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The ocean from its bosom then shook off its moonlight sheen, And its wrathful billows fiercely rose to vindicate their Queen; A cloud came o'er the heavens, and a darkness o'er the land, And the scoffing crew beheld no more the Lady on the strand.

Out burst the pealing thunder, and the lightning leaped about,
And rushing with its watery war, the tempest gave a shout;
That fated bark from a mountain wave came down with direful

shock, And her timbers flew like scattered spray, on Inchidony's rock.

Then loud from all that guilty crew, one shriek rose wild and

high, But the angry surge swept over them, and hushed that maddening

cry ;With a hoarse, exulting murmur, the tempest died away, And down, still chafing from their strife, the indignant waters

lay.

When the calm and purple morning shone out on high Dunore,
Full many a mangled corse was seen on Inchidony's shore;
And even now the fisher points to where those scoffers sank,
And still proclaims that hillock green, The Virgin Mary's BANK.

J. C. C.

FROM THE ARABIC OF TOGRAI.

Thou sleep'st, while the eyes of the planets are watching,

Regardless of love and of me!
I sleep, but my dreams, at thy lineaments catching,

Present me with nothing but thee!

Thou art changed, while the colour of night changes not,

Like the fading allurements of day;
I am changed, for all beauty to me seems a blot,
While the joy of my heart is away.

THE SISTERS.

BY ALARIC A. WATTS.

They grew together
Like to a double cherry, seeming parted,
But yet an union in partition ;
Two lovely berries moulded on one stem :
So with two seeming bodies, but one heart.

Shakspeare.

I saw them when their bud of life

Was slowly opening into flower,
Before a cloud of care or strife

Had burst above their natal bower;
Ere this world's blight had marred a grace
That mantled o'er each sparkling face.

What were they then? Two twinkling stars,—

The youngest of an April sky,-
Far, far from earth, and earth-born jars,

Together shining peacefully:
Now borrowing, now dispensing light,
Radiant as hope, and calm as bright!

What were they then? Two limpid streams,

Through life's green vale in beauty gliding, Mingling like half-forgotten dreams ;

Now, 'neath the gloom of willows hiding ;Now, dancing o'er the turf away, In playful waves and glittering spray.

I see them, as I saw them then,

With careless brows, and laughing eyes;They flash upon my soul again,

With all their infant witcheries ;Two gladsome spirits, sent on earth, As envoys from the Muse of mirth!

[graphic]

Such Fancy's dreams;—but never more

May Fancy with such dreams be fed;
Those buds have withered to their core,

Before their leaves had time to spread !
Those stars are fallen from on high,
Those twin bright streams for ever dry

Whilst Spring was gladdening all the skies,

Mid blooming flowers and sunny weather, .
Death came to them in gentlest guise,

And smote them, in his love, together :
In concert thus they lived and died,
And now lie slumbering side by side!

STONEHENGE.

BY THE REV. CHARLES HOYLE.

Mysterious pile! what necromantic lore
Invoked thee into light? Moons wax and wane,
The Roman, and the Saxon, and the Dane,
Have wandered where the Druid long of yore
Purpled thy circles with unhallowed gore:
The castle sinks, the palace, and the fane,
While thou canst hear in mockery and disdain
The storms of twice ten hundred winters roar.
Yet vaunt not, giant wonder ! let the ground
Tremble, and thou art dust. The stars shall fall
From heaven : and heaven itself be as a dream,
That flies, and is forgotten. Angels all,
Eternal ages, regions without bound,
Proclaim ye one sole strength—the Ineffable-Supreme!

BY THOMAS HOOD, ESQ.

Oh when I was a tiny boy
My days and nights were full of joy,

My mates were blithe and kind !
No wonder that I sometimes sigh,
And dash the tear-drop from my eye,

To cast a look behind !

A hoop was an eternal round
Of pleasure. In those days I found

A top a joyous thing :-
But now those past delights I drop,
My head, alas ! is all my top,

And careful thoughts the string !

By marbles—once my bag was stored,
Now I must play with Elgin’s lord,

With Theseus for a taw!
My playful horse has slipt his string,
Forgotten all his capering,

And harnessed to the law!

My kite-how fast and far it flew!
Whilst I, a sort of Franklin, drew

My pleasure from the sky. ’T was papered o'er with studious themes, The tasks I wrote,—my present dreams

Will never soar so high!

My joys are wingless all, and dead;
My dumps are made of more than lead;

My flights soon find a fall;
My fears prevail, my fancies droop,
Joy never cometh with a whoop,

And seldom with a call !

My football's laid upon the shelf;—
I am a shuttlecock myself

The world knocks to and fro;
My archery is all unlearned,
And grief against myself has turned

My arrows and my bow!

No more in noontide sun I bask;
My authorship’s an endless task,

My head's ne'er out of school :
My heart is pained with scorn and slight,
I have too many foes to fight,

And friends grown strangely cool!

The very chum that shared

my

cake Holds out so cold a hand to shake,

It makes me shrink and sigh:
On this I will not dwell and hang,
The changeling would not feel a pang

Though these should meet his eye!

No skies so blue, or so serene
As then; no leaves look half so green

As clothed the playground tree!
All things I loved are altered so,
Nor does it ease my heart to know

That change resides in me!

Oh, for the garb that marked the boy,
The trowsers made of corduroy,

Well inked with black or red ;
The crownless hat, ne'er deemed an ill, -
It only let the sunshine still
Repose upon my

head!

Oh, for the ribbon round the neck !
The careless dog's-ears apt to deck

My book and collar both !

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