146 PROVIDENCE-MIGRATION OF BIRDS. they departed, and find nothing but a few feathers, marks of their passage, already dispersed by the wind. Concordances with the scenes of nature, or reasons of utility to man, determine the different migrations of animals. The birds that appear in the months of storms have dismal voices and savage manners, like the season which brings them; they come not to be heard, but to listen; there is something in the dull roaring of the woods that charms their ears. The trees, which mournfully wave their leafless summits, bear only black legions, which have associated for the winter; they have their sentinels and their advanced guards frequently a crow, who has seen a hundred winters, the ancient sybil of the deserts, who has survived several generations, remains singly perched on an oak which has grown old with her; there, while all her sisters maintain a profound silence, motionless, and, as it were, full of thought, she delivers prophetic monosyllables, from time to time, to the winds. It is very remarkable that the teal, the duck, the goose, the woodcock, the plover, the lapwing, which serve us for food, all arrive when the earth is bare; while, on the contrary, the foreign birds by which we are visited in the season of fruits, administer only to our pleasures ; they are musicians sent to heighten the delights of our banquets. We must, however, except a few, such as the quail and the wood-pigeon, the season for taking which does not commence till after the harvest, and which fatten on our corn, that they may afterwards supply our tables.-Chateaubriand. HENRY KIRKE WHITE. Principal Works.-Clifton Grove, Melancholy Hours, Letters, THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM. Can fix the sinner's wandering eye: Once on the raging seas I rode; The storm was loud, the night was dark ; The ocean yawned, and rudely blowed The wind that tossed my foundering bark: Deep horror then my vitals froze, Death-struck, I ceased the tide to stem; When suddenly a star arose It was the star of Bethlehem! It was my guide, my light, my all, It bade my dark forebodings cease; Now, safely moored, my perils o'er, I'll sing, first in night's diadem, For ever and for evermore The star-the star of Bethlehem! N. P. WILLIS. WINE. Look not upon the wine when it Is red within the cup! Stay not for Pleasure when she fills Her tempting beaker up! Though clear its depths, and rich its glow, A spell of madness lurks below. They say 'tis pleasant on the lip, They say it stirs the sluggish blood, Its rosy lights will turn to fire, Then dash the brimming cup aside, "Tis red and rich-but grief and woe HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. EXCELSIOR.* THE shades of night were falling fast, His brow was sad; his eye beneath, And like a silver clarion rung The accents of that unknown tongue, In happy homes he saw the light 66 Try not the Pass," the old man said; "Dark lowers the tempest overhead, The roaring torrent is deep and wide!" And loud that clarion voice replied, Excelsior! * Higher, in the sense of progress heavenward. 150 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. "O stay," the maiden said, "and rest "Beware the pine-tree's withered branch: This was the peasant's last Good-night, At break of day, as heavenward A traveller, by the faithful hound, There in the twilight cold and gray, |