to tread the lonely dell-- I love the torrent-music there; But oh, more charming far to me Than music’s sweetest notes can be, Is that confiding, trembling tone, Which hangs upon thy lips alone. METRICAL TRANSLATIONS OF A LATIN STANZA. On the cover of the Magazine is a picture of old Governor Yale, with two lines of Latin poetry beneath it. These lines are part of an inscription sent to the College at an early period by the Governor, and are written beneath an engraving which now hangs in the Trumbull Gallery. The engraving, we understand, was for many years mislaid, and was at last discovered, so much injured that it could scarcely be deciphered. The inscription is as follows: Effigies clarissimi viri D. D. Elihu Yale, Londinensis Armigeri. En vir! cui meritas laudes ob facta, per orbis Extremos fines, inclyta fama dedit. Aequor arans tumidum, gazas adduxit ab Indis, Quas Ille sparsit munificante manu: Inscitiæ tenebras, ut noctis luce coruscâ Phoebus, ab occiduis pellit et Ille plagis. Dum mens grata manet, nomen laudesque Yalenses Cantabunt Soboles, unanimique Patres. Here is a translation in the old Spenserian stanza: Behold the man whose honored name enrolled On Fame’s proud tablet ever ought to stand, For deeds illustrious through the world extolled. His riches, brought from India’s distant land, He scattered widely with a liberal hand. The night of Ignorance from the West he drove As morning rays the clouds from Ocean’s strand. While gratitude exists, still with their love Yale’s generous deeds shall Sons and Sires unite to approve. Again: