THE CLIFFS OF DOVER.

When thus the land descried was recognised.
On bended knees, and folded hands to heaven
Upraised, to God he fervent thanks addressed
For this especial grace. To God alone

281

These thanks were due: for He not only safe
Had guided him, through perils infinite,
To the fair realms of day,-which to explore
Such toils he had endured, but, like a man
Waked from a horrid dream, himself he saw
Late rescued from impending death, prepared
By furious winds for him, beneath the waves.
T. M. Musgrave.
CAMOENS.

.

THE CLIFFS OF DOVER.

"The inviolate island of the sage and free."-(BYRON.)

Rocks of my country! let the cloud
Your crested heights array,

And rise ye, like a fortress proud,
Above the surge and spray!

My spirit greets you as ye stand,
Breasting the billow's foam;

O thus for ever guard the land,
The severed land of home!

I have left rich blue skies behind,
Lighting up classic shrines,

And music in the southern wind,
And sunshine on the vines.

The breathings of the myrtle flowers,
Have floated o'er my way;
The pilgrim's voice, at vesper-hours,
Hath soothed me with its lay:

The isles of Greece, the hills of Spain,
The purple heavens of Rome,-
Yes, all are glorious—yet again,
I bless thee, Land of Home!

For thine the Sabbath peace, my land!
And thine the guarded hearth;
And thine the dead, the noble band,
That make thee holy earth.

Their voices meet me in thy breeze,
Their steps are on thy plains;
Their names, by old majestic trees
Are whispered round thy fanes.

Their blood hath mingled with the tide
Of thine exulting sea;

O! be it still a joy, a pride,

To live and die for thee!

MRS HEMANS.

ON APPROACHING THE "OLD MAN OF WICK." 283

ON APPROACHING THE "OLD MAN OF WICK."

[An old Tower in the neighbourhood of Wick is so called by sailors.]

OLD Man of Wick, I bid thee hail!

As courteous dips our homeward prow— What! compliments of no avail,

Man of the darkly-frowning brow!

Wilt thou not tell who placed thee there—
The Oliphant or Catti race;

Nor wilt thou, complaisant, declare,

How

many years have scarred thy face?

Nor if thou count'st each dark-brown sail,
And white-winged bark, that near thee glide,
Or mark'st amazed yon smoky trail

Come plunging on, 'gainst wind and tide?

Nor if thou listen'st to the sound

Of ocean in his deep-toned caves,

Or cry of sea-bird wheeling round,

Or skimming o'er the foam-tipped waves?

Though silent, yet thou canst not hide

The truths thy very silence tells,

Loud as the voice on either side,

Where ocean frets and foams and swells.

To keep the entrance of that rock,

With sea-beat ramparts guarded round, Thou took'st thy station when the shock Of warfare shook my native ground.

Thy massy walls—where not a ray

Of cheering light through window poursTell of the time when bloody fray

Bade weakness trust in murky towers:

Tell of a time when music's flow,
In bridal bower or birth-day hall,
Had often changed from mirth to woe,
From joyous dance to vengeful call:

Tell of a time when from thy steep

The mournful bier had wound its way, And kindred scarce had ceased to weep When summoned to the sudden fray :

Enough-my heart can bear no more,

But sickens as those scenes increase;
And gladly turns from fields of gore,
To praise the Lord of love and peace.

Hail, pure Religion! let our heart
Thy spirit feel thy virtue own;

Let industry and peaceful art

:

Our home with love and plenty crown!

THE CASTLE BY THE SEA.

I turn from thee, Old Man of Wick—
Unsorrowed crumble thou to nought;
And may our children never seek
The aid from thee our fathers sought.

285

J. LONGMUIR.

THE CASTLE BY THE SEA.

"HAST thou seen that lordly castle,

That castle by the sea? Golden and red above it

The clouds float gorgeously.

"And fain it would stoop downward To the mirrored wave below;

And fain it would soar upward

In the evening's crimson glow."

"Well have I seen that castle,
That castle by the sea,

And the moon above it standing,
And the mist rise solemnly."

"The winds and the waves of ocean, Had they a merry chime?

Didst thou hear from those lofty chambers,

The harp and the minstrel's rhyme?"