THE NORTH-WESTER.
Evening approaches, and the tropic sun
The western arch of ruddy heaven has won,
And yielding to the balmy close of day,
Its scorching heat, its most oppressive ray,
Now mid ten thousand swiftly fading dyes
Looks smiling down from yonder roseate skies.
How beautiful, how placid, fair, and bright,
The gorgeous scene that greets its parting light!
The stately river's calm and waveless tide
In its deep slumber scarce is seen to glide;
So tranquil is the stream, the lotus crown
By some fond maid, or anxious lover thrown—
A bark of hope—unstirred upon its breast
In lingering tenderness appears to rest;
The idle golier from his flower-wreathed prow
With careless eye surveys the flood below;
And all the hundred oars that proudly sweep
The polished surface of the glassy deep,
Mocked by the lazy currents, vainly seek
To urge their shallops round yon woody creek,
