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That, underneath the unrespective sod,

In unescutch oned privacy, my bones

Shall crumble soon-then give me strength to bear
The last convulsive throe of too sweet breath!

I tremble from the edge of life to dare
The dark and fatal leap, having no faith,
No glorious yearning for the Apocalypse;
But like a child that in the night-time cries
For light, I cry forgetting the ec ipse
Of knowledge and our human destinies.
O peevish and uncertain soul! obey
The law of life in patience till the day.

All Fair Things at their Death the Faires
Why are all fair things at their death the fairest 1
Beauty, the beautifullest in decay?

Why doth rich sunset clothe each closing day
With ever new apparelling the rarest ?
Why are the sweetest melodies all born

Of pain and sorrow? Mourneth not the dove,
In the green forest gloom, an absent love?
Leaning her breast against that cruel thorn,
Doth not the nightingale, poor bird, complain
And integrate her uncontrollable woe
To such perfection, that to hear is pain?
Thus Sorrow and Death-alone realities-
Sweeten their ministration, and bestow
On troublous life a relish of the skies!


Now, while the long-delaying ash assumes
The delicate April green, and loud, and clear,
Through the cool, yellow, twilight glooms,
The thrush's song enchants the captive ear;
Now, while a shower is pleasant in the falling,
Stirring the still perfume that wakes around;
Now that doves mourn, and from the distance calling,
The cuckoo answers with a sovereign sound-

Come with thy native heart, O true and tried!
But leave all books; for what with converse high,
Flavoured with Attic wit, the time shall glide

On smoothly, as a river floweth by,

Or as on stately pinion, through the gray
Evening, the culver cuts his líquid way


Two other poets sprung from the people, and honourably dis tinguished for self-cultivation, merit notice. THOMAS ROG was born in Nottingham in 1808. In 1833 he issued his first publication, "The Incarnation, and other Poems,' being at that time engaged in a lace factory. The Incarnation' was part of a philosophical poem on 'The Deity,' and was published for the purpose of ascertaining whether means could be obtained for the publication of the whole. In consequence of the favourable critical notices, two gentlemen in the West of England-whose names deserve to be recorded-Mr. Mann of Andover, and Mr. Wyatt of Stroud, offered to become responsible for the expenses of bringing out The Deity,' and the

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then venerable James Montgomery undertook to revise the manuscript. It was published in 1834 with considerable success. In 1835 he produced The Martyr of Verulam, and other Poems;' in 1837, Lyrics from the Pentateuch;' in 1840, Heber and other Poems;' in 1847, 'Scenes and Sketches;' in 1855, 'Creation's Testimony to its Author;' and in 1858, Man's Dreams and God's Realities.' The poet had been successively newspaper reporter and bookseller; but in 1858 Dr. Murray, Bishop of Rochester, offered him ordination in the church, and he is now vicar of Lawley, near Wellington, Salop.

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The Earth full of Lore.-From 'Heber.'

The earth is full of love, albeit the storms
Of passion mar its influence benign,
And drown its voice with discords. Every flower
That to the sun its heaving breast expands
Is born of love. And every song of bird
That floats, mellifluent, on the balmy air,
Is but a love-note. Heaven is full of love;
Its starry eyes run o'er with tenderness
And soften every heart that meets their gaze,
As downward looking on this wayward world
They light it back to God. But neither stars,

Nor flowers, nor song of birds. nor earth, nor heaven,
So tell the wonders of that glorious name,

As they shall be revealed. when comes the honr
Of nature's consummation, hoped-for long,
When, passed the checkered vestibule of time,
The creature in immortal youth shall boom,
And good, unmixed with ill, for ever reign.

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THOMAS COOPER, the Chartist,' while confined in Stafford jail, 1842-44, wrote a poem in the Spenserian stanza, entitled 'The Purgatory of Suicides,' which evinces poetical power and fancy, and has gone through several editions. This work was published in 1845; and the same year Mr. Cooper issued a series of prose tales and sketches, Wise Saws and Modern Instances.' In the following year he published The Baron's Yule Feast, a Christmas Rhyme.' Though addressed, like the Corn-law Rhymes' of Elliott, to the workingclasses, and tinged with some jaundiced and gloomy views of society, there is true poetry in Mr. Cooper's rhymes. The following is a scrap of landscape-painting—a Christmas scene:

How joyonsly the lady bells

Shout, though the bluff north breeze
Loudly his boisterous bugle swells!
And though the brooklets freeze,
How fair the leafless hawthorn tree
Waves with its hoar-frost tracery!
While sun-suiles throw o'er stalks and

Sparkles so far transcending gems,

The bard would gloze who said their sheen

Did not out-diamond

All brightest gands that man hath seen,
Worn by earth's proudest king or queen,
In pomp and grandeur throned!

In 1848 Mr. Cooper became a political and historical lecturer, set up cheap political journals, which soon died, and wrote two novels, 'Alderman Ralph,' 1853, and The Family Feud,' 1854. He was tinged with infidel opinions, but these he renounced, and commenced

a course of Sunday evening lectures and discussions in support of Christianity. He has also written an account of his Lite," which has reached a third edition.


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A series of poetical works, termed Young England' or 'Tractarian Poetry' appeared in 1840 and 1841. 'England's Trust, and other Poems,' by LORD JOHN MANNERS; Historic Fancies,' by the HON. MR. SMYTHE (afterwards Lord Strangford); The Cherwell Water Lily,' &c., by the REV. F. W. FABER. The chief object of these works was to revive the taste for feudal feeling and ancient sports, combined with certain theological and political opinions characteristic of a past age. The works had poetical and amiable. feeling, but were youthful, immature productions; and Lord John Manners must have regretted the couplet which we here print in Italics, and which occasioned no small ridicule:

No; by the names inscribed in History's page,
Naines that are England's nob est heritage;
Names that shall live for yet unnumbered years
Shrined in our hearts with Cressy and Poictiers;
Let wealth and commerce, lavs and learning die,
But leave us stiu our od nobility.

Lord John has since applied himself to politics. He held office in the Conservative administrations from 1852 to 1867, and again in Mr. Disraeli's administration of 1874, being appointed Postmaster-general. His lordship is author also of Notes of an Irish Tour,' 1840; English Ballads and other Poems,' 1850; A Cruise in Scotch Waters;' and several pamphlets on religious and political questions.

Lord Strangford (the seventh viscount) also took a part in public affairs, and promised to become an able debater, but ill health withdrew him from both politics and literature. He died in 1857, at the age of forty.


Among the authors of the day, uniting political sympathies and aspirations with lyrical poetry, is DR. CHARLES MACKAY. Some of his songs are familiar as household words both in this country and in America, and his influence as an apostle or minstrel of social reform and the domestic affections must have been considerable. Dr. Mackay commenced his literary career in 1834, in his twentieth year, by the publication of a small volume of poems. Shortly afterwards he became connected with the 'Morning Chronicle' daily journal, and continued in this laborious service for nine years. In 1840, he published The Hope of the World,' a poem in verse of the style of Pope and Goldsmith. In 1842 appeared 'The Salamandrine,' a poetical romance founded on the Rosicrucian system, which supplied Pope with the inimitable aerial personages of his Rape of the Lock.' 'The Salamandrine' is the most finished of Dr. Mackay's

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works, and has passed through several editions. From 1844 to 1847, our author conducted a Scottish newspaper, the Glasgow Argus;' and while resident in the north, he received the honorary distinction of LL. D. from the university of Glasgow.

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Returning to London, he resumed his connection with the metropolitan press, and was for several years editor of the Illustrated London News,' in the columns of which many of his poetical pieces first appeared. His collected works, in addition to those already enumerated, consist of Legends of the Isles,' 1845; Voices from the Crowd,' 1846; 'Voices from the Mountains,' 1847; Town Lyrics,' 1848; 'Egeria, or the Spirit of Nature,' 180; The Lump of Gold,' &c., 1856; Songs for Music,' 1857; Under Green Leaves,' 1858; A Man's Heart,' 1860; Studies from the Antique,' 1864, &c. Some prose works have also proceeded from the pen of Dr. Mackay-The Thames and its Tributaries,' two volumes, 1840; Memoirs of Extraordinary Popular I elusions,' two volumes, 1852, &c. In 1852, Dr. Mackay made a tour in America, and delivered a course of lectures on Poetry, which he has repeated in this country. His transatlantic impressions he has embodied in two volumes of lively description, bearing the title of 'Life and Liberty in America.' The poet, we may add, is a native of Perth, born in 1814, while his father, an officer in the army, was on recruiting service. He was in infancy removed to London, and five years of his youth were spent in Belgium.

