Then bugle's note and cannon's roar the death-like silence broke,

And with one start, and with one cry, the royal city

woke ;

50

At once on all her stately gates arose the answer

ing fires;

At once the wild alarum clash'd from all her reeling spires;

From all the batteries of the Tower peal'd loud the voice of fear;

And all the thousand masts of Thames sent back a louder cheer;

And from the farthest wards was heard the rush of hurrying feet, 55 And the broad streams of pikes and flags dash'd down each roaring street;

And broader still became the blaze, and louder still

the din,

As fast from every village round the horse came spurring in ;

And eastward straight from wild Blackheath the warlike errand went,

And roused in many an ancient hall the gallant squires of Kent. 60

Southward from Surrey's pleasant hills flew these

bright couriers forth;

High on bleak Hampstead's swarthy moor they started for the north;

And on, and on, without a pause untired they bounded still;

All night from tower to tower they sprang; they

sprang from hill to hill;

Till the proud Peak unfurl'd the flag o'er Darwin's

rocky dales,

65

Till like volcanoes flared to heaven the stormy hills

of Wales,

Till twelve fair counties saw the blaze on Malvern's lonely height,

Till stream'd in crimson on the wind the Wrekin's1 crest of light,

Till broad and fierce the star came forth on Ely's stately fane,

And town and hamlet rose in arms o'er all the boundless plain;

70

Till Belvoir's lordly terraces the sign to Lincoln

sent,

And Lincoln sped the message on o'er the wide

vale of Trent;

3

Till Skiddaw saw the fire that burnt on Gaunt's " embattled pile,

And the red glare on Skiddaw roused the burghers

of Carlisle.

MACAULAY.

THE BIRD'S NEST.

IT wins my admiration,

To view the structure of that little work,
A bird's nest. Mark it well, within, without.
No tool had he that wrought, no knife to cut,
No nail to fix, no bodkin to insert,

No glue to join his little beak was all.
And yet how neatly finished! what nice hand,
With every implement and means of art,
And twenty years' apprenticeship to boot,
Could make me such another? Vainly, then,
We boast of excellence, whose noblest skill
Instinctive genius foils.

JAMES HURDIS.

5

ΙΟ

1 Wrekin-a famous hill in Shropshire.

2 Belvoir's lordly terraces-Belvoir Castle, Leicestershire.

3 Gaunt's embattled pile-Lancaster Castle, held by the descendants of John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster.

WHAT IS PRAYER?

PRAYER is the soul's sincere desire,
Utter'd or unexpress'd;

The motion of a hidden fire

That trembles in the breast.

Prayer is the simplest form of speech

5

That infant lips can try;

Prayer the sublimest strains that reach
The Majesty on high.

Prayer is the contrite sinner's voice,
Returning from his ways;

While angels in their songs rejoice,
And cry, "Behold, he prays!"

Prayer is the Christian's vital breath,
The Christian's native air;

His watchword at the gates of death-
He enters heaven with prayer.

J. MONTGOMERY.

ΙΟ

15

THE YOUNG LADY AND THE

LOOKING-GLASS.

YE deep philosophers, who can
Explain that various creature, man,
Say, is there any point so nice,
As that of off'ring a friend advice?
To bid your friend his errors mend,
Is almost certain to offend :
Though you in softest terms advise,
Confess him good, admit him wise ;
In vain you sweeten the discourse,
He thinks you call him fool, or worse.
You paint his character, and try
If he will own it, and apply.

5

ΙΟ

Without a name reprove and warn :
Here none are hurt, and all may learn ;
This, too, must fail, the picture shown,
No man will take it for his own.
In moral lectures treat the case,
Say this is honest, that is base;
In conversation none will bear it,
And for the pulpit, few come near it.
And is there, then, no other way
A moral lesson to convey?
Must all that shall attempt to teach,
Admonish, satirize, or preach?
Yes, there is one, an ancient art,

15

20

25

By sages found to reach the heart:

They would by simple tales advise,

Which took the hearer by surprise ;
Alarm'd his conscience, unprepared,

There was a little stubborn dame
Whom no authority could tame,
Restive by long indulgence grown,
No will she minded but her own:
At trifles oft she'd scold and fret,
Then in a corner take a seat,
And sourly moping all the day
Disdain alike to work or play.
Papa all softer arts had tried,

40

45

And sharper remedies applied,

But both were vain, for every course

He took still made her worse and worse.

'Tis strange to think how female wit,

So oft should make a lucky hit,
When man with all his high pretence
To deeper judgment, sounder sense,

50

Will err, and measures false pursue-
'Tis very strange I own, but true-
Mama observed the rising lass,
By stealth retiring to the glass,
To practise little airs unseen,
In the true genius of thirteen :
On this a deep design she laid
To tame the humour of the maid:
Contriving like a prudent mother
To make one folly cure another.
Upon the wall against the seat
Which Jessy used for her retreat,
Whene'er by accident offended,

55

60

65

A looking-glass was straight suspended,

That it might show her how deform'd

She look'd, and frigntful when she storm'd; And warn her as she prized her beauty,

To bend her humour to her duty.
All this the looking-glass achieved,
Its threats were minded and believed.

70

And learn of course those faults to mend
Which but to mention would offend.

WILLIAM WILKIE.

SONG: "MEN OF ENGLAND."

MEN of England! who inherit

Rights that cost your sires their blood!

Men whose undegenerate spirit

Has been proved on land and flood: