"War knows no rest,

War owns no Sabbath; war, with impious toil
Unspent, with blood unsated, to the fiends
Of vengeance still rebellious, still pursues
His work of death; nor pauses, nor relents,
For laws divine, nor sight of human woe."

GRAHAME.

EE yonder far-extended waste,—

To ruin and destruction doomed ; By many a stately mansion graced,

Once like a paradise it bloomed:

See yonder city, once the boast

And pride of all the country round,

By some revengeful warrior-host

Laid waste, and levelled to the ground.

Who but an angel could portray

The all-appalling scenes of war

The blood, the bones, that track its way,

Alluring vultures from afar.

Faturity.

"Our reason prompts us to a future state,
The last appeal from fortune and from fate,
Where GOD's all-righteous ways will be declared."

M

DRYDEN.

UST all our hopes of joys to come

Dissolve and perish when we die?

Our prospects of a future home

Fade like a meteor in the sky? Would He whose sun shall ne'er decline,

Predestine man to such a fate?

But for a moment here to shine,

Such vast intelligence create?

No! though the heavens shall pass away,
And all their radiant glories end;

The pillars of the earth decay,

And in one awful ruin blend :

No spirit shall unnumbered be

When the archangel's trump shall sound;

No soul but in eternity,

Blest or accursed, shall be found.

H

Kindness.

"I would not enter on my list of friends,

(Though graced with polished manners and fine sense,
Yet wanting sensibility) the man

Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm."

COWPER.

GOD! assist me in this task of mine,

And let Thy Spirit dictate every line;

May every sentence emanate from Thee,
Whose glorious presence fills immensity;
Whose bounty feeds the raven when it cries,

And the young eagle's daily want supplies;

Whose chart and compass guide the cuckoo's wing,
When far away she seeks another Spring,
There's not a bird but on Thy care depends,
Not one but Thy all-watchful eye attends:
Then, oh! ye children, bounding on your way,
Bright as the morn, and lightsome as the day,

Learn for their little ones, their young, to care

Earth's fields are yours, and theirs the fields of air;

Mar not a feather, ruffle not a wing,

For God not only taught them how to sing,
But tipt their pinions with a thousand dyes,
E'en with the gold that gilds the morning skies.
There's not a colt that sports along the glade,
No creature that th' Omnipotent hath made,
That was not destined, when the world began,
To be subservient to the will of man,

Placed by indulgent Heaven beneath his care,
In all the produce of the field to share;
But not to bear the tyrant's dreaded yoke,

The oft-repeated lash, th' inhuman stroke:

Ah! no-that God whose word the tempest stills,

Who owns the cattle on a thousand hills,

Marks every act of cruelty that's done,

And none can His avenging angel shun.

Tyranny.

The two succeeding Pieces were written after reading the following paragraph in the Preface to Napoleon's "Julius Cæsar:"

"When Providence raises up such men as Cæsar, Charlemagne, and Napoleon, it is to trace out to the nations the path they ought to follow, to stamp a new era with the seal of their genius, and to accomplish in a few years the work of many centuries. Happy the nations who comprehend and follow them! Woe to those who misunderstand and resist them! they are like the Jews, they crucify their Messiah; they are blind and guilty-blind, for they see not the impotence of their efforts to suspend the final triumph of good; guilty, for they only retard its progress by impeding its prompt and fertile application."

"One murder makes a villain,

Millions a hero."

"Princes were privileged to kill,

And numbers sanctified the crime."

BISHOP PORTEOUS.

HE warrior chief of noble heart,

Who at his country's bidding goes

The tyrant from his throne to start,
To battle with his country's foes,

Is worthy of his country's praise,
If nobly he its bidding do;