Save when the wren flits from her down-coved nest,
And from the root-sprigs trills her ditty clear—
The grasshopper's oft-pausing chirp-the buzz,
Angrily shrill, of moss-entangled bee,

That soon as loos'd booms with full twang away-
The sudden rushing of the minnow shoal,
Scared from the shallows by my passing tread:
Dimpling the water glides, with here and there
A glossy fly, skimming in circlets gay

The treacherous surface, while the quick-eyed trout
Watches his time to spring; or from above,

Some feather'd dam, purveying 'mong the boughs,
Darts from her perch, and to her plumeless brood
Bears off the prize. Sad emblem of man's lot!
He, giddy insect, from his native leaf,

(Where safe and happily he might have lurk'd,)
Elate upon ambition's gaudy wings,
Forgetful of his origin, and worse,
Unthinking of his end, flies to the stream,
And if from hostile vigilance he 'scape,
Buoyant he flutters but a little while,
Mistakes the inverted image of the sky
For heaven itself, and, sinking, meets his fate.
Now, let me trace the stream up to its source
Among the hills, its runnel by degrees
Diminishing, the murmur turns a tinkle.
Closer and closer still the banks approach,

Tangled so thick with pleaching bramble shoots,
With brier and hazel branch, and hawthorn spray,
That, fain to quit the dingle, glad I mount
Into the open air: grateful the breeze

That fans my throbbing temples! smiles the plain
Spread wide below: how sweet the placid view!

But, oh! more sweet the thought, heart-soothing thought,
That thousands and ten thousands of the sons

Of toil partake this day the common joy
Of rest, of peace, of viewing hill and dale,
Of breathing in the silence of the woods,
And blessing Him who gave the Sabbath-day.
Yes! my heart flutters with a freer throb,
To think that now the townsman wanders forth
Among the fields and meadows, to enjoy
The coolness of the day's decline, to see
His children sport around, and simply pull
The flower and weed promiscuous, as a boon
Which proudly in his breast they smiling fix.

But hark! a plaintive sound floating along!
'Tis from yon heath-roof'd shieling; now it dies
Away, now rises full; it is the song
Which He, who listens to the hallelujahs
Of choiring seraphim, delights to hear:
It is the music of the heart, the voice
Of venerable age, of guileless youth,
In kindly circle seated on the ground

Before their wicker door. Behold the man!
The grandsire and the saint; his silvery locks
Beam in the parting ray; before him lies,
Upon the smooth-cropt sward, the open book,
His comfort, stay, and ever-new delight;
While heedless at a side, the lisping boy
Fondles the lamb that nightly shares his couch.

PERSECUTION AND FAITH OF THE COVENANTERS.

With them each day was holy, every hour
They stood prepared to die, a people doom'd
To death;-old men, and youths, and simple maids.
With them each day was holy; but that morn
On which the angel said, "See where the Lord

Was laid," joyous arose; to die that day

Was bliss. Long ere the dawn, by devious ways,

O'er hills, through woods, o'er dreary wastes, they sought The upland muirs, where rivers, there but brooks, Dispart to different seas: Fast by such brooks

A little glen is sometimes scoop'd, a plat

With green sward gay, and flowers that strangers seem
Amid the heathery wild, that all around
Fatigues the eye. In solitudes like these,
Thy persecuted children, Scotia, foil'd
A tyrant's and a bigot's bloody laws:

There, leaning on his spear, (one of the array,

Whose gleam, in former days, hath scathed the rose
On England's banner, and had powerless struck
The infatuate monarch and his wavering host,)
The lyart veteran heard the word of God
By Cameron thunder'd, or by Renwick pour'd
In gentle stream; then rose the song, the loud
Acclaim of praise. The wheeling plover ceased
Her plaint. The solitary place was glad,
And on the distant cairns the watcher's ear
Caught doubtfully at times the breeze-borne note.
But years more gloomy follow'd; and no more
The assembled people dared, in face of day,
To worship God, or even at the dead

Of night, save when the wintry-storm raved fierce,
And thunder-peals compell'd the men of blood
To couch within their dens: then dauntlessly
The scatter'd few would meet, in some deep dell
By rocks o'er-canopied, to hear the voice,
Their faithful pastor's voice: He by the gleam
Of sheeted lightning oped the sacred book,
And words of comfort spake: Over their souls
His accents soothing came-as to her young
The heathfowl's plumes, when, at the close of eve,
She gathers in, mournful, her brood dispersed
By murderous sport, and o'er the remnant spreads
Fondly her wings; close nestling 'neath her breast,
They, cherish'd, cower amid the purple blooms.