Apologue from 'Egeria.'

In ancient time, two acorns, in their cups,
Shaken by winds and ripeness from the tree,
Dropped side by side into the ferns and grass.
'Where have I fallen? to what base region come?
Exclaimed the one, 'The joyous breeze no more
Rocks me to slumber on the sheltering bough;
The sunlight streams no longer on my face;
I look no more from altitudes serene

Upon the world reposing far below;

Its plains, its hills, its rivers, and its woods.
To me the nightingale sings hymns no more;
But I am made companion of the worm,
And rot on the chill earth. Around me grow
Nothing but useless weeds, and grass, and fern,
Unfit to hold companionship with me.

Ah me! most wretched! rain. and frost, and dew,
And all the pangs and penalties of earth,

Corrupt me where I lie-degenerate.'

And thus the acorn made its daily moan.

The other raised no murmur of complaint,

And looked on with no contempt upon the grass,

Nor called the branching fern a worthless weed,

Nor scorned the woodland flowers that round it blew.
All silently and piously it lay

Upon the kindly bosom of the earth.

It blessed the warmth with which the noonday sun
Made fruitful all the ground; it loved the dews,
The moonlight and the snow, the frost and rain,
And all the change of seasons as they passed.

It sank into the bosom of the soil:

The bursting life, inclosed within its husk,
Broke through its fetters; it extended roots,
And twined them freely in the grateful ground;
It sprouted up, and looked upon the light;
The sunshine fed it; the embracing air
Endowed it with vitality and strength;
The rains of heaven supplied it nourishment,
And so from month to month, and year to year,
It grew in beauty and in usefulness,

Until its large circumference inclosed
Shelter for flocks and herds; until its boughs
Afforded homes for happy multitudes,
The dormouse, and the chaffiuch, and the jay,
And countless myriads of minuter life;
Until its bole, too vast for the embrace
Of human arms, stood in the forest depths,
The model and the glory of the wood.
Its sister-acorn perished in its pride.
Love New and Old.

And were they not the happy days
When Love and I were young,
When earth was robed in heavenly light,
And all creation sung?

When gazing in my true love's face,
Through greenwood alleys lone,
I guessed the secrets of her heart,
By whispers of mine own.

And are they not the happy days
When Love and I are old,
And silver evening has replaced
A morn and noon of gold?
Love stood alone mid youthful joy,
But now by sorrow tried,
It sits and calmly looks to heaven
With angels at its side.

Song-Tubal Cain.

Old Tubal Cain was a man of might
In the days when Earth was young;

By the fierce red light of his furnace bright
The strokes of his hammer rung;

And he lifted high his brawny hand

On the iron glowing clear,

Till the sparks rushed out in scarlet showers,
As he fashioned the sword and spear.

And he sang: Hurra for my handiwork!

Hurra for the spear and sword!

Hurra for the hand that shall wield them well,
For he shall be king and lord !'

To Tubal Cain came many a one,

As he wrought by his roaring fire,

And each one prayed for a strong steel blade

As the crown of his desire:

And he made them weapons sharp and strong,
Till they shouted loud för glee,

And gave him gifts of pearl and gold,

And spoils of the forest free.

And they sang: Hurrah for Tubal Cain,

Who has given us strength anew!

Hurrah for the smith, hurra for the fire,

And hurrah for the metal true!'

But a sudden change caine o'er his heart
Ere the setting of the sun.

And Tubal Cain was filled with pain

For the evil he had done;

He saw that men, with rage and hate,

Made war upon their kind.

That the land was red with the blood they shed,

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