CHAPTER XI.
Let us visit the caves of a miniature ocean,
The gorgeous sea-flowers and worms to behold:—
Actinia, rose-finger'd, ever in motion;
Phyllodoce, liveried in emerald and gold.
No music is heard in these silent recesses,
Save such gentle notes as the Eolids utter;
But fair Aphrodite waves gem-spangled tresses,
And Scallops, like butterflies, merrily flutter.
Here a Sun up the crystalline pathway is clambering,
Blood-hued as his rival who sinks in the west;
Bright Stars in their devious courses are wandering,
Where the Blenny peeps forth from her well-woven nest.
These forms from the sunny South surely have wander'd;—
Anomia the pearl of the orient mocks;
Bold Dragonet, jewel-mail'd, hoists his tall standard,
And crimson-clad Labrus darts under the rocks.
How softly the feathery sea-groves are waving!
Their plume-tufts of purple, and scarlet, and green,
The pure and clear element gently is laving;—
While tiny swarms merrily sport them between.
How glorious, O Lord, are thy works of creation!
How fit to abase us, and humble our pride!
Not alone would we gaze with devout admiration,
But adore thee, obey thee, and love thee beside!
PRACTICAL INSTRUCTIONS.
This Chapter is like the postscript of a lady's letter; though placed last, it contains the most important part of the volume. I intend it to afford such assist-
