They say it was a shocking sight
After the field was won,

For many a thousand bodies there
Lay rotting in the sun;

But things like that, you know must be

After a famous victory.

"Great praise the Duke of Marlboro' won,

And our good Prince Eugene."

No

The ship was as still as she could be, Her sails from heaven received no motion, Her keel was steady in the ocean.

Without either sign or sound of their shock
The waves flow'd over the Inchcape Rock;
So little they rose, so little they fell,
They did not move the Inchcape Bell.

The good old Abbot of Aberbrothok

Had placed that bell on the Inchcape Rock;
On a buoy in the storm it floated and swung,
And over the waves its warning rung.

When the Rock was hid by the surges' swell,
The Mariners heard the warning bell;
And then they knew the perilous Rock,
And blest the Abbot of Aberbrothok.

The sun in heaven was shining gay,

All things were joyful on that day;

The sea-birds scream'd as they wheel'd round, And there was joyance in their sound.

The buoy of the Inchcape Bell was seen
A darker speck on the ocean green;
Sir Ralph the Rover walk'd his deck,
And he fix'd his eye on the darker speck.
He felt the cheering power of spring,
It made him whistle, it made him sing;
His heart was mirthful to excess,
But the Rover's mirth was wickedness.

His eye was on the Inchcape float;
Quoth he, "My men, put out the boat,
And row me to the Inchcape Rock,
And I'll plague the priest of Aberbrothok.”
The boat is lower'd, the boatmen row,
And to the Inchcape Rock they go;
Sir Ralph bent over from the boat,
And he cut the bell from the Inchcape float.

Down sunk the bell, with a gurgling sound,

The bubbles rose and burst around;

Quoth Sir Ralph, "The next who comes to the Rock Won't bless the Abbot of Aberbrothok."

Sir Ralph the Rover sail'd away,

He scour'd the seas for many a day;

And now grown rich with plunder'd store,

He steers his course for Scotland's shore.

So thick a haze o'erspreads the sky
They cannot see the sun on high;
The wind hath blown a gale all day,
At evening it hath died away.

On the deck the Rover takes his stand,
So dark it is they see no land.
Quoth Sir Ralph, "It will be lighter soon,
For there is the dawn of the rising moon."

"Can'st hear," said one, "the breakers roar?
For methinks we should be near the shore;
Now where we are I cannot tell,

But I wish I could hear the Inchcape Bell.”

They hear no sound, the swell is strong;
Though the wind hath fallen, they drift along,
Till the vessel strikes with a shivering shock:
Cried they, "It is the Inchcape Rock'!'

Sir Ralph the Rover tore his hair,
He curst himself in his despair;
The waves rush in on every side,
The ship is sinking beneath the tide.

But even in his dying fear

One dreadful sound could the Rover hear,
A sound as if with the Inchcape Bell,
The fiends below were ringing his knell.

66

“γου

COMFORT IN AGE.

OU are old, Father William," the young man cried,
"The few locks which are left you are grey;

You are hale, Father William, a hearty old man,
Now tell me the reason, I pray."

"In the days of my youth," Father William replied,
"I remember'd that youth would fly fast,

And abused not my health and my vigour at first,
That I never might need them at last."

"You are old, Father William," the young man cried, "And pleasures with youth pass away;

And yet you lament not the days that are gone,
Now tell me the reason, I pray."

"In the days of my youth," Father William replied,

I remember'd that youth could not last;

I thought of the future whatever I did,

That I never might grieve for the past."

"You are old, Father William," the young man cried, "And life must be hastening away;

You are cheerful, and love to converse upon death,
Now tell me the reason, I pray."

"I am cheerful, young man," Father William replied,
"Let the cause thy attention engage;

In the days of my youth I remember'd my God,
And He hath not forgotten my age."

HOHENLINDEN.

BY THOMAS CAMPBELL.-1777-1844.

[THOMAS CAMPBELL, the son of a merchant in Glasgow, was born on the 27th of July, 1777. He was the youngest of ten children, and was educated with great care. At the age of thirteen he was placed in the University of Glasgow, where he gained many honours. In April, 1799, at the early age of twenty-one, he published his "Pleasures of Hope,” which passed through four editions in the course of a twelvemonth. After its publication he went to the Continent, and, from the monastery of St. Jacob, was a spectator of the Battle of Hohenlinden. His immortal stanzas on that conflict form one of the grandest battle-pieces that ever were written. In 1809 he published his "Gertrude of Wyoming,"- —an affecting tale of an Indian incursion on a Pennsylvanian village during the American War. For many years Campbell was editor of the "New Monthly Magazine." In 1827 he was elected Rector of the University of his native city,-an honour which was conferred upon him in the two following years. His lyrical productions are among the noblest in the English language. He died in 1844, at Boulogne, whither he had gone for the benefit of his health. He was buried in Westminster Abbey.]

N Linden, when the sun was low,

ON

All bloodless lay the untrodden snow;
And dark as winter was the flow

Of Iser, rolling rapidly.

But Linden saw another sight,
When the drum beat at dead of night,
Commanding fires of death to light
The darkness of her scenery.

By torch and trumpet fast arrayed,
Each horseman drew his battle-blade,
And furious every charger neighed

To join the dreadful revelry.