GOD! have mercy in this dreadful hour
On the poor mariner! in comfort here
Safe sheltered as I am, I almost fear
The blast that rages with resistless power.
What were it now to toss upon the waves,

The maddened waves, and know no succour near :
The howling of the storm alone to hear,
And the wild sea that to the tempest raves;
To gaze amid the horrors of the night
And only see the billow's gleaming light;

Then in the dread of death to think of her
Who, as she listens sleepless to the gale,
Puts up a silent prayer and waxes pale,—

'O God! have mercy on the mariner !'

TO A FRIEND.

RIEND of my earliest years and childish days, My joys, my sorrows, thou with me hast shared, Companion dear, and we alike have fared (Poor pilgrims we) through life's unequal ways; It were unwisely done, should we refuse To cheer our path as featly as we may, Our lonely path to cheer, as travellers use, With merry song, quaint tale, or roundelay; And we will sometimes talk past troubles o'er, Of mercies shewn, and all our sickness healed, And in his judgments God remembering love; And we will learn to praise God evermore For those glad tidings of great joy revealed By that sooth Messenger sent from above.

CHARLES Lamb.

E were two pretty babes; the youngest she,
The youngest, and the loveliest far, I ween,

And Innocence her name. The time has been

We two did love each other's company;

Time was, we two had wept to have been apart.
But when, by show of seeming good beguiled,

I left the garb and manners of a child,
And my first love, for man's society,
Defiling with the world my virgin heart—
My loved companion dropped a tear, and fled,
And hid in deepest shades her awful head.
Beloved, who shall tell me where thou art—
In what delicious Eden to be found-

That I may seek thee the wide world around.

CHARLES LAMB.

IN Christian world Mary the garland wears !
Rebecca sweetens on a Hebrew's ear;

Quakers for pure Priscilla are more clear;
And the light Gaul by amorous Ninon swears ;
Among the lesser lights how Lucy shines!
What air of fragrance Rosamond throws round !
How like a hymn doth sweet Cecilia sound!
Of Marthas, and of Abigails, few lines

Have bragged in verse. Of coarsest household stuff Should homely Joan be fashioned. But can

You Barbara resist, or Marian?

And is not Clare for love excuse enough?

Yet, by my faith in numbers, I profess,
These all than Saxon Edith please me less.

CHARLES LAMB.

NIGHT AND DEATH.

YSTERIOUS Night! when our first parent

knew

Thee from report divine, and heard thy name, Did he not tremble for this lovely frame,

This glorious canopy of light and blue?

Yet 'neath a curtain of translucent dew,
Bathed in the rays of the great setting flame,
Hesperus with the host of heaven came,

And lo! creation widened' in man's view.

Who could have thought such darkness lay concealed
Within thy beams, O Sun! or who could find,
Whilst fly and leaf and insect stood revealed,
That to such countless orbs thou mad'st us blind!
Why do we then shun death with anxious strife?
If Light can thus deceive, wherefore not Life?
JOSEPH BLANCO WHITE.