powers,
Up to the sun I bent my wilder'd eye,
As though above, within its glorious orb,
There dwelt an ear to listen to my plaint,
A heart, like mine, to pity the oppress'd.

Who gave me succour
Against the Titans in their tyrannous might?
Who rescued me from death--from slavery?
Thou!--thou, my soul, burning with hallow'd fire,
Thou hast thyself alone achieved it all!
Yet didst thou, in thy young simplicity,
Glow with misguided thankfulness to him
That slumbers on in idlesse there above!

I reverence thee?
Wherefore? Hast thou ever
Lighten'd the sorrows of the heavy-laden?
_Thou_ ever stretch'd thy hand to still the tears
Of the perplex'd in spirit?
Was it not
Almighty Time, and ever-during Fate--
My lords and thine--that shaped and fashion'd me
Into the MAN I am?

Belike it was thy dream,
That I should hate life--fly to wastes and wilds,
For that the buds of visionary thought
Did not all ripen into goodly flowers?

Here do I sit, and mould
Men after mine own image--
A race that may be like unto myself,
To suffer, weep; to enjoy, and to rejoice;
And, like myself, unheeding all of thee!

We shall close this Number with a ballad of a different cast, but, lest
the transition should be too violent, we shall interpolate the space
with a very beautiful lyric. We claim no merit for this translation,
for, to say the truth, we could not have done it half so well. Perhaps
the fair hand that penned it, will turn over the pages of Maga in
distant Wales, and a happy blush over-spread her cheek when she sees,
enshrined in these columns, the effort of her maiden Muse.

* * * * *

NEW LOVE, NEW LIFE.

Heart--my heart! what means this feeling?
Say what weighs thee down so sore?
What new life is this revealing!
What thou wert, thou art no more.
All once dear to thee is vanish'd,
All that marr'd thy peace is banish'd,
Gone thy trouble and thine ease--
Ah! whence come such woes as these?

Does the bloom of youth bright-gleaming--
Does that form of purest light--
Do these eyes so sweetly beaming,
Chain thee with resistless might?
When the charm I'd wildly sever--
Man myself to fly for ever--
Ah! or yet the thought can stir,
Back my footsteps fly to her.

With such magic meshes laden,
All t