So thick a haze o'erspreads the sky,
They cannot see the sun on high;
The wind hath blown a gale all day,
At evening it hath died away.

On the deck the Rover takes his stand,
So dark it is they see no land.

Quoth Sir Ralph, "It will be lighter soon,
For there is the dawn of the rising moon,"

"Canst hear," said one, "the breakers roar?
For methinks we should be near the shore.
Now where we are I cannot tell,

But I wish I could hear the Inchcape Bell."

They hear no sound, the swell is strong;
Though the wind hath fallen they drift along,
Till the vessel strikes with a shivering shock,-
"Mercy! it is the Inchcape Rock!"

Sir Ralph the Rover tore his hair,
And beat his breast in his despair;
The waves rush in on every side,

And the ship sinks down beneath the tide.

2. THE FIRST GRIEF.

OHI call my brother back to me!

I cannot play alone;

The summer comes with flower and bee;
Where is my brother gone?

SOUTHEY

"The butterfly is glancing bright
Across the sunbeam's track;
I care not now to chase its flight -
Oh! call my brother back!

"The flowers run wild,-the flowers we sowed Around our garden tree;

Our vine is drooping with its load

Oh! call him back to me!"

"He would not hear thy voice, fair child—
He may not come to thee!

The face that once like spring-time smiled
On earth no more thou'lt see.

"A rose's brief bright life of joy,
Such unto him was given;
Go, thou must play alone, my boy!
Thy brother is in heaven."

"And has he left his birds and flowers?

And must I call in vain?

And thro' the long, long summer hours,
Will he not come again?

"And by the brook and in the glade
Are all our wanderings o'er?
Oh! while my brother with me played,
Would I had loved him more!"

MRS. HEMANS.

3. ALEXANDER SELKIRK.

AM monarch of all I survey;

My right there is none to dispute; From the centre all round to the sea

I am lord of the fowl and the brute. O Solitude! where are the charms

That sages have seen in thy face?
Better dwell in the midst of alarms,
Than reign in this horrible place!
I am out of humanity's reach,
I must finish my journey alone,
Never hear the sweet music of speech-
I start at the sound of my own!
The beasts that roam over the plain
My form with indifference see;
They are so unacquainted with man,
Their tameness is shocking to me.

Society, friendship, and love,
Divinely bestow'd upon man,-
O had I the wings of a dove,
How soon would I taste you again!
My sorrows I then might assuage
In the ways of religion and truth;
Might learn from the wisdom of age,
And be cheered by the sallies of youth.

Religion! what treasure untold

Resides in that heavenly word! More precious than silver and gold, Or all that this earth can afford!

But the sound of the church-going bell
These valleys and rocks never heard,
Never sigh'd at the sound of a knell,
Or smil'd when a sabbath appear'd!

Ye winds, that have made me your sport,
Convey to this desolate shore
Some cordial endearing report

Of a land I shall visit no more.
My friends,- do they now and then send
A wish or a thought after me?

O tell me I

yet

have a friend,

Though a friend I am never to see!

How fleet is a glance of the mind!
Compar'd with the speed of its flight,
The tempest itself lags behind,

And the swift-winged arrows of light!
When I think of my own native land,
In a moment I seem to be there;
But, alas! recollection at hand
Soon hurries me back to despair!

But the sea-fowl is gone to her nest,
The beast is laid down in his lair;
Even here is a season of rest,
And I to my cabin repair.
There's mercy in every place;
And mercy, encouraging thought!
Gives even affliction a grace,
And reconciles man to his lot.

COWPER.

4. THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB.

THE

HE Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.

Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green, That host with their banners at sunset were seen; Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown, That host, on the morrow, lay wither'd and strown.

For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed on the face of the foe, as he pass'd; And the eyes of the sleepers wax'd deadly and chill, And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still.

And there lay the steed, with his nostril all wide,
But through it there roll'd not the breath of his pride;
And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf,
And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.

And there lay the rider, distorted and pale,
With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail;
And the tents were all silent, the banners alone,
The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.

And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail;
And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal;
And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword,
Hath melted, like snow. in the glance of the Lord.

LORD BYRON.