Yet ever to the heav'n-taught eye, It bears a twofold sign;

Whence man its essence may descry, Or earthborn or divine.

It never loves a coat besprent
With gems of worldly cost;
It never boasts its proud descent,
In letters deep embossed.

Unlike the rude and gaudy gem,
That courts the idler's gaze,
From ball, or princely diadem,
Flinging its flashing rays,

'Tis as the jewel of the mine,
Glistening tho' none are by;
Content in loneliness to shine,
Beneath its Maker's eye.

No bold-set characters disclose
The secret of its birth;

No glare attracts the gaze of those,
Who cannot spell its worth.

Unmarked by all, but such as love The sun's supernal beam;

It bids man raise his eye above,

Nor heed its passing gleam.

For well it knows the Day-spring bright,
And well it reads His rays;

In Him alone its source of light,
To Him alone the praise!

But should it smile at its own fame,
When in the balance tried;
HUMILITY hath lost its name,

Transmuted into PRIDE!

LAGO MAGGIORE.

THE STATUE OF S. CARLO BORROMEO.

SONNET.

THERE stands the giant-priest, in hues of morn, High o'er his native woods-his face benign Beaming, where spread the plains of corn and wine, With hand uplift to bless-his heel of scorn Turned on the mountains! Not in vain the sign; For while each Lombard city loves his image to adorn, There breathes a spirit on the mountain-height, That spurns the yoke, and will not cease to claim For man, what God hath sealed his being's right, To know His will, who marked him with His name! There thou, proud priest! hast waged a ruthless fight, Tinging the snows with blood of blind and lame! The soul thou can'st not bend, tho' thou the body slay, Where Faith her fastness holds! Well may'st thou turn away!

THE SIMPLON.

THE SABBATH.

WHICH BY HIS STRENGTH SETTETH FAST THE MOUNTAINS, BEING GIRDED WITH POWER.-PSALM LXV. 6.

WHY hide thy head beneath the tempest's wing,
Gigantic Alp! since man demands thine aid,
To rear a Sabbath-Temple to his king,
Whose arm of old thy deep foundations laid!
He looks to thee, as up his footsteps wend,
Scaling thy heights, his vows with thine to blend;
For thou a tale may'st tell of sovereign sway-
Unveil thy cloudy brow, and hail the Sabbath-day!

A Temple wert thou framed, where God might stand, To mark the movements of His creature man; Search where, to work his will, a willing hand, Or willing eye, that righteous will to scan. But O! how changed the scene! since far and near, Vile earth and viler men, once good, appear; His kingdom spurned, who gives all being breath, And holds with even hand the scales of Life and Death!