WHEN Chill November's surly blast

Made fields and forests bare,
One evening, as I wandered forth
Along the banks of Ayr,

I spied a man whose aged step
Seemed weary, worn with care;

His face was furrowed o'er with years,
And hoary was his hair.

But, oh! what crowds in every land,
All wretched and forlorn,
Through weary life this lesson learn-
That man was made to mourn!

Many and sharp the num'rous ills
Inwoven with our frame!

More pointed still we make ourselves
Regret, remorse, and shame.

brought:

In truth he was a noble steed,

A tartar of the Ukraine breed,

Who looked as though the speed of thought
Were in his limbs; but he was wild,
Wild as the wild deer, and untaught,
With spur and bridle undefiled-
"Twas but a day he had been caught:
And snorting with erected mane,
And struggling fiercely, but in vain,
In the full foam of wrath and dread,
To me the desert-born was led.
They bound me on, that menial throng,
Upon his back with many a thong;

They loosed him with a sudden lash-
Away! away! and on we dash!-
Torrents less rapid and less rash.

Away, away, my steed and I,

Upon the pinions of the wind, All human dwellings left behind: We sped like meteors through the sky, When with its crackling sound the night Is checkered with the northern light. Town-village-none were on our track, But a wild plain of far extent, And bounded by a forest black. The sky was dull, and dim, and gray, And a low breeze crept moaning by: I could have answered with a sigh; But fast we fled, away, away, And I could neither sigh nor pray; And my cold sweat-drops fell, like rain, Upon the courser's bristling mane.

We neared the wild-wood-'twas so wide,
I saw no bounds on either side;-
The boughs gave way, and did not tear
My limbs, and I found strength to bear
My wounds, already scarred with cold-
My bonds forbade to loose my hold.
We rustled through the leaves like wind-
Left shrubs, and trees, and wolves behind.

Their troop came hard upon our back,
With their long gallop, which can tire
The hound's deep hate, and hunter's fire:
Where'er we flew they followed on,
Nor left us with the morning sun.
Oh, how I wished for spear or sword,
At least to die amidst the horde,
And perish, if it must be so,

At bay, destroying many a foe!

My heart turned sick, my brain grew

sore,

And throbbed a while, then beat no

more:

The skies spun like a mighty wheel-
I saw the trees like drunkards reel;
And a slight flash sprung o'er my eyes,
Which saw no further: he who dies
Can die no more than then I died,
O'ertortured by that ghastly ride.

-

A trampling troop-I see them come!
In one vast squadron they advance!
The sight renerved my courser's feet,-
A moment staggering, feebly fleet,
A moment with a faint low neigh,
He answered, and then fell!
With gasps and glazing eyes he lay,
And reeking limbs immovable:

His first and last career is done!
On came the troop-they saw him stoop,
They saw me strangely bound along
His back with many a bloody thong;
They snort-they foam-neigh-swerve
aside,

And backward to the forest fly,
By instinct, from a human eye.

They left me there to my despair, Linked to the dead and stiffening wretch, Whose lifeless limbs beneath me stretch,

Relieved from that unwonted weight,
From which I could not extricate
Nor him nor me; and there we lay,
The dying on the dead.
BYRON.

THE glories of our birth and state
Are shadows, not substantial things;
There is no armour against fate-
Death lays his icy hand on kings.
Sceptre and crown
Must tumble down,

And in the dust be equal made
With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
All heads must come

To the cold tomb:

Only the actions of the just

Smell sweet, and blossom in the dust.

SHIRLEY.

HODGE held a farm, and smiled content
While one year paid another's rent;
But if he ran the least behind,
Vexation stung his anxious mind;
For not an hour would landlord stay,
But seized the very quarter-day.
How cheap soe'er or scant the grain,
Though urged with truth, was urged in vain.
The same to him, if false or true;

For rent must come when rent was due.
Yet that same landlord's cows and steeds
Broke Hodge's fence, and cropped his
meads.

In hunting, that same landlord's hounds—
See! how they spread his new-sown grounds!
Dog, horse, and man alike o'erjoyed,
While half the rising crop's destroyed;
Yet tamely was the loss sustained.
"Tis said the sufferer once complained:
The Squire laughed loudly while he spoke,
And paid the bumpkin-with a joke.

But luckless still poor Hodge's fate:
His worship's bull had forced a gate,
And gored his cow, the last and best;
By sickness he had lost the rest.
Hodge felt at heart resentment strong-
The heart will feel that suffers long.
A thought that instant took his head,
And thus within himself he said:

OFT has it been my lot to mark
A proud, conceited, talking spark,
With eyes that hardly served at most
To guard their master 'gainst a post;
Yet round the world the blade has been,
To see whatever could be seen.
Returning from his finished tour,
Grown ten times perter than before,
Whatever word you chance to drop,
The travelled fool your mouth will stop:
“Sir, if my judgment you'll allow-
I've seen-and sure I ought to know."-
So begs you'd pay a due submission,
And acquiesce in his decision.

