ELBA.

HE SHALL COME AS AN EAGLE.-HOSEA VIII. 1.

AMID the billows sweeping,

We pass, with speed of light, The iron islet sleeping

Calm, 'neath the gloom of night:

Tho' gone its summer glory,
And deep its treasures lie—

It has a charm in story,

To fix the wand'rer's eye.

Lone, on the midland water,
The king of birds they bore ;
Where he his thirst for slaughter
Might quench with blood no more!
They clipt his sweeping feather-
They loos'd him on the sand;
And bade him roam the heather,
And rule the iron land.

23

Vain now each glittering pinion--
Vain now his heart of pride--
Bound in that scant dominion
For ever to abide :

Yet, in that bitter hour,

They left his plumed crestHis lordly glance of powerHis spirit of unrest.

But who may bound the ocean,
Within a mortal's hand,

Or curb its heaving motion

By cords of woven sand? Tho' for a time its thunder

Seem silent as the graveIt bursts its bands asunder, And rolls its stormy wave.

His mighty youth renewing,
He roamed the islet free ;
Then paused-his keen eye viewing
The wide and wasteful sea.
There's danger in that vision-
I see his wings unfurled;
He hath a mighty mission-
Blood for a guilty world!

Woe to the dawning morrow!
A sound is in the air-
The cry of coming sorrow
The moanings of despair.
I heard, on breezes sailing
Adown the northern tide,
The voice of nations wailing

The death of those who died!

He stooped his mighty pinion,
Where myriads thronged the plain ;
And claimed his old dominion,

To batten on the slain

Gorged with the blood, they found him,
Where fell the good and brave—
They stripp'd his plumes, and bound him
Far on the Atlantic wave.

Who sent him forth for slaughter,
And nerv'd him for his prey?

Who gave him blood as water,

Then checked his vengeful way?

While he his own arm trusted,

GOD WROUGHT HIS PURPOSE HIGH

Then, as a sword-blade rusted,

Flung him dishonoured by !

26

THE PALATINE.

ΤΟ

WHILE 'mid the wreck of palaces I stand,
Crush'd 'neath the weight of Time's remorseless hand,
I cast a look beyond the sounding sea,
And turn for Christian fellowship to thee!
I know thy longings breathe another clime,
Where Hope eternal triumphs over Time;
Yet e'en a soul, intent on heav'nly bliss,
May muse awhile o'er such a scene as this;
A moment from the sun avert the brow,

To mark his radiance on the things below!
Here may'st thou read-the crumbling arch beside-
How vain man's boast; his passion, and his pride-
Here may'st thou note, in characters of earth,
How worthless human estimates of worth-
Here trace the wrath of a sin-hating God,
In the swoln wheals of his avenging rod-
Weep for a world, that weeps not for her own,
For those that pray not, plead before the throne;