Man is not quite so manageable in the hands of science as boiling water
or a fixed star.

* * * * *

PICTURE OF CONSTANTINOPLE.

_(From the French of Lebrun.)_

Queen of the Morn! Sultana of the East!
City of wonders, on whose sparkling breast,
Fair, slight, and tall, a thousand palaces
Fling their gay shadows over golden seas!
Where towers and domes bestud the gorgeous land,
And countless masts, a mimic forest stand;
Where cypress shades the minaret's snowy hue,
And gleams of gold dissolve in skies of blue,
Daughter of Eastern art, the most divine--
Lovely, yet faithless bride of Constantine--
Fair Istamboul, whose tranquil mirror flings
Back with delight thy thousand colourings,
And who no equal in the world dost know,
Save thy own image pictured thus below!

Dazzled, amazed, our eyes half-blinded, fail,
While sweeps the phantasm past our gliding sail--
Like as in festive scene, some sudden light
Rises in clouds of stars upon the night.
Struck by a splendour never seen before,