And never king's or conqueror's brow He bent beneath the headsman's stroke A wild shout from the numbers broke It was a people's loud acclaim, Rome's wail above her only son, L. E. LANDON. FLIGHT OF XERXES. I SAW him on the battle-eve, The warrior and the warrior's deeds, He looked on ocean--its broad breast While rock and glen, and cave and coast, The thunder of their feet! I saw him next alone; nor camp He stood alone, whom Fortune high He who with Heaven contended He stood-fleet, army, treasure gone, While wave and wind swept ruthless on, Where late his thousand ships were dark, Must all thy fury dare ;— Thy glorious revenge was this, Thy trophy, deathless Salamis ! JEWSBURY. THE FUGITIVE SLAVE. He stood, all bleeding on the bank, above the frothing river; He heard the wild waves roaring past, he saw their white crests quiver; He knew that far o'er that billowy war, hands were waiting to deliver. Dark was the might of the ocean flood, and thunder-voiced the roar With which the broad St. Lawrence leaped by the green Canadian shore; But close behind, the gusty wind the planter's curses bore. The fugitive raised his tearful gaze wild gleaming to the sky : "O Heaven!" he murmured, "give me strength to reach yon shore, or die: From whip, from chain, from slavery's stain and bondman's bread I fly. I'm weak with hunger-spent with toil-for long hath been my flight; And cruel eyes have traced my steps, unceasing, day and night: Have for me care, whilst thus I dare yon battling water's might." They came with blood-stained lash and gun; they stood above the flood, And shook on high the felon whip, thick with its clotted blood; But the dauntless slave, 'mid the foaming wave, laughed at their baffled mood. He reached the bank, he sprang to land; 'twas British soil he trod! The soil where ne'er a bondman's print defiles the holy sod; But the eye turns up, like a wild-flower's cup, free, glad, and light, to God! He looked to earth, he looked to heaven, he laughed in frenzied glee; He felt the new-sprung power within, bestirring boundingly; And he shouted high, to earth and sky, "Free !-before Heaven free!" An Arab steed on a desert plain; a bark on the blue seawave; An eagle soaring, his tawny wing in the golden light to lave;-He was nobler than all-he had shivered the thrall, and spurned the name of a slave! BAINE. SONG OF LABOUR. ALL honour to the hard-worn hands That earth's cold crusts are sharing! In serried strength, our country's shield, The good cordwainer sits him down The mind by power unbroken; To him loud mirth and jocund glee "Ye ho! ye ho!" the seamen shout From every crested billow; "Ye ho! heigh ho!" each watch about, Like music, lulls his pillow: And 'midst the storm his heart is warm, And kindly thoughts like blossoms swarm, Up from the forge the sparkling blaze Oh! all things labour that have birth, Each blazing star, that beams afar, And myriad worlds of spirits are Then honour to the lusty hands That earth-born toil are bearing! And honour to the sturdy bands That earth's cold crusts are sharing! In serried strength, our country's shield, I. F. SHEPARD. WHAT IS PRAYER? PRAYER is the soul's sincere desire, The motion of a hidden fire That trembles in the breast. Prayer is the burden of a sigh, The upward glancing of the eye, Prayer is the simplest form of speech Prayer the sublimest strains that reach Prayer is the contrite sinner's voice, Prayer is the Christian's vital breath, His watchword at the gates of death- The saints in prayer appear as one, Nor prayer is made by man alone- And Jesus, on the eternal throne, O Thou, by whom we come to God, The path of prayer Thyself hast trode : MONTGOMERY. |