THE sKIEs.--BY BRYANT.
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Ay, gioriousiy ilio,s s.aadest there,

 Beautiful, boundess Armament That swelling wide o'er earth and air,

 And round the horizon bent, With that bright vault and sapphire wall, Dost overhang and circle all. Far, far below thee, tall grey trees

 Arise, and piles built up of old, And hills whose ancient summits freeze

 In the fierce light and cold; The eagle scars his utmost height, Yet far thou stretchest o'cr his flight. Thou hast thy frowns; with thee, on high,

 The storm has made his airy seat; Beyond thy soft blue curtain lie

 His stores of hail and sleet; Thence the consuming lightnings break; There the strong hurricanes awake. Yet thou art prodigal of smiles

 Smiles sweeter than thy frowns are stern, Earth sends, from all her thousand isles,

 A song at their return; The glory that comes down from thee Bathes in deep joy the land and sea. The sun, the gorgeous sun, is thine,

 The pomp that brings and shuts the day, The clouds thatround him change and shine,

 The airs that fan his way. Thence look tue thoughtful stars, and there Tine meek moon wakes the silent air. The sunny Italy may boast

 The beauteous tints that flush her skies, And lovely, round the Grecian coast,

 May thy blue pillars rise = Ionly know how fair they stand About my own beloved land And they are fair; charm is theirs, That earth--the proud nearth--hasnot, With all the hues, and forms and airs,

 That haunt her sweetest spot. We gaze upon thy calm, pure sphere, And read of heavens eternal year. Oh when amid the throng of men,

 The heart grows sick of hollow mirth, How willingly we turn us, then,

 Away from this cold earth, And look into thy azure breast, For seats of innocence and rest.