THE POOR MAN'S FUNERAL.

Yon motley, sable-suited throng, that wait
Around the poor man's door, announce a tale
Of wo, the husband, parent, is no more.
Contending with disease, he labor'd long,
By penury compell'd; yielding at last,
He laid him down to die; but, lingering on
From day to day, he from his sick-bed saw,
Heart-broken quite, his children's looks of want
Veil'd in a clouded smile; alas! he heard
The elder lispingly attempt to still

The younger's plaint-languid he raised his head,
And thought he yet could toil, but sunk
Into the arms of Death-the poor man's friend.

The coffin is borne out; the humble pomp
Moves slowly on; the orphan mourner's hand
(Poor helpless child!) just reaches to the pall.
And now they pass into the field of graves,
And now around the narrow house they stand,
And view the plain black board sink from the sight.
Hollow the mansion of the dead resounds,

As falls each spadeful of the bone-mix'd mould.
The turf is spread; uncover'd is each head—

A last farewell: all turn their several ways.

Woes me! those tear-dimm'd eyes, that sobbing breast!
Poor child! thou thinkest of the kindly hand

That wont to lead thee home: no more that hand
Shall aid thy feeble gait, or gently stroke
Thy sun-bleach'd head and downy cheek.
But go, a mother waits thy homeward steps;
In vain her eyes dwell on the sacred page-
Her thoughts are in the grave; 'tis thou alone,
Her first-born child, canst rouse that statue-gaze
Of wo profound. Haste to the widow'd arms;
Look with thy father's look, speak with his voice,
And melt a heart that else will break with grief.

GRANVILLE SHARP, 1735-1813.

"THE lives of some men may be contemplated in their opinions and private studies; of others, in their exertions and public concerns. It is rarely that the world beholds the union of unceasing action and unwearied study; still more rarely does it enjoy the sight of such united power devoting itself, at once meekly and resolutely, in the fear of God, to the best good of man. Yet such was the character of Granville Sharp."

1 See "Memoirs of Granville Sharp, Esq.," by Prince Hoare. London, 1820, 4to, pp. 554.

Such are the remarks made by the biographer of Mr. Sharp in entering upon the consideration of his character-a character to which I feel, with depressing sensibility, no justice can be done in the short space allotted to these biographical notices. He was the son of the Rev. Thomas Sharp, Archdeacon of Northumberland, and was born in Durham, on the 10th of November, 1735. In 1750 he left Durham, having been apprenticed to a linen-draper of London. At the end of his apprenticeship, he engaged in a linen factory, and it was at this period he made his first advances in learning. Having a series of controversies with a scholar in London, whose name is not given, upon some disputed doctrines in the New Testament, his antagonist denied the correctness of our translation; whereupon Mr. Sharp, with that singleness of purpose which attended him through life, to spare no labors to ascertain the truth, immediately set upon the study of Greek, and with so much success, that he some years afterward published a small work upon the Greek Article. A controversy of a similar character with a learned Jew led him to the study of the Hebrew language.

In June, 1758, he obtained a subordinate appointment in the Ordnance Office. From this time to 1765, little is known of him, except that he was pushing his studies in the ancient languages, Latin, Greek, and Hebrew, with untiring industry. In this latter year, a circumstance happened which gave a new direction to his whole life, and which has caused him to be looked up to by a grateful posterity as the pioneer in the great and glorious reform, then commenced, of the abolition of slavery in England; then of the abolition of the slave trade; and finally, in 1834, of the abolition of slavery throughout the whole extent of the British empire.

