When, loud and high, the leader's stern command
Rose fierce, but vain, above that bloody band;
Though stained with slaughter's darkest, foulest hue,
No arm was raised, no death-winged bullet flew :-
The ruthless Clavers raised his hand on high,
Rage in his heart, and mockery in his eye;
A moment-and the martyred hero lay
Bedewed in blood, --his soul had passed away!
From death and insult, springing to a throne,
The guilt his foe's, the triumph all his own.

The Theban mother gloried in her son,
Borne on his shield from battle he had won;
The peasant's wife, far on the Scottish moor,
With none to soothe, did heavier griefs endure ;-
The Christian matron to her nature true,

Leant o'er her slaughtered lord and triumphed too.

TO THE MEMORY OF LORD BYRON.

The harp of the minstrel is hung in the hall,

And his fleeting existence is o'er ;

And still are its strings, as it sleeps on the wall,
Like the fingers that swept it before.

His eye, once so bright, has been robb'd of its fire,
His bosom, once wild as the wave,

Which the shrill note of liberty's trump could inspire,
Or the heart-thrilling tones of the well-swept lyre,
Is silent and still as the grave.

"He had evil within him"

-we saw the dark shade

When his bosom's dark secrets we scan;

Yet his arm was still lifted the freeman to aid,
And his deeds shed a lustre on man.

If the black cloud of h te o'er his bosom did low'r,
If he wished to the desert to flee,

He was only the foe of the minion of pow'r,

Who, fiend-like, stalks over the earth for an hour,
But was ever the friend of the free.

The soft scenes of nature for him had no charms,
The riv'let and fast-fading flow'r

Awaked not his soul, like the horrid alarms
When a nation is wreck'd in an hour.

In the dark-sweeping storm, by Omnipotence driven,
In the flash and the long pealing roll;

In the rocking of earth, in the frowning of heaven,
When the pillars of nature seem trembling and riven,
'Twas a beam of delight to his soul.

As he wander'd (O Greece!) o'er thy once hallow'd ground, And stood o'er the warrior's grave,

He heard but the voice of Oppression around,

And saw but the home of the slave

As he gazed through the vista of ages gone by,
In the glory and pride of the world-
As he gazed on the ruins that round him did lie,
It drew from his bosom a sorrowful sigh,

Where Tyranny's flag was unfurl'd.

He tuned his wild harp o'er the ruins of Greece,
His strains were impassion'd and strong;
They solaced his heart, like a seraph of peace,
While her freedom arose like a song.

And when the bright sun of their liberty rose,
His heart full of rapture adored;

The morning had dawn'd on their fatal repose,
Their slumbers were broken, they rushed on their foes,
To shiver the chains they abhorr'd.

Did he fall in the struggle when Greece would be free? 'Twas a star blotted out on their shore,

But his hovering spirit yet triumphs with thee,
Though his brave arm can aid thee no more.
He expired as the torch of thy glory grew bright,
In the glorious noon of his day;

His triumph was short, like the meteor of night
As it flashes o'er heav'n with its long train of light-
For like it he vanished away.

You have seen the bright summer sun sink in the west, And the glories that shrouded him there,

Like the splendours that dwell on the heav'n of the blest, Immortal, unclouded, and fair.

So the halo of glory shall circle his name,

His wreath shall eternally bloom;

And Britain triumphant her Byron shall claim,

As he shines with the great in the temple of Fame,

The triumph of man o'er the tomb!

THE POET'S WISHES.

Give me the silent evening hour,
And leave me alone to stray;
Give me the old grey ruined tow'r,
And the setting beam of day;

Give me the patriot's field of fame,

And the martyr's hallow'd grave;

And oft will I breathe his much-loved name,
Whose deeds did his country save;

Give me the glowing page of night,
To read with a poet's eye;

With the lovely moonbeam's sombre light,
When the broken clouds are nigh;

Give me the lightning's vivid flash,
And the thunder's gathering peal,
When the ocean billows wildly dash,
And the quaking mountain's reel;
Give me the dark and lonely glen,
And the cave on the mountain's breast,-
Unstained by the bloody deeds of men,-
To spread my lone couch of rest;

Give me dear woman's joyous heart,
With her soothing, soft caress;
Give me the friend that scorns to part
In the hour of deep distress;

Give me, oh, give me the God above ;-
And the world's wildest spot

Will beam on my bosom with peace and love,
Like our first-born father's lot;

Give me the hour of holy mirth,
That to sainted souls is given;

Then bear me away from the climes of earth,
On an angel's wings to heaven!

