And hurry them to the west," said he, Like the dry bones the prophet raised, A might company, so vast, They stalk'd erect as if alive, But like the pestilence that walks, The grave personified. The earth-worm drew his slimy trail And the carrion bird in hot haste came While ever as on their way they moved, And before and behind, and about their sides, Their wither'd arms they bound; As the beggar clasps his skinny hands His tatter'd garments round. On, on we went through the livelong night, We turn'd not aside for forest or stream But straight and swift as the hurricane sweeps Once, once I stopp'd, where something gleam'd, And I stoop'd to take the diamond up At length our army reach'd the verge Death drove them into the sea, and said, He estranged himself from us, and cheerfully t Sought out a new object, and wedded again. The dust had scarce settled itself on her lyre, And its soft,melting tones still held captive the e While we look'd for her fingers to glide o'er the wi And waited in fancy her sweet voice to hear; He turn'd from her harp and its melody then, Sought out a new minstrel and wedded again. The turf had not yet by a stranger been trod, Nor the pansy a single leaf shed on her grave The cypress had not taken root in the sod, gare Nor the stone lost the freshness the sculptor first He turn'd from these mournful remembrances then, Wove a new bridal chaplet, and wedded again. His dwelling to us, O, how lonely and sad! When we thought of the light death had stolen away, Of the warm hearts which once in its keeping it had, And that one was now widow'd and both in decay; But its deep desolation had fled even thenHe sought a new idol, and wedded again. But can she be quite blest who presides at his board? Will no troublesome vision her happy home shade, Of a future love luring and charming her lord, When she with our lost one forgotten is laid! She must know he will worship some other star then, Seek out a new love, and be wedded again. SONG. SHOULD Sorrow o'er thy brow Its darken'd shadows fling, Fade like the hues of even, If ever life shall seem To thee a toilsome way, O'er shoreless ocean driven, Undimn'd by earthly gloom; Tell of a time to die- OTWAY CURRY. [Born 1804. Died 1855.] COLONEL JAMES CURRY of Virginia served in the continental army during the greater part of the revolutionary war, and was taken prisoner with the forces surrendered by General LINCOLN at Charleston in 1780. After the peace he emigrated to Ohio, distinguished himself in civil affairs, rose to be a judge, and was one of the electors of President who gave the vote of that state for JAMES MONROE. His son, OTWAY CURRY, was born in what is now Greenfield, Highland county, on the twenty-sixth of March, 1804, and having received such instruction as was offered in the common school, and declining an opportunity to study the law, he proceeded to Chilicothe, and there worked several years as a carpenter, improving his mind meanwhile by industrious but discursive reading during his leisure hours, so that at the end of his apprenticeship he had a familiar knowledge of the most popular contemporary literature, and a capacity for writing which was creditably illustrated from time to time essays for the press. in He now removed to Cincinnati, where he found more profitable employment, and in 1827 published in the journals of that city, under the signature of "Abdallah," several poems which attracted considerable attention, and led to his acquaintance with WILLIAM D. GALLAGHER and other young men of congenial tastes. At this period he was a frequent player on the flute; his music, as well as his poetry, was pensive and dreamy; and his personal manners were singularly modest and engaging. On the seventeenth of December, 1828, the young carpenter was married, and setting out on his travels, he worked at various places in the lower part of the valley of the Mississippi, sending back occasional literary performances to his friends in Cincinnati, THE GREAT HEREAFTER.* "T is sweet to think when struggling When through the nameless ages Along its brimming bosom Perpetual summer smiles; "In the great hereafter I see the fulfilment of my desires. Yea, amid all this turmoil and humiliation I enter already upon its rest and glory."