Music — Poetry — Fiction 



I hear but a measureless prayer, 1842 



As of multitudes wailing in anguish; Appleton 



I see but one fluttering plunge, 

 As if angels were falling from heaven. 

 Indistinctly, at times, I behold 

 Cuthullin and Ossian's old heroes 

 Look at me with eyes sad with tears, 

 And a summons to follow their flying, 

 Absorbed in wild, eerie rout, 

 Of wind-swept and desolate spectres. 

 As deepens the night, a clear cry 

 At times cleaves the boom of the waters ; 

 Comes with it a terrible sense 

 Of suffering extreme and forever. 

 The beautiful rainbow is dead, 

 And gone are the birds which sang through it. 

 The incense so mounting is now 

 A stifling, sulphurous vapor, 

 The abyss is the hell of the lost, 

 Hopeless falling to fires everlasting. 

 June, 1842. 



H. D. M. The Falls of Niagara. (West. lit. mess'gr. Aug. 17, 1842 

 1842. 2:56.) H. D. M. 



An original poem from the " album of Mr. Hooker." 



Majestic! and stupendous! Wonder-work, 

 Sublime beyond Imagination ! 

 Beyond expression, glorious and grand! 

 Awe-struck I stand, soul-swelling with emotion 

 Too powerful for thought; soul-wrapt witn feeling 

 Too mighty for endurance. Yet to feel 

 Thus for one moment, might repay existence, 

 Though life had been more darkly cast than mine, 

 And mine has been — no matter: Now I'm blest. 



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