CPOETRY.)
Sulitid for the Supremont

Suit the Iction to the Word and the Word to the
Kelion; with this special observance, that you
o'erstep not the Modesty of Nature.

Shakespeare.
1816

Printed by SHamiltwe, Weybridge, Sony

| Gives us free scope; only doth backward pollo (1. ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. I Our slow designs, when we ourselves are dull.

SHAKSPEARE. | Impossible be strange attempts to those
Advice.

That weigh their pain in sense, and do suppose. RE thou blest, Bertram ! and succeed thy What hath been cannot be. Who ever strove father

To show her merit, that did miss her love? In manners as in shape; thy blood and virtue Character of r noble Courtier, by an old Contend for empire in thee, and thy goodness

Cotemporary. Share with thy birth-right. Love all; trust a | King. I would I had that corporal soundness few ;

now, Do wrong to none; be able for thine enemy | As when thy father and myself in friendship Rather in power than use; and keep thy friend First tried our soldiership! He did look for Under thy own life's key; be check'd for si- / Into the service of the time, and was lence

Discipled of the bravest. He lasted long; But never tax'd for speech. What Heaven | But on us both did haggish age steal on, more will,

[down, | And wore us out of act. It much repairs me That thee way furnish, and my prayers pluck To talk of your good father. In his youth Fall on thy head!

He had the wit which I can well observe

To day in our young lords; but they may jest Too ambitious Love.

Till their own scorn return to them unnoted, I am undone ; there is no living, none, Ere they can hide their levity in honor: If Bertram be away. It were all one,

So like a courtier, contempt nor bitterness That I should love a bright particular star, Were in his pride or sharpness; if they were, And think to wed it, he is so above me! His equal had awak'd them; and his honor, In his bright radiance and collateral light Clock'to itself, knew the true minute when Must I be comforted, not in his sphere, Exception bid him speak; and at that time Th' ambition in my love thus plagues itself : His tongue obey'd his hand. Who were below The hind that would be inated by the lion He us'd as creatures of another place, shim Must die for love. "Twas pretty tho' a plague, And bow'd his imminent top to their low ranks, To see him every hour; to sit and draw Making them proud of his humility, His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls, In their poor praise he humbled; such a man lo our heart's table: heart, too capable Might be a copy to these younger times, Of every line and trick of his sweet favor! | Which, follow'd well, would demonstrate them But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancy But goers backward.

(now Must sanctify his relics.

Would I were with him !-He would always

sayA parasitical vain Coward.

(Methinks I hear him now; his plausive words I know him a notorious liar; | He scatter'd not in ears; but grafted them Think him a great way fool, solely a coward; I To grow there, and to bear). Let me not live' Yet these fix'd evils sit so fit in him,

--Thus his good melancholy oft began, That they take place, when virtue's steely bones On the catastrophe and heel of pastime, Look bleak in the cold wind : withal, full oft / When it was out-'Let me not live,' quoth he, we see

• After my flame lacks oil; to be the snuff Cold wisdom waiting on superfluous folly. l'Of younger spirits, whose apprehensive senses

l'All but new things disdain ; whose judgeThe Remedy of Evils generally in ourselves.

[stancies Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, · Mere fathers of their garments; whose conWhich we ascribe to Heaven. The fatod sky Expire before their fashions'-This he wish'd

IE DAILY

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BELLE.

(From the Illustrated London News.)

What tribute shall we give the brave,

Who fight the glorious fight, :
Who stand or fall in freedom's cause

Defenders of the right,
Who ward the blow that tyrants deal

And vengeance they would wreak ?
The meed they claim—the wreath of fame,

The glory which they seek;
Living, th' applause of grateful crowds

And pathways fresh with blooms;
And, when they die, the world's regret,

Emblazoned on their tombs.

Gifted

II.

the

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And what the tribute greater still

We owe the humbler brave,
Who, though the light of glory shine

Like sunlight on the wave,
Look up from sunlight to

And see, through clouds afar,
The fairer ray, more bright than day,

Of Duty's guiding star;
Who ask no recompense of men,

To save a brother's life,
And shame, by greater bravery,
The bravest deeds of strife?'

III.
What shall we give them-souls sublime,

Who in the stormy dark,
When frantic seas assault the shore,

And whirl the helpless bark
On treacherous sands, hear far away,

Amid the fitful gale,
"The boom of guns, the seaman's cry,

Or dying woman's wail,
"Then launch their skiff, through blinding foam

Of wild waves tempest-trod,
"Their errand, Love; their only guides,
Their own true hearts and God ?

IV.
Heroes of Pence ! no pomp of war,

Or sound of fife and drum;
No splendour of the soldier's craft,

Or hope of joys to come,
Make quick their pulse with high resolve,

Or nerve their honest hands;
"They only feel that mercy calls,

And at its high commands .
"They look at peril face to face,

With calm, untroubled eye;
And, when it bursts, undaunted still,
They meet it-and defy !

v.
What shall we give them? Honour ? Fame ?

Ay, these, and something more
The gratitude of free men's hearts,

And tribute from their store;
Yet, not to satisfy a debt

'Twould beggar gold to pay,
But, for example to the world,

High gleaming to the day;
The gallant hearts—the hardy wights-

Wño, mid the foam and swell,
Made fárnous in all time to come
The hapless “Northern Belle.”

VI.
And those who died the noble nine ?

When pitying sighs are borne,
We'll not forget their orphan babes

And widows left forlorn.
If nought can dry those widows' tears,

And heal the wounded heart,
To help them in their hour of need

Let England do its part.
Small bounty-great in its intent-

May light their household fires;
And teach their babes in future days

To imitate their sires.
Jan. 14, 1857.

CHARLES MACKAY.