-The Huguenot. which kept alive their friendly interest, and greatly increased his good reputation. Dissatisfied with his experiences in the South, he returned to Ohio, and for some time turned his attention to farming, in his native town. In 1836 and 1837 he was elected to the legislature, and while attending to his duties at Columbus engaged with Mr. GALLAGHER in the publication of The Hesperian," a monthly magazine, of which the first number was issued in May, 1838. In 1839 he removed to Maysville, the seat of justice for Union county, where he was admitted to the bar. In 1842 he was again elected to the legis lature, and during the session of the following winter, "The Hesperian" having been discontinued, purchased the "Torch Light," a newspaper printed at Xenia, Green county, which he edited two years, on the expiration of which he retired to Maysville, and entered upon the practice of the law. In 1850 he was chosen a member of the State Convention for forming a new Constitution; in 1851 he bought the "Scioto Gazette," a journal published at Chilicothe; and in the spring of 1854 returned again to Maysville, was made District Attorney, and in what seemed to be an opening career of success, died suddenly, on the fifteenth of February, 1855. Mr. CURRY wrote much, in prose as well as in verse, and always with apparent sincerity and earnestness. He was many years an active member of the Methodist church, and his poems are frequently marked by a fine religious enthusiasm, which appears to have been as characteristic of his temper as their more strictly poetical qualities were of his intellect. In dying he remarked to a friend that one of his earliest compositions, entitled "Kingdom Come," embodied the belief and hope of his life and death. KINGDOM COME. I Do not believe the sad story And grandeur of Kingdom Come. The paleness of death, and its stillness, May rest on my brow for awhile; And my spirit may lose in its chillness The splendour of hope's happy smile; But the gloom of the grave will be transient, And beautiful forms of the earth. From life's gloomy passion and pain, When the shadow of death passes o'er me Will smile on me fondly again. Their voices are lost in the soundless THE ARMIES OF THE EVE. Nor in the golden morning O, then those starry millions Their streaming banners weave, The dim and shadowy armies Of our unquiet dreams, Whose footsteps brush the feathery fern Of high and holier climes; We greet them with the blessed names They freshen all the fountain-springs In beauteous ranks they roam, TO A MIDNIGHT PHANTOM. PALE, melancholy one! Herald of darkness near: Thou stand'st immortal, undefiled- Spell-word of mortal fear. Thou art a shadowy form, So frail, so passing fair- That unseen spirits wear. Thou hast revealed to me Chiming the whole night long Through all the dreary night, Send to the brain their maddening blight, Or down in mockery bow. Away, pale form, away- The eternal night-glooms lie: Art thou of the blue waves, Or of the heavens sublime? Hast thou forever won Thou answerest not. The sealed Unseen by mortal eye- May win the viewless sky. WILLIAM CROSWELL. [Born, 1804. Died, 1851.] When Mr. DOANE became bishop of the Episcopal church in New Jersey, Boston no longer possessed its most agreeable charm for his friend, and he wrote: WILLIAM CROSWELL was born at Hudson, in New York, on the seventh of November, 1804. His father, then editor of a literary and political journal, in a few years became a clergyman of the Episcopal church, and removed to New Haven, Connecticut, where the son was prepared for college by Mr. JOEL JONES, since well known as one of the justices of the Superior Court of Pennsylvania. He was graduated at New Haven, in 1822, and, with his brother SHERMAN, soon after opened a select school in that city, which was surrendered at the end of the second quarter, after which he passed nearly four years in desultory reading in the house of his father. An invitation to study medicine, with an uncle, was declined, partly from an unconquerable aversion to surgical exhibitions; and a short experience of the editorial profession, in the office of his cousin, Mr. EDWIN CROSWELL, of the Albany Argus, discouraged all thoughts of devotion to the press and to politics. In the summer before his twentieth birth-day, his reputation for talents was such that the public authorities of Hartford requested him to deliver an oration on the anniversary of the declaration of independence, and he accepted the invitation, substituting a poem of several hundred lines for a discourse in prose. In 1826, after much hesitation, arising from the modesty of his nature, and his sense of the dignity of the priestly office, he entered the General Theological Seminary of the Episcopal Church, in New York, and there, and subsequently under Bishop BROWNELL, in Hartford, pursued the usual course of professional studies, conducting meanwhile for two years, with Mr. DOANE, now Bishop of the Episcopal Church in New Jersey, a religious newspaper called “The Episcopal Watchman." thus commenced between Mr. CROSWELL and Mr. An intimate friendship DOANE, ended only with Mr. CROSWELL's life. “Man has never been in closer bonds with man," he with