Arouse thee, Soul!

O! there is much to do

For thee if thou wouldst work for human kindThe misty Future through,

A greatness looms-'tis mind, awakened mind!
Arouse thee, Soul !

Arouse thee, Soul!

Shake off thy sluggishness,

As shakes the lark the dew-drop from its wing;
Make but one error less,—

One truth-thine offering to mind's altar bring!
Arouse thee, Soul!

Arouse thee, Soul!

Be what thou surely art,

An emanation from the Deity,

A flutter of that heart,

Which fills all nature, sea and earth and sky.
Arouse thee, Soul!

Arouse thee, Soul!

And let the body do

Some worthy deed for human happiness To join, when life is through;

Unto thy name, that angels both may bless!
Arouse thee, Soul!

Arouse thee, Soul!

Leave nothings of the earth ;

And if the body be not strong, to dare To blessed thoughts give birth,

High as yon Heaven, pure as Heaven's air,
Arouse thee, Soul!

Arouse thee, Soul!

Cr sleep for evermore,

And be what all nonentities have been-
Crawl on till life is o'er :

If to be ought but this thou e'er dost mean,
Arouse thee, Soul!

NICOLL

POEMS OF THE SEA AND THE SAILOR.

I. NAPOLEON AND THE YOUNG ENGLISH SAILOR.

"THE history of Napoleon, shows a spirit of self-exaggeration, unrivalled in enlightened ages, and which reminds us of an Oriental king to whom incense had been burnt from his birth as to a deity. This was the chief source of his crimes. He wanted the sentiment of a common nature with his fellow-beings. He had no sympathies with his race. That feeling of brotherhood, which is developed in truly great souls with peculiar energy, and through which they give up themselves willing victims, joyful sacrifices, to the interests of mankind, was wholly unknown to him. His heart, amidst its wild beatings, never had a throb of disinterested love. The ties which bind man to man he broke asunder. The proper happiness of a man, which consists in the victory of moral energy and social affection over the selfish passions, he cast away for the lonely joy of a despot. With powers, which might have made him a glorious representative and minister of the beneficent Divinity, and with natural sensibilities which might have been exalted into sublime virtues, he chose to separate himself from his kind, to forego their love, esteem, and gratitude, that he might become their gaze, their fear, their wonder; and for this selfish solitary good, parted with peace and imperishable renown."- Channing.

I LOVE Contemplating-apart
From all his homicidal glory-
The traits that soften to our heart
Napoleon's story.

"Twas when his banners at Boulogne,
Armed in our island every freeman,
His navy chanced to capture one
Poor British seaman.

They suffered him, I know not how,
Unprisoned on the shore to roam;
And aye was bent his youthful brow
On England's home.

L

His eye, methinks, pursued the flight
Of birds to Britain, half way over,
With envy-they could reach the white
Dear cliffs of Dover.

A stormy midnight watch, he thought,
Than this sojourn would have been dearer,
If but the storm his vessel brought

To England nearer.

At last, when care had banished sleep,
He saw one morning, dreaming, doating,
An empty hogshead from the deep
Come shoreward floating.

He hid it in a cave, and wrought
The live long day, laborious, lurking,
Until he launched a tiny boat,
By mighty working.

Oh dear me! 'twas a thing beyond
Description!-such a wretched wherry,
Perhaps, ne'er ventured on a pond,
Or crossed a ferry.

For ploughing in the salt sea field,
It would have made the boldest shudder;
Untarred, uncompassed, and unkeeled,—
No sail-no rudder.

From neighbouring woods he interlaced
His sorry skiff with wattled willows;
And thus equipped he would have passed
The foaming billows.

A French guard caught him on the beach,
His little Argo sorely jeering.

Till tidings of him chanced to reach
Napoleon's hearing.

With folded arms Napoleon stood,
Serene alike in peace and danger,
And, in his wonted attitude,
Addressed the stranger.

"Rash youth, that wouldst yon channel pass
On twigs and staves so rudely fashioned,
Thy heart with some sweet English lass
Must be impassioned."

II. THE SAILOR-BOY'S GOSSIP.

"Ir man could have been made to know that his existence depended upon certain acquisitions of knowledge, without any love of the knowledge itself, he might, perhaps, have made the acquisition that was believed to be so important. But to learn, if there had been no curiosity or pleasure in learning, would then have been a task; and like other mere tasks would probably have been imperfectly executed. Something would have been neglected altogether, or very inaccurately examined, the accurate knowledge of which might have been essential to life itself. Nature, by the constitution which she has given us, has attained the same end, and attained it without leaving to us the possibility of failure. She has given us the desire of knowing what it is of importance for us to know; she has made the knowledge delightful in itself; she has made it painful to us to know imperfectly. There is no task, therefore, imposed on us. In executing her benevolent will, we have only to gratify one of the strongest of our passions, to learn with delight what it is salutary to have learned, and to derive thus a sort of double happiness from the wisdom which we acquire, and from the very effort by which we acquire it. '—Brown's Philosophy.

You say, dear Mamma, it is good to be talking

With those who will kindly endeavour to teach,
And I think I have learnt something while I was walking
Along with the sailor-boy down on the beach.

He told me of lands where he soon will be going,

Where humming-birds scarcely are bigger than bees, Where the mace and the nutmeg together are growing, And cinnamon formeth the bark of the trees.

He told me that islands far out in the ocean

Are mountains of coral that insects have made, And I freely confess I had hardly a notion

That insects could work in the way that he said.

He spoke of wide deserts where the sand-clouds are flying, No shade for the brow, and no grass for the feet; Where camels and travellers often lie dying,

Gasping for water and scorching with heat.

He told me of places away in the East,

Where topaz, and ruby, and sapphire are found; Where you never are safe from the snake and the beast, For the serpent, and tiger, and jackal abound.

He declared he had gazed on a very high mountain,
Spurting out volumes of sulphur and smoke,
That burns day and night like a fiery fountain,
Pouring forth ashes that blacken and choke.

I thought our own Thames was a very great stream,
With its water so fresh and its currents so strong;
But how tiny our largest of rivers must seem

To those he has sailed on, three thousand miles long!

He spoke, dear Mamma, of so many strange places,
With people who neither have cities nor kings,
Who wear skins on their shoulders and paint on their faces,
And live on the spoils which their hunting-field brings.

He told me of waters, whose wonderful falling

Sends clouds of white foam and a thundering sound, With a voice that for ever is loud and appalling,

And roars like a lion for many leagues round.

Oh! I long, dear Mamma, to learn more of these stories
From books that are written to please and to teach;
And I wish I could see half the curious glories

The sailor-boy told me of down on the beach.

ELIZA COOK.