His loved-lost country fadeth from the view,
And darkling cliffs assume a fainter hue :-
Remorseless waves have borne him far away
From all that lendeth joy to life's brief day!
One reeling glance !-as tho' to pierce the gloom-
Now let him bend his head-and sicken for the tomb!

So I, nor like the hot and pampered steed,
That, reined, stamps impatient to be freed:
Nor like the mariner who hath no home,
Save the white bosom of the billow's foam :
But, as the exile, lone, and sick of heart

Do see Youth's visions fade, and, wrapt in mist, depart!

Ye hallowed groves, and Muse-devoted bowers!
Ye classic halls, and ivy-mantled towers!
Garden of Hope! that, clad in shade serene,
Appear'st as one that shall be, and hath been!
Ye nurseries of many a holy name,
That shines, character'd in the scroll of Fame;
Thou demi-Paradise of innocent youth-
Of artless Friendship-unsuspecting Truth;
(What Muse shall lend my song aspiring wings?)
Cradle of Heroes-heritage of Kings;

Mother of good, and great, ETONA-thy caress

Has blest our country's fav'rite children—and will bless.

Lost in thy cloister'd courts—a thoughtless child,

I'd fain avoid that cold and pathless wild

Of broken hearts, and unrequited pain,

Contemned vows, crush'd hope, and dark disdain ;
Cling to the past, and snatch the present hour,

The last, and sweetest drop; the fairest, fleetest flower!

Oft by that aged river straying,

Whereon the sunbeams quiver, playing

Fantastically bright;

Beneath the pendant shade of trees,

That ever, and anon in graceful ease
Wave, half concealing,
Half revealing

The amber-tinted light;

A Spirit of ages, buried, and gone,
Sheds o'er my senses weary, and lone,
A sweet, reviving potion.

Then, rambling sadly thro' History's page,
She sings of the warrior, poet, and sage
With a thrilling, wild emotion ;

"ALL ETON'S PRIDE."

No more! no more!

The spirit hath sped, and this heart is sore.
Oblivion's keen, and icy finger

No more shall sever, nor destroy
Sweet thoughts, that, ever glowing, linger,
Of Youth, and Hope, and guiltless Joy!

Farewell! a word of care and fear!
Of sever'd ties! a written tear!
Farewell! a sad, and bitter token
Of shatter'd hope, and promise broken!
Farewell! I can no more dissemble :
The spell is o'er-this voice doth tremble!

Then life, and health, and thanks be thine!
I will not at my fate repine,

But waft this tribute, fond and free,
Of love, and reverence to thee!

ON A WINDMILL.

A blank unkindly land! where Autumn's gales
Find scarce one leafy monument of spring

To strip-where birds lack homes, and dare not sing;
And nature's bounteousness of verdure fails;
'Midst these penurious hedge-rows wandering
I fain would be content to watch thy sails,
Thou lone gaunt Windmill! (no familiar thing
To me, the foster-child of hills and dales,)
And though I fear thee more, and love thee less
Than the dark glancing and brave cheerful roar
Of waters dashing on a merry wheel,
Yet from thy meek unwearied yieldingness
To each light sky-born gift worth waiting for,
Calm duteous patience I may learn and feel.

THOUGHTS ON EMULATION.

"Suis te oportet illecebris ipsa virtus
trahat ad verum decus."-CICERO.

The existence, whether recognized or not, of moral habits or practices, which float hither and thither in a sort of pliant neutrality between the boundaries of wrong and right, is one of the evils arising from the necessities of an over-complicated state of society. As we cannot be content with the broad and strongly marked lines by which our forefathers were guided, we acquiesce in the conventional devices which form the staple of casuistry and spouting clubs. To condense the misty ambiguities of many prevalent sentiments and principles, so that they might be open for judgment in a more definite form would

be an undertaking worthy of the boldest and manliest philosophers. But perhaps its accomplishment is hardly within the range of man's will. One great moral "Idoloclast" has confessed his bitter sense of powerlessness to effect this. He failed-and yet his failure was heroical, and his words have survived him to inspirit others for the same life-long wrestling against the idols set up in the high places of our society. But when shall be found a name for his "tombless epitaph?" when shall a man be found as "eloquent for truth," as keen, as brave, but less scornful, and more humble in waging war against the false allies of virtue?

One of these parti-coloured idols-these untrustworthy hirelings of truth-I may with diffidence venture to single out for reprobation, because it is one with which my meagre experience has made me familiar in that place with which our contributors and our readers are alike concerned. Could I without ruinous presumption contrive to suggest to some that take up these pages in idleness or curiosity the propriety of making emulation no longer a mainspring of our studies, I might have hope for the prosperity of our slight literary undertaking, on the ground of its commencing with at least one semblance of a good effect.

I can bring no authority of moralists to help me. I can quote no paragraphs of Locke, Milton, or the Privy Council Committee, for support in assailing the system of stimulating boyish minds by the mere excitements of ambitious rivalry. I am not aware that writers on education (except the late Mr. Babington,) have paid much direct attention to the instrumental motives employed in it. Indeed I am not aware that those who are now-a-days most listened to in these matters, have been

much in the habit of testing their schemes by that which is the touchstone of all theories and inventions relating to human improvement. But surely it behoves the practical trainers of boyhood to ask themselves whether they are justified in continuing the exclusive use of what will, I trust, some day appear in its true colours as a secular and an unsound principle.

I understand emulation to consist of such a desire of improvement as is fostered by a comparison of one competitor with another. This, it will be granted, is not a simple, although it may be a natural, habit. If it be natural without being simple, I make no doubt that it is natural in the same sense that uncleanliness or greediness are. It must belong to our corrupt and vitiated nature. If it made its appearance in a child of tender years, would it not be repressed by a wise parent, and the tendency to advancement diverted into a purer channel? And are we to adopt in the school room a motive which we banish from the nursery? Are we to change our sets of moral feelings as we would change our clothes? Must the ministers of discipline yield to the growth of corrupt inclinations, and shape their system to conform with the phases of the disciple's morality? Practically I may assert that it is so. A boy comes to Eton, gifted more or less with faculties for improvement, with his parent's wish that he may " distinguish" himself, that is, acquit himself in such a manner as to leave his equals behind him. If he be only home-bred, he falls into machinery which entirely supersedes the checks and levers by which he has been hitherto controlled. If he be fresh from the transitional state of a private school, perhaps he may have to put off, rather than add to, habits of constantly measuring himself with his class-fellows, and doing his