GATHERING OF THE COVENANTERS. 71

Up! worshippers! unto your Eyrie dwelling
If ye would never death or torture know!
Like a wild torrent from the mountains swelling
Burst the red foe!

And lo! while fiery curse and imprecation
Pour in hot volleys on the praise-stirred air;
The mountain-flood,-swift herald of salvation,—
Itself is there!

Their foam-flecked crests o'er hill and valley flinging, On! on the raving, thundering waters pour!

On that wild sea no wave-washed corse is swinging, One yell!-'twas o'er!

While high above, unheard amid the thunder,
The Covenanters praise that vengeful God,
Who flung the mighty from his prey asunder
On that dark flood!

That spirit reigneth still! So, Christian, waging
A terrible war along life's corse-strown road,
Fear not! One power can calm thy foe's fierce

raging

Oh! trust in God!

MUSIC AND MEMORY.

BY NATHANIEL L. SAWYER. *

How oft some low and gentle strain,
From out the mellow horn or flute,
Rolling along the moon-lit plain,
Will waken buried years again—

Which else to memory had been mute.
Oh! music hath a magic power,
That serves to soothe a weary hour,

When perished hopes and fortunes lower;
From present care and toil it weans,
And wafts us back to halcyon scenes
Of boyhood, when the pulse ran wild,
And every vision undefiled

Beamed on the waking slumberer bright,
Instinct with ever fresh delight.

MUSIC AND MEMORY.

I've stood upon a sea-girt isle,

The heavens and earth were still, the while,
Lit by the mellow moonbeam's smile-

While strains of melody

Awoke my dreaming spirit there,
Dispelling each intrusive care,
As rung upon the slumbering air
The bugle o'er the sea.

The bugle hath a thrilling note,
That coming from a summer boat,
Makes many a vision round us float

Of witching 'Auld Lang Syne ;'—
It gives the heart an answering chime,
Makes youth triumphant over time,
And helps the clay-clogged soul to climb
Where Romance dwells divine.

There's music in the lone cascade,
That having swept the upland glade,
Now dashes down where years have made

A deep and wild ravine;

It minds us of life's opening spring,
Joys early ripe thick-clustering-
And mimic hopes on golden wing,
Glancing the while between!

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The steeple bell that fills the air,
The organ in the house of prayer,

With voices chanting, all declare

In Sabbath morning hour,

'Mid shadows of a greener year—

The friends, whose lessening forms appear With undiminished power.

The Switzer dreams of Father-land,
While captive Judah's mourning band

By Babel's willowy stream

Hang up their harps. From palace dome, To cottage thatched, where-e'er we roam, Soft music turns the exile home

Where passed his young life's dream.

The stars of heaven that o'er us beam,
The murmur of some gentle stream,

Will open memory's cell

And lead the wanderer back through years
Of woes and pains and wasting fears,
And joys that flash through streaming tears,
And leave him there to dwell

With youthful haunts and school-boy plays,
And hills and streams and sunny days—
Where memory ever fondly strays.

MUSIC AND MEMORY.

Ay! thus I thought, as one lone eve
The balmy air came whispering by,
And nature's spirit seemed to grieve,
And still above, the azure sky
Seemed weeping silent tears of dew-
While far adown night's sombre hue,
Pale Luna's beam came wandering through
The star-paved firmament of blue.

Ay! thus I thought that moony night

When musing in yon classic hall,

And dim the unreplenished light

Shone flickering on the shadowy wall,
While future life lay spread before-
A slope we yearn to travel o'er,—
Till far along the moon-lit plain,

Through Bowdoin's halls was heard again
Peal out the PANDEAN'S thrilling strain.

'Twas then my thoughts were hurried back,

Along life's deviating track,

'Twas then I felt that music's power

Could soothe to peace the troubled hour,—

'Twas then I struck my harp anew,

Music and Memory, unto you.

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