SORRENTO.1

THE SABBATH.

PRAISE WAITETH FOR THEE, O GOD, IN ZION.-PSALM LXV. 1.

THERE is a voice of praise to-day,
Borne on the breezy air;

My soul! wilt thou not share the lay,
Who dost the blessing share?
More of thy Lord dost thou discern,
Than earth, or sea, or sky;

Shame! if from Nature thou must learn,
To raise thy song on high!

The harp of Zion hangs unstrung,
Within the leafy bower;

And on the winds no more are flung

Its strains of mystic power:
Ages their passing dews have shed,
Since woke a Tasso's fire,

And creepers now, with clinging tread,
Run o'er the slumbering lyre.

The birth place of Torquato Tasso.

From nature up to nature's Lord
He raised his raptured eye,

Attuned, and smote the sounding chord,

In meditation high!

He sang of Zion lost and found,

Fit type of ruined man ;

And saw in smiles of Nature round,

Mercy's redeeming plan.

Where'er his wandering footsteps strayed,
'Mid scenes surpassing song,
Refreshing breezes ceaseless played,

The citron groves among-
Yet e'en on Nature's loveliest seat,

Hath Ruin raised her throne;

He marked, like leaves beneath his feet,
The spoils of earthquakes strewn.

He saw, where Wrath had trench'd earth's breast, Down to the sweeping sea,

And headlong smote each rocky crest,

And bowed the mountain's knee e;
Yet o'er the bleak and bare ravine,
As tho' its shame to hide,

Peace had displayed her robe of green,
And spangled it with pride.

Fit scene a Tasso's soul to win,

To a celestial thought;

How Vengeance tracked the trail of Sin,

How Mercy Pardon wrought!

Here, musing in the deep defile,
I see his youthful eye,
Smile in his Maker's pardoning smile,
And own his mercy nigh.

For all around a verdant shower

Has clothed the scathed crust,

And summoned herb, and tree, and flower, From plains of burning dust;

Where ridgy furrows reared their head,

Thick, as a lion's mane,

The trees their deep'ning foliage spread,

And all is bloom again!

Then, art thou still, my soul, when all
Thy Maker's love disclose-

Wilt thou not welcome, at their call,

Thy sabbath of repose?

More of thy Lord dost thou discern
Than earth, or sea, or sky,

Shame! if from Nature thou must learn

To raise thy song on high!

SALERNO.

HIS NAME ONLY IS EXCELLENT-HIS GLORY IS ABOVE THE EARTH AND HEAVEN.-PSALM CXLVIII. 13.

I LOVE to see the sun arise,

And fling abroad the day,

While ocean, earth, the air, the skies,
Drink in the living ray-

But rather, rather would I see
One token from my God to me!

'Tis sweet to list the rising breeze

Its murmurs softly roll,

Hold converse with the waving trees,

And steal upon the soul

But sweeter far, where'er I rove,

The voice of Him, whose voice is Love.