WILLIAM GRAHAM, LL.D.

ERHAPS Edinburgh is not so rich in literary talent as she once was; but the contents of this volume will, it is hoped, show that she has still a few survivors of the literary circle of the earlier part of this century. The great age of Scott and Wilson has passed-Neaves has recently left us-but the accomplished author of "Rab and his Friends," and a small remnant survive, who are remembrancers of the old set who have passed away.

William Graham, LL.D., one of the most accomplished teachers of our time, was born at Dunkeld, in October, 1800. His father removed to Perth soon after, and the only incident Dr Graham records of his residence in the town of his birth is that, while there, he sat on the knee of Neil Gow. After receiving his

his

ap

school education partly from his father, who was a well-known teacher at Perth, he, at the early age of twelve, was enrolled as a student at the University of Edinburgh. At the end of his curriculum, he taught first at Perth, where he was father's assistant till 1823, when he was pointed teacher of English in the academy of Cupar Fife. Before this time he devoted his attention to elocution, and gave his first "readings" in Perth. One of his colleagues and friends in Cupar was the late Professor Nichol, of Glasgow, and he enjoyed there the friendship of Professor Gillespie, of St Andrews, then minister of Cults. In 1831 he was appointed teacher of history, English literature, and elocution in the Military Academy of Edinburgh, and at the same time opened a private academy in that city, and taught in many boarding schools. In 1867 he was appointed teacher and lecturer on elocution in the New College, Edinburgh.

On coming to Edinburgh, Dr Graham entered upon a most successful career as an educationist. He was not only employed in the best schools, but was one of the founders and directors of the Scottish Institution for Ladies, Moray Place-the first of the Ladies' Colleges in the country, in connection with the opening of which he delivered the introductory lecture. He was one of the first presidents of the Educational Institute of Scotland; he also acted as president of the Watt Club in connection with the School of Arts, and on leaving the chair he gave a powerful address which was afterwards published. He also appeared frequently before the public as most popular elocutionist and lecturer. In the midst of all his multifarious engagements, his pen was not idle. He edited the Educational Jonrnal for some time with much tact and ability, and its pages were enriched by many thoughtful articles during his period of office. He wrote for the Educuational Series of the Messrs Chambers, "Exer

a

cises in Etymology," and a volume on "Elocution," which has had a wide circulation. He also produced numerous contributions, both in prose and verse, to various magazines.

66

A number of these he afterwards published in a volume, entitled "Lectures, Sketches, and Poetical Pieces," (1873), and from these the poems we give here are extracted. The work was issued in compliance with the wishes of many old pupils. A good deal of the matter is connected with school life, and several of the lectures refer to the state of manners and of education many years ago, and were delivered at the Philosophical Institution, and elsewhere. In this respect it is useful as affording means of ascertaining, by a comparison with the present, what has been the progress of education in the country; while many of the sketches and essays are on subjects of the deepest interest to Scottish readers especially. They include such subjects as the "Neglect of National Music, ," "Scottish life in the Past," Vacation Recollections,' The Scotch Accent," &c., with an address by him as chairman at the public dinner at Innerleithen on the occasion of the Scott centenary. The volume was well received, and the Scotsman referred to the pleasure it afforded the friends of Dr Graham and the public to have these effusions and lectures, which had hitherto been concealed by anonymity. "His style," says Mr Russell, "is free and natural-his spirit, genial-his experiences, wide and varied. He has read men as well as books, and both of them with sharp perception, and the aid of a fine though not narrow taste." His poetical effusions evince an ardent love of nature and deep, yet delicate humour. Many of them are in commendation of the arts of angling and golfing, and the best songs. of modern days in connection with these subjects have been the productions of his pen.

Dr Graham taught for upwards of forty years from nine to ten hours a day, and still continues to teach.