No sense have they of ills to come,
Nor care beyond to-day:

Yet see how all around them wait

The ministers of human fate,

And black misfortune's baleful train! Ah, show them where in ambush stand, To seize their prey, the murtherous band! Ah, tell them they are men!

These shall the fury passions tear,
The vultures of the mind,
Disdainful anger, pallid fear,

And shame that skulks behind;
Or pining love shall waste their youth,
Or jealousy, with rankling tooth,
That inly gnaws the secret heart;
And envy wan, and faded care,
Grim-visaged comfortless despair,
And sorrow's piercing dart.

Ambition this shall tempt to rise,
Then whirl the wretch from high,
To bitter scorn a sacrifice,

And grinning infamy.

The stings of falsehood those shall try,
And hard unkindness' altered eye,

That mocks the tear it forced to flow; And keen remorse with blood defiled, And moody madness laughing wild

Amid severest woe.

Lo! in the vale of years beneath
A grisly troop are seen,
The painful family of Death,

More hideous than their queen:

This racks the joints, this fires the veins,
That every laboring sinew strains,
Those in the deeper vitals rage:
Lo! poverty, to fill the band,

That numbs the soul with icy hand,
And slow-consuming age.

To each his sufferings: all are men,
Condemned alike to groan;

The tender for another's pain,

The unfeeling for his own.

Yet, ah! why should they know their fate,
Since sorrow never comes too late,

And happiness too swiftly flies?
Thought would destroy their paradise.
No more; where ignorance is bliss,
'T is folly to be wise.

Thomas Gray.

Falmouth.

FALMOUTH HAVEN.

[ERE Vale a lively flood, her nobler name that gives

HERE

To Falmouth, and by whom it famous ever lives, Whose entrance is from sea so intricately wound,

Her haven angled so about her barbarous sound, That in her quiet bay a hundred ships may ride, Yet not the tallest mast be of the tall'st descried. Michael Drayton.

Farrington.

A LANCASHIRE DOXOLOGY.

"SOME cotton has lately been imported into Farringdon, where the mills have been closed for a considerable time. The people, who were previously in the deepest distress, went out to meet the cotton: the women wept over the bales and kissed them, and finally sang the Doxołogy over them."-Spectator of May 14, 1863.

"PRAISE God from whom all blessings flow.”

Praise him, who sendeth joy and woe.

The Lord who takes, the Lord who gives, -
O, praise him, all that dies, and lives.

He opens and he shuts his hand,
But why, we cannot understand;
Pours and dries up his mercies' flood,
And yet is still all-perfect Good.

We fathom not the mighty plan,
The mystery of God and man.
We women, when afflictions come,
We only suffer and are dumb.

And when, the tempest passing by,
He gleams out, sun-like, through our sky,

We look up, and through black clouds riven,
We recognize the smile of Heaven.

Ours is no wisdom of the wise,
We have no deep philosophies:
Childlike we take both kiss and rod,

For he who loveth knoweth God.

Dinah Maria Mulock Craik.

Farringford.

TO THE REV. F. D. MAURICE.

YOME, when no graver cares employ,

COME

Godfather, come and see your boy:
Your presence will be sun in winter,
Making the little one leap for joy.

For, being of that honest few,
Who give the Fiend himself his due,
Should eighty thousand college-councils
Thunder Anathema,' friend, at you;

Should all our churchmen foam in spite
At you, so careful of the right,

Yet one lay-hearth would give you welcome (Take it and come) to the Isle of Wight;

Where, far from noise and smoke of town,
I watch the twilight falling brown

All round a careless-ordered garden Close to the ridge of a noble down.

You'll have no scandal while you dine,
But honest talk and wholesome wine,
And only hear the magpie gossip
Garrulous under a roof of pine :

For groves of pine on either hand,
To break the blast of winter, stand;

And further on, the hoary Channel
Tumbles a breaker on chalk and sand;

Where, if below the milky steep
Some ship of battle slowly creep,

And on through zones of light and shadow

Glimmer away to the lonely deep,

We might discuss the Northern sin
Which made a selfish war begin;

Dispute the claims, arrange the chances;
Emperor, Ottoman, which shall win:

Or whether war's avenging rod
Shall lash all Europe into blood;

Till you should turn to dearer matters,
Dear to the man that is dear to God;

How best to help the slender store,
How mend the dwellings, of the poor;
How gain in life, as life advances,
Valor and charity more and more.