A WISH. MINE be a cot beside the hill; The swallow, oft, beneath my thatch The village-church among the trees, Where first our marriage-vows were given, With merry peals shall swell the breeze And point with taper spire to Heaven. LOSS OF THE ROYAL GEORGE. The brave that are no more! Fast by their native shore! Eight hundred of the brave A land-breeze shook the shrouds Down went the Royal George, Toll for the brave! It was not in the battle; His sword was in its sheath, Weigh the vessel up Once dreaded by our foes! Her timbers yet are sound, And she may float again Full charged with England's thunder, And plough the distant main: But Kempenfelt is gone, His victories are o'er; And he and his eight hundred A TRANQUIL MORNING AFTER A STORM. THERE was a roaring in the wind all night; The rain came heavily, and fell in floods; But now the sun is rising calm and bright; The birds are singing in the distant woods; Over his own sweet voice the stock-dove broods! The jay makes answer as the magpie chatters; And all the air is filled with pleasant noise of waters. All things that love the sun are out of doors; The sky rejoices in the morning's birth; The grass is bright with raindrops; . on the moors The hare is running races in her mirth; And with her feet she from the plashy earth Raises a mist, that, glittering in the sun, Runs with her all the way wherever she doth run. THE BEGGAR MAN. AROUND the fire, one winter night, "Cold blows the blast across the moor; 66 My eyes are weak and dim with age; No road, no path, can I descry; And these poor rags ill stand the rage "So faint I am-these tottering feet "Open your hospitable door; And shield me from the biting blast: The little children flocking came, Their kindness cheered his drooping soul; |