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From all the batteries of the Tower pealed loud

the voice of fear; And all the thousand masts of Thames sent back

a louder cheer : And from the furthest wards was heard the rush

of hurrying feet, And the broad streams of pikes and flags rushed

down each roaring street; And broader still became the blaze, and louder still

the din, As fast from every village round the horse came

spurring in : And eastward straight, from wild Blackheath, the

warlike errand went, And roused in many an ancient hall the gallant

squires of Kent. Southward from Surrey's pleasant hills flew those

bright couriers forth; High on bleak Hampstead's swarthy moor they

started for the north ; And on, and on, without a pause, untired they

bounded still : All night from tower to tower they sprang ; they

sprang from hill to hill: Till the proud Peak unfurled the flag o'er Darwin's

rocky dales, Till like volcanoes flared to heaven the stormy

hills of Wales; Till twelve fair counties saw the blaze on Malvern's

lonely height, Till streamed in crimson on the wind the Wrekin's

crest of light; Till broad and fierce the star came forth on Ely's

stately fane, And tower and hamlet rose in arms o'er all the

boundless plain ;

Till Belvoir's lordly terraces the sign to Lincoln

sent, And Lincoln sped the message on o'er the wide

vale of Trent; Till Skiddaw saw the fire that burned on Gaunt's

embattled pile, And the red glare on Skiddaw roused the burghers

of Carlisle.

TO A MOUSE.-(Burns.)

Wee, sleekit, cowerin', tim'rous beastie,
O, what a panic's in thy breastie !
Thou need na start awa' sae hastie,

Wi' bickering brattle ! 1
I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee,

Wi' murd'rin' prattle!
I'm truly sorry man's dominion
Has broken nature's social union,
An' justifies that ill opinion

Which makes thee startle
At me, thy poor, earth-born companion,

An' fellow-mortal.

I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve;
What then ? poor beastie, thou maun live!
A daimen-icker in a thrave?

'S a sma' request;
I'll get a blessin' wi' the lave,

An' never miss't.

• 1


2 An occasional ear of corn.

Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin !
It's silly wa's the win's are strewin'!
An' naething now to big a new ane

O’ foggagel green!
An' bleak December's winds ensuin',

Baith snell? and keen !

Thou saw the fields laid bare and waste,
An' weary winter comin' fast,
An' cosie here, beneath the blast,

Thou thought ta dwell,
Till crash! The cruel coulter past

Out through thy cell.
That wee bit heap o' leaves and stibble,
Has cost thee mony a weary nibble !
Now thou's turn'd out, for a' thy trouble,

But house or hald,
To tholes the winter's sleety dribble,

And cranreuch 4 cauld !
But, mousie, thou art no thy lane,
In proving foresight may be vain :
The best-laid schemes o mice and men

Gang aft a-gley,
And lea'e us nought but grief and pain

For promis'd joy.
Still thou art blest, compared wi' me!
The present only toucheth thee;
But, och! I backward cast my e'e,

On prospects drear !
And forward, though I canna sce,

I guess an' fear.

1 Stray vegetable materials. 4 Hoar-frost.

5 Alone.

2 Biting.

3 Endure. 6 Awry.

LOVE AND AGE.-(Thomas L. Peacock.) I play'd with you 'mid cowslips blowing,

When I was six and you were four; When garlands weaving, flower-balls throwing,

Were pleasures soon to please no more. Thro' groves and meads, o'er grass and heather,

With little playmates, to and fro, We wander'd hand in hand together ;

But that was sixty years ago. You grew a lovely roseate maiden,

And still our early love was strong ; Still with no care our days were laden,

They glided joyously along;
And I did love you very dearly-

How dearly, words want power to show ;
I thought your heart was touched as nearly :

But that was fifty years ago.
Then other lovers came around you ;

Your beauty grew from year to year,
And many a splendid circle found you

The centre of its glittering sphere. I saw you then, first vows forsaking,

On rank and wealth your hand bestow ; Oh, then, I thought my heart was breaking

But that was forty years ago. And I lived on, to wed another :

No cause she gave me to repine;
And when I heard you were a mother,

I did not wish the children mine.
My own young flock, in fair progression

Made up a pleasant Christmas row :
My joy in them was past expression ;-

But that was thirty years ago.

You grew a matron plump and comely,

You dwelt in fashion's brightest blaze ;
My earthly lot was far more homely,

But I too had my festal days.
No merrier eyes have ever glisten'd

Around the hearth-stone's wintry glow, Then when my youngest child was christen'd:

But that was twenty years ago.
Time past. My eldest girl was married,

And I am now a grandsire grey ;
One pet of four years old I've carried

Among the wild flower'd meads to play In our old fields of childish pleasure,

Where now, as then, the cowslips blow, She fills her basket's ample measure

And that is not ten years ago.
But though first love's impassion'd blindness

Has pass'd away in colder light,
I still have thought of you with kindness,

And shall do, till our last good-night ;
The ever-rolling silent hours

Will bring a time we shall not know, When our young days of gathering flowers

Will be an hundred years ago.

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“ There's a tide in the affairs of men
Which taken at the flood leads on to fortune;
Omitted, all the voyage of their life
Is bound in shallows, and in miseries.
On such a full sea are we now afloat ;
And we must take the current when it serves,
Or lose our ventures."

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