Than this pure soul shall be: all princely graces,
That mould up such a mighty piece as this is,
With all the virtues that attend the good,
Shall still be doubled on her : truth shall nurse her,
Holy and heavenly thoughts shall counsel her:
She shall be loved, and feared : her own shall bless her:
Her foes shake like a field of beaten corn,
And hang their heads with sorrow : good grows with

her,
In her days, every man shall eat in safety,
Under his own vine, what he plants; and sing
The merry songs of peace to all his neighbours :
God shall be truly known ; and those about her
From her shall read the perfect ways of honour,
And by those claim their greatness, not by blood.
Nor shall this peace sleep with her : but as when
The bird of wonder dies, the maiden phoenix,
Her ashes new-create another heir,
As great in admiration as herself;
So shall she leave her blessedness to one
(When heaven shall call her from this cloud of darkness),
Who, from the sacred ashes of her honour,
Shall star-like rise, as great in fame as she was,
And so stand fixed : peace, plenty, love, truth, terror,
That were the servants to this chosen infant,
Shall then be his, and like a vine grow to him n;
Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine,
His honour and the greatness of his name
Shall be and make new nations : he shall flourish,
And, like a mountain cedar, reach his branches
To all the plains about him :–Our children's children
Shall see this, and bless heaven.

THE OLD FAMILIAR FACES.-Lamb.

I HAVE had playmates, I have had companions,
In my days of childhood, in my joyful school days;
All, all are gone, the old familiar faces !

I have been laughing, I have been carousing,
Drinking late, sitting late, with my bosom cronies;
All, all are gone, the old familiar faces !

I loved a love once, fairest among women ;
Closed are her doors on me; I must not see her ;
All, all are gone, the old familiar faces !

I have a friend, a kinder friend has no man;
Like an ingrate I left my friend abruptly;
Left him, to muse on the old familiar faces !

Ghost-like I paced round the haunts of my childhood; Earth seemed a desert I was bound to traverse, Seeking to find the old familiar faces.

Friend of my bosom ! thou more than a brother !
Why wert not thou born in my father's dwelling?
So might we talk of the old familiar faces-

How some they have died, and some they have left me,
And some are taken from me ; all are departed;
All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.

TO THE RAINBOW.-Campbell.

TRIUMPHAL arch, that fill'st the sky

When storms prepare to part, I ask not proud Philosophy

To teach me what thou art.

Still seem, as to my

childhood's sight, A midway station given, For happy spirits to alight

Betwixt the earth and heaven.

Can all, that optics teach, unfold

Thy form to please me so,
As when I dreamt of gems and gold

Hid in thy radiant bow?

When Science from Creation's face

Enchantment's veil withdraws, What lovely visions yield their place

To cold material laws !

And yet, fair bow, no fabling dreams,

But words of the Most High, Have told why first thy robe of beams

Was woven in the sky.

When o'er the green undeluged earth

Heaven's covenant thou didst shine, How came the world's gray fathers forth,

To watch thy sacred sign!

And when its yellow lustre smiled

O'er mountains yet untrod, Each mother held aloft her child,

To bless the bow of God.

Methinks, thy jubilee to keep,

The first-made anthem rang
On earth, delivered from the deep,

And the first poet sang.

Nor ever shall the Muse's

eye Unraptured greet thy beam ; Theme of primeval prophecy,

Be still the poet's theme !

The earth to thee her incense yields,

The lark thy welcome sings, When glittering in the freshened fields,

The snowy mushroom springs.

How glorious is thy girdle cast

O’er mountain, tower, and town, Or mirrored in the ocean vast,

A thousand fathoms down !

As fresh in yon horizon dark,

As young thy beauties seem, As when the eagle from the ark

First sported in thy beam.

For, faithful to its sacred page,

Heaven still rebuilds thy span, Nor lets the type grow pale with age,

That first spoke peace to man.

INGRATITUDE.-Shakspeare.

Blow, blow, thou winter wind,
Thou art not so unkind,

As man's ingratitude !
Thy tooth is not so keen,
Because thou art not seen,

Although thy breath be rude.

Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,
That dost not bite so nigh

As benefits forgot!
Though thou the waters warp,
Thy sting is not so sharp

As friend remembered not.

THE SPANISH ARMADA.—Macaulay. ATTEND, all ye who list to hear our noble England's

praise ; I tell of the thrice famous deeds she wrought in

ancient days, When that great fleet invincible against her bore in

vain The richest spoils of Mexico, the stoutest hearts of

Spain. It was about the lovely close of a warm summer

day, There came

a gallant merchant-ship full sail to Plymouth Bay; Her crew hath seen Castile's black fleet, beyond

Aurigny's isle, At earliest twilight, on the waves lie heaving many a

mile;

At sunrise she escaped their van, by God's especial