Two travellers of such a cast,
As o'er Arabia's wilds they passed,
And on their way, in friendly chat,
Now talked of this, and then of that,
Discoursed a while, 'mongst other matter,
Of the chameleon's form and nature.

AN Eton stripling, training for the Law,
A Dunce at Syntax, but a Dab at Taw,
One happy Christmas, laid upon the shelf
His cap, his gown, and store of learned pelf,
With all the deathless bards of Greece and
Rome,

To spend a fortnight at his uncle's home. Arrived, and passed the usual "How-d'yedo's?"

Inquiries of old friends, and college news"Well, Tom, the road, what saw you worth discerning,

And how goes study, boy-what is't you're learning?"

"Oh! Logic, sir; but not the worn-out rules Of Locke and Bacon-antiquated fools! "Tis wit and wranglers' Logic; thus, d'ye see, I'll prove to you, as clear as A, B, C, That an eel-pie's a pigeon; to deny it Were to swear black's white." "Indeed!" "Let's try it.

An eel-pie is a pie of fish." "Well, agreed." "A fish-pie may be a Jack-pie." "Proceed." 'A Jack-pie must be a John-pie-thus,

'tis done,

For every John-pie is a pi-ge-on!" "Bravo!" Sir Peter cries, "Logic for ever! It beats my grandmother-and she was clever!

But zounds! my boy, it surely would go hard [ward! That wit and learning should have no reTo-morrow, for a stroll, the park we'll cross, And then I'll give you "—"What?"— "My chesnut-horse."

And can produce it."- "Pray, sir, do; I'll lay my life the thing is blue."

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And I'll be sworn, that when you've seen The reptile, you'll pronounce him green." Well then, at once to ease the doubt," Replies the man, "I'll turn him out: And when before your eyes I've set him, If you don't find him black, I'll eat him." He said; then full before their sight Produced the beast, and lo!-'twas WHITE! Both stared; the man looked wondrous wise. 'My children," the chameleon cries,— Then first the creature found a tongue-"You all are right, and all are wrong: When next you talk of what you view, Think others see as well as you; Nor wonder, if you find that none Prefers your eye-sight to his own." MERRICK.

Of leaping five-barred gates and crossing
Left his warm bed an hour before the lark,
Dragged his old uncle fasting through the
park.

Each craggy hill and dale in vain they cross,
To find out something like a chesnut-horse;
But no such animal the meadows cropped.
At length, beneath a tree Sir Peter stopped;
Took a bough, shook it, and down fell
A fine horse-chesnut in its prickly shell.
"There, Tom, take that." "Well, sir, and
[ride."

what beside?"

"Why, since you're booted, saddle it, and 'Ride what?-a chesnut!" "Ay; come get across.

I tell you, Tom, the chesnut is a horse,
And all the horse you'll get! for I can show,
As clear as sunshine, that 'tis really so;
Not by the musty, fusty, worn-out rules
Of Locke and Bacon-addle-headed fools!
All Logic but the wranglers' I disown,
And stick to one sound argument-your

own.

Since you have proved to me, I don't deny, That a pie-John is the same as a John-pie; What follows then, but, as a thing of course, That a horse-chesnut is a chesnut-horse!"

ANON.

Alike the Armada's pride, or spoils of Trafalgar.

Thy shores are empires, changed in all save thee.

Assyria, Greece, Rome, Carthage, what are they?

Thy waters wasted them while they were free,

And many a tyrant since; their shores obey

The stranger, slave, or savage; their decay

Has dried up realms to deserts :-not so thou,

Unchangeable save to thy wild waves' play

Time writes no wrinkle on thy azure brow

groan, Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffined,

and unknown.

His steps are not upon thy paths,-thy fields

Are not a spoil for him,--thou dost arise And shake him from thee; the vile strength he wields

For earth's destruction, thou dost all despise,

Spurning him from thy bosom to the skies,

And send'st him, shiv'ring, in thy play

ful spray,

And howling, to his gods, where haply lies

His petty hope in some near port or bay, And dashest him again to earth; there let him lay.

The armaments which thunder-strike the walls

Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake,

And monarchs tremble in their capitals; The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make

Their clay creator the vain title take

now.

Thou glorious mirror, where th' Almighty's form

Glasses itself in tempests; in all time, Calm or convulsed-in breeze, or gale, or storm,

Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime Dark-heaving, boundless, endless, and sublime

The image of eternity-the throne
Of th' Invisible; even from out thy slime
The monsters of the deep are made;
each zone

Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone.

And I have loved thee, Ocean! and my joy Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be Borne, like thy bubbles, onward: from

a boy

I wantoned with thy breakers-they to

me

Were a delight; and if the fresh'ning sea Made them a terror, 'twas a pleasing fear, For I was as it were a child of thee, And trusted to thy billows far and near, And laid my hand upon thy mane-as I do here.

BYRON.