—When on yon vaulted heavens I look,
That proudest page in nature's book,
Where the fair moon her course doth hold
And stars shoot forth in beamy gold,
Lord what is man!—that from above
Thou deign'st to visit him with love,
And kindly place him just below
Those angel-guards that round thee glow.—
—Thou giv'st him power to rule the train
That glide within the secret main,
And those that spread the sounding wing,
And mid the fields of ether sing,
And those who roam the varied earth
Of gentle kind, or savage birth.
—Yet what is he, frail child of clay?—
Who boasts o'er fleeting earth the sway,
Himself the being of a day,
Compared Oh God of Hosts, to thee,
Great Ruler of Immensity!
THE COMET OF 1825.
Amid the bright, ethereal road,
Serene, the solar system glow'd,
From central orb, to farthest space,
Each marshall'd planet knew its place,
All measuring out their varied year
Amid the music of the sphere,
As when from chaos first they sprang
And morning stars together sang.—
—But all at once, a stranger came
With fearful haste on car of flame,