In 1765, a man by the name of Lisle had brought to England, from Barbadoes, an African, whom he claimed as his slave, by the name of Jonathan Strong. He treated him in a very cruel manner, and beat him so severely over the head as to cause his head to swell: from this, a serious disorder fell into his eyes, and he was abandoned by his master to the charities of the world. In this situation he applied to William Sharp, surgeon, the brother of Granville, and in process of time was cured. When cured, his so-called owner, who had in his sickness abandoned him, met him; and seeing him so well and strong, claimed him as his property. He fled to some friends for protection, and the knowledge of his case soon came to the ears of Granville Sharp, and enlisted all the energies of his soul. Suffice it to say that, by great exertions, he finally obtained the full release of the man.' But Mr. Sharp saw that the case of poor Strong was but one of many similar instances that existed in England, and he determined to devote his powers to effect the abolition of a system of oppression that was productive of such monstrous evils. Of his labors in this great enterprise, we will quote the account given in the "Edinburgh Review:"2

'Regardless of the dangers to which he exposed himself, both in his person and his fortune, Mr. Sharp stood forward in every case as the courageous friend of the poor Africans in England, in direct opposition to an opinion of Yorke and

Read an interesting account of the case in the "Memoirs" before referred to, and also "Clarkson's History of the Abolition of the Slave Trade," pp. 66, 67.

Edinburgh Review, xii. 362.

Talbot, the attorney and solicitor-general for the time being. This opinion had been acted upon; and so high was its authority, that, after it had been made public, it was held as the settled law of the land, that a slave, neither by baptism nor arrival in Great Britain or Ireland, acquires freedom, but may be legally forced back to the plantations. Discouraged by Judge Blackstone and several other eminent lawyers, Mr. Sharp devoted three years of his life to the study of the English law, that he might render himself the more effectual advocate of these friendless strangers. In his work, entitled, 'A Representation of the Injustice and Dangerous Tendency of tolerating Slavery in England,' published in the year 1769, and afterward, in his learned and laborious Inquiry into the Principles of Villanage,' he refuted the opinion of Yorke and Talbot by unanswerable arguments, and neutralized their authority by the counter-opinion of the great Lord Chief Justice Holt, who many years before had decided that, as force could be used against no man in England without a legal process, every slave coming into England became free, inasmuch as the laws of England recognised the distinction between person and property as perpetual and sacred. Finally, in the great case of Somerset, which was argued at three different sittings, in January, in February, and in May of the year 1772, (the opinion of the judges having been taken upon the pleadings,) it was at last ascertained and declared to be the law of the land, that, as soon as ever any slave set his foot upon English territory, he became free. Among the heroes and sages of British story, we can think of few whom we should feel a greater glow of honest pride in claiming as an ancestor, than the man to whom we owe our power of repeating, with truth,

'Slaves cannot breathe in England: if their lungs.
Receive our air, that moment they are free;
They touch our country, and their shackles fall.'"

After this, Mr. Sharp interested himself very much in the cause of slavery in America, and corresponded with that great-hearted philanthropist, Anthony Benezet, with Dr. Franklin, Dr. Rush,1 and others. During all this time, he was merely a clerk in the Ordnance Office; but an incident soon occurred which prevented him from remaining in it any longer-an incident which showed a scrupulous integrity, a transparent beauty of character, as rare as it is delightful to behold. He had long witnessed with great solicitude the difficulties between England and her then American colonies, and sympathized entirely with the latter, justly holding the sentiment "Our country, right or wrong," to be an execrable one. Accordingly, in 1774, he published a work entitled, "A Declaration of the People's Natural Rights to a Share in the Legislature," the very thing for which WE so strenuously contended. When, therefore, hostilities actually occurred, and

'I must give a short extract from one of the letters of the venerable Dr. Rush to Mr. Sharp, dated Philadelphia, May 1, 1773, it does so much credit to the heart of the author:-"A spirit of humanity and religion begins to awaken, in several of the colonies, in favor of the poor negroes. The clergy begin to bear a public testimony against this violation of the laws of Nature and Christianity. Great events have been brought about by small beginnings. Anthony Benezet stood alone, a few years ago, in opposing negro slavery in Philadelphia, and now three-fourths of the province, as well as the city, cry out against it. I sometimes please myself with the hopes of living to see it abolished. With esteem for your virtues, and in particular for your zeal in behalf of the negro slaves in America. I am, with great respect, yours, "BENJAMIN RUSH."

2 The office for the supply of cannon for the army.