me, for five and twenty years." says the Bishop, in a discourse on his death, "than Mr. DOANE having resigned his professorship in Washington College, Hartford, to become rector of Trinity church, in Boston, the editorship of the "Episcopal Watchman" was relinquished; and Soon after Mr. CROSWELL received priest's orders, in 1829, he too went to Boston, where for eleven H "TO G. W. D. "I miss thee at the morning tide, I miss thee more, when day has died, "How can I pass that gladsome door, Where every favorite room Is loneliness and gloom? Each place where most thou lov'dst to be, I miss thee everywhere." He also addressed the youthful bishop the following sonnet, which seems now to have had a sort of prophetic significance. "AD AMICUM. "Let no gainsaying lips despise thy youth; Like his, the great Apostle's favorite son, A sevenfold grace on thine anointed head, Till thy right onward' course shall all be run. And heaven's own palms of triumph bright in view, A mightier rule be thine, O servant good and true.'" In 1840 Mr. CROSWELL resigned the rectorship of Christ church in Boston, to accept that of St. Peter's, in Auburn, New York, where he remained four years, during which period he was married circumstance was perhaps one of the causes of his to an estimable woman of Boston; and this last return to that city, in 1844, though the chief cause friends there as to those views which are known was doubtless his sympathy with several of his old in the Episcopal church as "Tractarian." A new parish was organized, the church of the Advent In this period he was a bachelor, and passing most gregation in which were the venerable poet DAof his time in "the cloister," a room fitted up in, his son, the author of "Two Years before the the rear of the church for his study, and at the Mast," and other persons of social and intellectual Athenæum, attended with singular faithfulness eminence. Of the unhappy controversy which years he was settled as minister of Christ church. to the duties of his calling, while he kept up a was erected, and he became its rector, with a con loving acquaintance with literature and art, and bishop this is not the place to speak; nor, were with a few ensued between the rector of the Advent and his merits to attempt to do justice to either party in a statement of it. This controversy was a continual pain to Dr. CROSWELL, and his more intimate friends, until his death, which occurred under the most impressive circumstances, on Sunday, the ninth of November, 1851, just seven years after his return to Boston. He had preached in the morning and during the afternoon service, which was appointed for the children of the congregation, his strength suddenly failed, he gave out a hymn, repeated with touching pathos a prayer, and in a feeble voice, while still kneeling, pronounced the apostolic benediction, and in a little while was dead. Since the death of Dr. CROSWELL, his aged father, who had previously been occupied with the arrangement of materials for his own memoirs that they might be written by his son, has put lished a most interesting biography of that son; and in this is the only collection of his poems which has appeared, except a small one which Bishop DOANE many years ago added to an ed tion of KEBLE's "Christian Year." Dr. CROSWELL had a fine taste in literature, and and sweetness. They are for the most part souve among his poems are many of remarkable grace religious life, and seem to have been natural and nirs of his friendships, or of the vicissitudes of his unstudied expressions of his feelings. Bishop DOANE well describes him by saying "he bad more unwritten poetry in him" than any man ever knew. THE SYNAGOGUE. "But even unto this day, when Moses is read, the veil Is upon their heart. Nevertheless, when it shall turn to the Lord, the veil shall be taken away."-ST. PAUL. I SAW them in their synagogue, As in their ancient day, It is the holy Sabbath eve,- Sheds, mingled with the hues of day, On swarthy brow and piercing glance The two-leaved doors slide slow apart As rise the Hebrew harmonies, With chanted prayers between, The glow and power that sate And fervently that hour I pray'd, Might break on every soul, That on their harden'd hearts the veil Might be no longer dark, Like that before the ark. For yet the tenfold film shall fall, Thy testimonies right, When thou, with all MESSIAH's signs THE CLOUDS. "Cloud land! Gorgeous land!"-COLERIDGE. I CANNOT look above and see In gold and purple pass, Before them, in thy shadowy screen, Pavilion'd all the day! Or, of those robes of gorgeous hue He curtained his ascent, And, wrapt in clouds, went triumphing Is it a trail of that same pall When man expecteth not! When thou shalt come again with power, |