On the margin of the flood
With lifted rod the Prophet stood;
And the summoned east wind blew,
And aside it sternly threw

The gathered waves, that took their stand,
Like crystal rocks, on either hand;
Or walls of sea-green marble piled,
Round some irregular city wild.

Then the light of morning lay
On the wonder-paved way,
Where the treasures of the deep
In their caves of coral sleep.
The profound abysses, where
Was never sound from upper air,
Rang with Israel's chanted words,
"King of kings! and Lord of lords!"
Then with bow and banner glancing,
On exulting Egypt came,

With her chosen horsemen prancing,
And her cars on wheels of flame;

In a rich and boastful ring

All around her furious king.

But the Lord from out his cloud,

The Lord looked down upon the proud;

And the host drave heavily

Down the deep bosom of the sea.

With a quick and sudden swell

Prone the liquid ramparts fell;
Over horse and over car,
Over every man of war,

Over Pharaoh's crown of gold,
The loud thundering billows rolled.
As the level waters spread,

Down they sank, they sank like lead,

Down without a cry or groan.
And the morning sun that shone
On myriads of bright armed men,

Its meridian radiance then

Cast on a wide sea, heaving as of yore,

Against a silent, solitary shore.

Then did Israel's maidens sing,
Then did Israel's timbrels ring,

To Him, the King of kings! that in the sea,
The Lord of lords! had triumphed gloriously.

And our timbrels' flashing chords,
King of king! and Lord of lords!
Shall they not attuned be
Once again to victory!

Lo! a glorious triumph now

Lo! against thy people come
A mightier Pharaoh! wilt not thou
Craze the chariot-wheels of Rome?
Will not, like the Red-Sea wave,
Thy stern anger overthrow?
And from worse than bondage save,
From sadder than Egyptian woe,
Those whose silver cymbals glance,
Those who lead the suppliant dance;
Thy race, the only race that sings
Lord of lords! and King of kings!

JOHN WILSON,

PROFESSOR Of Moral Philosophy in the University of Edinburgh, has not attained the popularity which his poetic merits deserve. His powers of mind are great and varied, his heart manifestly "o'erflowing with the milk f human kindness;" his style perfectly original, teeming with the most delightful fancies, and abounding in noble appeals to the best feelings of the human heart.

THE SEA BY MOONLIGHT.

From THE ISLE OF PALMS.

Ir is the midnight hour:-the beauteous sea,
Calm as the cloudless heaven, the heaven discloses,
While many a sparkling star in quiet glee,
Far down within the watery sky reposes;
As if the ocean's heart were stirred
With inward life, a sound is heard,

Like that of dreamer murmuring in his sleep,
'Tis partly the billow, and partly the air,
That lies like a garment floating fair

Above the happy deep.

The sea, I ween, cannot be fanned,

By evening freshness from the land,

For the land it is far away:

But God hath willed that the sky-born breeze,
In the centre of the loneliest seas,

Should ever sport and play.

The mighty moon she sits above,
Encircled with a zone of love;
A zone of dim and tender light,

That makes her wakeful eye more bright;
She seems to shine with a sunny ray,
And the night looks like a mellowed day!
The gracious mistress of the main
Hath now an undisturbed reign,
And from her silent throne looks down,
As upon children of her own,

On waves that lend their gentle breast,
In gladness, for her couch of rest!
My spirit sleeps, amid the calm,

The sleep of a new delight;

And hopes that she ne'er may wake again,
But for ever hang o'er the lovely main,
And adore the lovely night.

Scarce conscious of an earthly frame,
She glides away like a lambent flame,
And in her bliss she sings!

Now touching softly the ocean's breast,
Now mid the stars she lies at rest,
As if she sailed on wings!

Now bold as the brightest star that glows
More brightly since at first it rose,

Looks down on the far-off flood,

And there all breathless and alone,

As the sky where she soars were a world of her own, She mocketh that gentle mighty one,

As he lies in his quiet mood.

"Art thou," she breathes, "the tyrant grim

That scoffs at human prayers,

Answering with prouder roar the while,

As it rises from some lonely isle,

Through groans raised wild, the hopeless hymn

Of shipwrecked mariners?

Oh! thou art harmless as a child,
Weary with joy, and reconciled

For sleep to change its play;

And now that night hath stayed thy race,
Smiles wander o'er thy placid face,

As if thy dreams were gay."

THE SHIP.

AND, lo! upon the murmuring waves
A glorious shape appearing!

A broad-winged vessel, through the shower
Of glimmering lustre steering!
As if the beauteous ship enjoyed
The beauty of the sea,
She lifteth up her stately head,
And saileth joyfully.

A lovely path before her lies,
A lovely path behind;

She sails amid the loveliness

Like a thing with heart and mind.

Fit pilgrim through a scene so fair,
Slowly she beareth on;

A glorious phantom of the deep,

Risen up to meet the moon.

The moon bids her tenderest radiance fall

On her wavy streamer and snow-white wings,

And the quiet voice of the rocking sea,

To cheer the gliding vision sings.

Oh! ne'er did sky and water blend
In such a holy sleep,

Or bathe in brighter quietude
A roamer of the deep.

So far the peaceful soul of heaven
Hath settled on the sea;

It seems as if this weight of calm
Were from eternity.

O world of waters! the steadfast earth
Ne'er lay entranced like thee!

Is she a vision wild and bright,
That sails amid the still moonlight,
At the dreaming soul's command?
A vessel borne by magic gales,
All rigged with gossamery sails,
And bound for Fairy-land?

Ah, no! an earthly freight she bears,
Of joys and sorrows, hopes and fears;
And lonely as she seems to be,

Thus left by herself on the moonlight sea,

In loneliness that rolls,
She hath a constant company,
In sleep or waking revelry,

Five hundred human souls!
Since first she sailed from fair England,
Three moons her path have cheered;
And another lights her lovelier lamp,
Since the Cape hath disappeared.
For an Indian Isle she shapes her way:
With constant mind, both night and day.
She seems to hold her home in view,
And sails as if the path she knew;
So calm and stately in her motion,
Across th' unfathomed trackless ocean.

THE SHIPWRECK.

Bur list! a low and moaning sound,
At distance heard, like a spirit's song,
And now it reigns above, around,
As if it called the ship along.
The moon is sunk, and a clouded
Declares that her course is run,
And like a god who brings the day,
Up mounts the glorious sun.

gray

Soon as his light has warmed the seas,

From the parting cloud fresh blows the breeze!
And that is the spirit whose well-known song
Makes the vessel to sail in joy along.

No fears hath she! her giant form

O'er wrathful surge, through blackening storm
Majestically calm would go

'Mid the deep darkness white as snow!
But gently now the small waves glide
Like playful lambs o'er a mountain side.

So stately her bearing, so proud her array,

The main she will traverse for ever and aye,

Many ports will exult at the gleam of her mast;

-Hush! hush! thou vain dreamer! this hour is her last,

Five hundred souls in one instant of dread

Are hurried o'er the deck;

And fast the miserable ship
Becomes a lifeless wreck.