The grief that on my quiet preys, And white waves heaving high, my boys, There's tempest in yon hornèd moon ALLAN CUNNINGHAM. THE UNKNOWN GRAVE. That rends my heart, that checks my WHO sleeps below? who sleeps below? tongue, It is a question idle all! Ask of the breezes as they blow: Say, do they heed or hear thy call? They murmur in the trees around, And mock thy voice, an empty sound. A hundred summer suns have showered Say, did he come from East, from West, From southern climes, or where the pole With frosty sceptre doth arrest The howling billows as they roll? Within what realm of peace or strife Did he first draw the breath of life? Was he of high or low degree? Did grandeur smile upon his lot? Came the swift bolt that dashed him Then what is life, when thus we see down, When she, his chosen, blossoming In beauty, deemed him all her own, By day, by night, through calm and storm, The deck his walk, the sea his home? No trace remains of life's career? Mortal, whoe'er thou art, for thee A moral lesson gloweth here. Puttest thou in aught of earth thy trust? 'Tis doomed that dust shall mix with dust. What doth it matter, then, if thus, Without a stone, without a name, To impotently herald us, We float not on the breath of fame, But like the dewdrop from the flower Pass after glittering for an hour? When False Suspect accusèa me. A pack of pickthanks were the rest, Jealous, the gaoler, bound me fast To hear the verdict of the bill; "George," quoth the judge, "now thou art cast, Thou must go hence to Heavy Hill, And there be hanged all but the head; God rest thy soul when thou art dead!" Down fell I then upon my knee, All flat before Dame Beauty's face, And cried, "Good lady, pardon me Who here appeal unto your grace; You know if I have been untrue, It was in too much praising you. “George," quoth the judge, "hold up thy "And though this judge doth make such haste hand: Thou art arraigned of flattery; "My lord," quoth I, "this lady here, Quoth Beauty, "No, it fitteth not A prince herself to judge the cause; Will is our justice, well ye wot, Appointed to discuss our laws; If you will guiltless seem to go, God and your country quit you so." Then Craft, the crier, called a quest, Of whom was Falsehood foremost fere; To shed with shame my guiltless blood, Yet let your pity first be placed To save the man that meant you good; So shall you show yourself a queen, And I may be your servant seen.” Quoth Beauty, "Well, because I guess What thou dost mean henceforth to be, Although thy faults deserve no less Than Justice here hath judged thee, Wilt thou be bound to stint all strife, And be true prisoner all thy life?" 'Yea, madam," quoth I, "that I shall : Lo, Faith and Truth my sureties." "Why, then," quoth she, "come when I call: I ask no better warrantise." Thus am I Beauty's bounden thrall, At her command when she doth call. GEORGE GASCOIGNE. FLY AS A HART TO THE MOUNTAIN. | A foe that is fair and open WHEN a shadow is on your heart And know not the reason why, When the tear unbidden will start And unbidden will come the sigh, Watch, for there's cause for fear; When the hope in your life turns pale The shadow of sorrow is long; There's a feeling you know not whence, Fly to your covert, fly, And danger may pass you by; When the hounds are scenting the air. When the love that was strong turns weak- And hide you a little while. You may fight and keep your place, When When you fear and you know not why, THOMAS J. REID. THE HUNTED DEER. HE, rousing, rusheth out, and through the brakes doth drive As though up by the roots the bushes he would rive, And through the cumbrous thicks as fearfully he makes He with his branchèd head the tender saplings shakes, That sprinkling their moist pearl do seem for him to weep, When after goes the cry, with yellings loud and deep, That all the forest rings, and every neighboring place, And there is not a hound but falleth to the chase, Rechating with his horns, which then the hunter cheers, Whilst still the lusty stag his high-palmed head upbears, His body showing state, with unbent knees upright, Expressing from all beasts, his courage in his flight. But when, the approaching foes still following, he perceives That he his speed must trust, his usual walk he leaves, |