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The sun in heaven was shining gay,
All things were joyful on that day;
The sea-birds scream'd as they wheeld around,
And there was joyance in their sound.
The buoy of the Inchcape bell was seen,
A darker speck on the ocean green;
Sir Ralph the Rover walk'd his deck,
And he fixed his eye on the darker speck.
He felt the cheering power of spring,
It made him whistle, it made him sing ;
His heart was mirthful to excess-
But the Rover's mirth was wickedness.
His eyes were on the Inchcape float :
Quoth he, “My men, put out the boat,
And row me to the Inchcape Rock,
And I'll plague the Abbot of Aberbrothok.”
The boat is lower'd, the boatmen row,
And to the Inchcape Rock they go ;
Sir Ralph bent over from the boat,
And he cut the bell from the Inchcape float.
Down sunk the bell with a gurgling sound-
The bubbles rose and burst around;
Quoth Sir Ralph, “The next who comes to the Rock
Won't bless the Abbot of Aberbrothok."

Sir Ralph the Rover saild away ;
He scoured the seas for many a day;
And, now grown rich with plunder'd store,
He steers his course for Scotland's shore.
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.



OFT has it been my lot to mark
A proud, conceited, talking spark,
With eyes that hardly served at most
To guard their master 'gainst a post.
Yet round the world the blade had been
To see whatever could be seen ;
Returning from his finish'd tour,
Grown ten times perter than before.
Whatever words you chance to drop,
The travell’d fool your mouth will stop-
“Sir, if my judgment you'll allow,
I've seen, and sure I ought to know :"
So begs you'll pay a due submission,
And acquiesce in his decision.

Two travellers of such a cast,
As o’er Arabian wilds they pass'd,
And on their

way, in friendly chat,
Now talk'd of this, and then of that,
Discoursed awhile, ’mongst other matter,
Of the Chameleon's form and nature.



“A stranger animal,” cries one,
« Sure never lived beneath the sun !
A lizard's

body, lean and long,
A fish's head, a serpent's tongue,
Its foot with triple claw disjoin'd ;
And what a length of tail behind !
How slow it's pace! and then its hue-
Who ever saw so fine a blue ?

“ Hold there!” the other quick replies,
“ 'Tis green-I saw it with these eyes,
As late with open mouth it lay,
And warm'd it in the sunny ray
Stretch'd at its ease, the beast I view'd,
And saw it eat the air for food."

“I've seen it, sir, as well as you,
And must again affirm it blue :
At leisure I the beast survey'd,
Extended in the cooling shade.”
“ 'Tis green, 'tis green, sir, I assure ye.”
“ Green !” 'cries the other, in a fury ;
Why, sir—d'ye think I've lost my eyes

$ ?"
“ 'Twere no great loss,” the friend replies ;
“ For if they always serve you thus,
“ You'li find 'em but of little use !"

So high at last the contest rose,
From words they almost came to blows;
When luckily came by a third.
To him the question they referr'd,
And begged he'd tell 'em if he knew
Whether the thing was green or blue.
“Sirs," cries the umpire, cease your pother;
The creature's neither one nor t’other.
I caught the animal last night,
And view'd it o'er by candle-light;
I mark'd it well—'twas black as jet.
You stare ; but, sirs, I've got it yet,
And can produce it.” Pray, sir, do:
I'll lay my life the thing is blue.?
“And I'll be sworn, that when you've seen
The reptile, you'll pronounce him green.”
“Well, then at once to end the doubt,"



Replies the man, “I'll turn him out;
And when before your eyes I've set him,
If you don't find him black I'll eat him.”
He said ; then full before their sight
Produced the beast, and lo !—'twas white !
Both stared—the man look'd wondrous wise.
"My children,” the Chameleon cries,
(Then first the creature found a tongue.)
· You all are right, and all are wrong!
When next you

speak of what you view,
Think others see as well as you;
Nor wonder, if you find that none
Prefer your eyesight to their own !”



It is rocorded of Henry I., that, after the death of his son, Prince William, who perished by shipwreck off the coast of Normandy, he was Qever seen to smile.

THE barque that held a prince went down,

The sweeping waves rolld on;
And what was England's glorious crown

To him that wept a son?
He lived—for life may long be borne

Ere sorrow break its chain :
Why comes not death to those who mourn

He never smiled again !
There stood proud forms before his throne,

The stately and the brave;
But which could fill the place of one,

That one beneath the wave ?
Before him passed the young and fair,

In pleasure's reckless train;
But seas dash'd o'er his son's bright hair-

He never smiled again!
He sat where festal bowls went round;

He heard the minstrel sing;
He saw the tournay's victor crown'd
Amidst the knightly ring;




A murmur of the restless deep

Was bent with every strain,
A voice of winds that would not sleep--

He never smiled again!
Hearts, in that time, closed o'er the trace

Of vows once fondly pour'd,
And strangers took the kinsman's place

At many a joyous board ;
Graves, which true love had bath'd with tears,

Were left to heaven's bright rain ;
Fresh hopes were born for other years-
He never smiled again!

Mrs. Hemans


On Linden, when the sun was low,
All bloodless lay the untrodden snop,
And dark as winter was the flow

Of Iser, rolling rapidly.
But Linden saw another sight,
When the drum beat at dead of night,
Commanding fires of death to light

The darkness of her scenery!
By torch and trumpet fast array'd,
Each horseman drew his battle-blade,
And furious every charger neigh'd

To join the dreadful revelry.
Then shook the hills, with thunder riven !
Then rush'd the steed to battle driven !
And, louder than the bolts of heaven,

Far flash'd the red artillery!
But redder yet that light shall glow
On Linden's hills of stainéd snow;
And bloodier yet the torrent flow

Of Iser, rolling rapidly!

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