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And the clear ripple curls to break, Soft as a tress on Beauty's cheek,Or whether the roused billows roll
Before the blast their foam and spray, And seem to course into the bay, Following, like racers to the goal ;
There, be it sun-shine, be it storm,
When the wild waters have receded,
And you may trace her fragile hand,
And seems to shed, like one heart-broken, Tears, salter than the ocean-brine.
She brings each earliest bud, that hastes,
And the hoar winter hath crawl'd forth
Where most the bruising foot hath trod,
And thy impress is seen alone,
(As flowers, entomb'd by earthquake shock, Will leave faint limnings in the rock,) On hearts that fate hath chill'd to stone.
Ask, why she comes-and comes to weep,-
And he shall, haply, make reply
Thus with his head shook, or his eye
He is a scared, though kindly slave,
And hath but listen'd from some screen, Some nook-those woes which she would have Unheard at least, if not unseen.
As years, with sullen flow, creep by,
When the wild billow meets the rock
"They scoop'd his grave the ocean-brim,
But yet, methinks, he'll better rest
Where every day some armed heel,
That help'd to thrust down England's weal,
"Yes-even the hireling priests are gone
And leave their loyal love-to her,
To see his tomb-and wait their leave-
"It was an hour of agony
E'en now I feel that mortal sick’ning,
And when they let me kiss them there,
"They say, the day-the hour he perish'd,
He would not grace the victor's gate,
But when the autumn leaves were strewn,
So hard it is to pine-alone.
"But summer leaves are still the greenest,
And turn them where the beam falls strongest ;
Yet there's a charm in a true grief
For one beloved-a wild relief
In constant, though in hopeless sorrow;
Shall snatch these chaplets from his grave,
The milk-white cups, that arch to the sky,
That could be lofty, and still be kind.
"And, as the wreath must soon decay,
And the waves sweep o'er it, where 'tis lying,
And their hour of blow be mine of dying.
I ask no more, but calm to rest,
On the grave of him that I loved best,
To share his tomb so wild and lonely,
By foes and friends at once forgot,
And the wave and moon-beam visit only."
THE MOUNT OF OLIVES.
"And when they had sung a hymn, they went out into the Mount of Olives."
Now is the Father glorified,
A little while, and ye no more shall see,
When he is lifted high !
Rejoice ye lands! Shiloh is come,
MATT. xxvi. 30.
When Moses stood before the Lord
Thesky was rent, the mountains reel'd,
The wonders of the second day-
Emanuel in all his power; And cherubim shall hail their king Enthroned in Salem's tower!
Go on your way in peace,
Your lord and master gone.
Yea from the fix'd foundation-stone,
The seat the Father call'd his own—
And dark and long the night shall be,
Thy sons and thee!
Then shall be signs ne'er seen before,
And claps his wings in joy to hear The groan that tells him death is near; Then shalt thou darkness dread-but more the coming light!
Oh, who shall pray to God! Oh woe!
And weep and pray-Oh no! Oh no!
Thou shalt not tempt thy God again;
As thou received thy Lord-so be thy fate
What glorious vision meets our eyes,
God is himself their holy shrine,
The Lamb their temple fair!
His be the conqueror's meed, for Death
Or, The Voyages and Travels of Thomas Duffle, Cloth-merchant in the
WHEN I had abundantly satisfied my curiosity with the curious things of London, I was admonished by my purse, which had suffered a sore bowel complaint from the time of my arrival, that it behoved me to think of taking it to grass and replenishment in the Salt-market. Accordingly after settling counts with Mrs Damask, I got a hackney to carry my portmanty to the wharf, where I embarked on board the Mountaineer steam-boat, bound, God willing, to the Port of Leith.
I had not been long on board when, lo! and behold who should I see, flourishing his cane, but that nice, good-tempered, fat man, whose genius and talents in the abstruse art of song writing make such a figure in Blackwood's Magazine.
Hey, Doctor!" quo I at length; "Hegh, sirs, but a sight of you here is gude for sair een-whar d'ye come frae ?"
The Doctor, who is a pawkie loon, as is well kent, said nothing at first, but looking as it were down at me with an inquisitive and jealousing ee, cried out, in his funny way, "Whar did that creature speak frae? Lord sake, Tammy Duffle, how came ye here? What's ta'en you a gallanting out o' the Salt-Market? I thought the Gallowgate would hae been the farthest o' your tramps. But ye hae nae doubt been up wi' a cargo o' your loyalty to the Coronation. Lord sake, man, but I'm glad to see you: I have nae had the visibility o' a Christian face since the Heavens kens when, Tammy."
In this way the Odontist for a space o' time continued his mirthful devices till the vessel was put under way by the steam being set on, when we had soine solid conversation thegether-in the first place anent the news from Glasgow, of which the Doctor was in great want, by reason of his long absence; and in the second, concerning the Doctor's experience, and observes on the kingdom of France, and the city of Paris, appertaining thereto. But as it is his full intention to give the world some narration of his travels, it would be a breach of confidence to rehearse herein what he told to me.
While we were thus holding a jocose conversation, a gentleman that had the look of a divine joined in with us, and he being taken with the Doctor's funny sayings, began to ettle at something of the sort himself; and upon his suggestion the Doctor, and him, and me, retired to a corner by ourselves, where the Odontist called on the steward to bring us a bottle of the port out of his basket of sea-stores; for the Doctor, being a man of a jolly as well as a jocose humour, had laid in a plentiful extra supply of divers sorts of good wines. This stranger turned out to be no other than the Rev. Mr Birkwhistle, the Minister of Dintonknow. He is an elderly man, of a composed appearance, with something, however, of a peeryweery twinkling about the een, which be trayed that he knew more than he let on. He had been at London on some gospel affair anent the call of a minister; but whether he had been on the leet, and wasna successful, or merely as a visitant-ablins to spy the nakedness of the land, I'll no take it upon me to say; but he had a fouth of queer stories, which it was a curiosity to hear of, in the manner that he discoursed of the same. Among others, he told us of a very surprising thing that befell himself.
THE WIG AND THE BLACK CAT.
TALE, NO. XIII.
"By an agreement with the session," said Mr Birkwhistle, "I was invited to preach the action sermon at Kilmartin, and my new wig coming home from Glasgow by the Saltcoats carrier on the Thursday afore, I took it unopened on the Saturday evening in the box to the Manse, where I was to bide during the preachings with the widow. It happened, however, that in going in the stage-fly from my own parish to Kilmartin, a dreadful shower came on, and the box with my new wig thereintil, being on the outside tap of the coach, the wind flew and the rain fell, and by the help and colleagury of the twa, the seams of the box were invaded, and the wig, when I took it out on the Saturday night, was just a
clash o' weet.
"At that time o' night, there wasna a barber to be had for love or money within three miles o' the Manse; in deed I dinna think, for that matter, there was a creature o' the sort within
the bounds and jurisdictions of the parish; so that I could make no bet ter o't than to borrow the dredge-box out of the kitchen, and dress the wig with my own hands.
Although Mr Keckle had been bu ried but the week before, the mistress, as a' minister's wives of the right gospel and evangelical kind should be, was in a wholesome state of composi ty, and seeing what I was ettling at, said to me, the minister had a block head whereon he was wont to dress and fribble his wig, and that although it was a sair heart to her to see ony other man's wig upon the same, I was welcome to use my freedoms there with. Accordingly, the blockhead, on the end of a stick, like the shank of a carpet-besom, was brought intil the room; and the same being stuck into the finger-hole of a buffet-stool, I set myself to dress and fribble with my new wig, and Mrs Keckle the while sat beside me, and we had some very