

From the Boston Pearl. MIDN IG II TIA L A MENT
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Il U " N Il A l. \ Il l. N T

 BY ALBERT PIKE. The stars arc massing in heaven;

 Lid after lid they unfold but the shower of light that is driven To the earth Is silent and cold: The light Of each earthly star,

 Of fortune and honor and fame, Is shining brightly afar--

 But cold to the heart is their flame. The moon sittetl on the mountain, Like golden eagle alit, And down, like q silver fountain, \ stream of her light Is let: The moonlight of friendship has vanished From the erags that shadow my path The trust of my young heart is banished-- fn it's place sit sorrow and wrath. The cold wind walls through the flower, Shaking its leaves to the ground, And the grass receives theit shower With u melancholy sound The flowers of joy are scattered By sorrows tyrannoas air, And their crimson leaves are watered By the night dew of despair. The sphered Venus resteth

 Upon western cone, And coldly she inYesteth

 With light her icy throne: The sphered light of love

 iSevoiYes within tine heart, And the wasting fountains move With conVulsIVe starts The shadow of ths ridges

 Is Inassed upon the plain, And there, from withered sedges, The dying wind-its wane: The heavy shades of anguish Are massed upon the souly And there the death-notes languish, And through the desert roll. The snowy tents are sleeping Upon the dusky prairie, Like White-winged eagles keeping The silenes of their aerie: The shadows of the past Are sitting by my side; The world Is all vast,

 And with these abide. Then spheres of dew are raining Unseen; in the meon-lit air, And the grass, when night IS waning, Thin crowns of frost will wear: Death-ffosts are sternly chilling The pulses of the heart SIow-siow the Tyre Is thrilling Its harmonies depart.  The clouds are slowly steering Their racks around the moon; Amid them she IS peering, To vanish seon--teo soon: The moonlight ct existence Is fiielxering and pale, And wildly, ill the distance, Death spreads his shadowy sails The soul is slowly moaning Her sad, yet stern lameht Decay is fast dethroning The passions in 1t pent His steps are sadly echoing The wasted cells within, And in its inmost hooks they ring, With melancholy dins The eagle, proudly soaring, Mourns not the ileeting night, When on the mountains pouring, Awakes the gray daylight; Why mourn this dream of strife, When sadly 1t is waning When on the clouds of life The light of Death Is raining! Farewell, cold world, farewell. For thou hast chilled my heart, And from thy shadowy cell I ioyfully depart Farewell too, love and sorroWz@ Ye only constant friends! l leave you both tomorrow My night of anguish ends.

 