Till broad and fierce the star came forth on Ely's stately

fane,1

And tower and hamlet rose in arms o'er all the boundless

plain;

Till Belvoir's 2 lordly terraces the sign to Lincoln sent, And Lincoln sped the message on o'er the wide vale of

Trent;

Till Skiddaw 3 saw the fire that burned on Gaunt's 4 em

battled pile,

And the red glare on Skiddaw roused the burghers of Carlisle.

THE LAST FAREWELL. (ANON.)

COME, my brother, nearer, nearer,
For my limbs are growing cold;
And thy presence seemeth dearer
When thy arms around me fold.
I am dying, brother, dying;

Soon you'll miss me in your berth,
For my form will soon be lying
'Neath the ocean's briny surf.
Hearken to me, brother, hearken,
I have something I would say,
Ere the veil my vision darken,
And I go
from hence away:

I am going, surely going;

But my hope in God is strong;

1 On the cathedral of Ely, a town in Cambridgeshire.

2 Belvoir Castle is the residence of the Duke of Rutland. The

valley of Belvoir runs through Lincoln, Leicester, and Nottingham. 3 Skiddaw, a mountain in Cumberland.

4 Gaunt's embattled pile, Lancaster Castle; so called from John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster.

I am willing, brother, knowing
That He doeth nothing wrong.

Tell my father, when you greet him,
That in death I prayed for him;
Prayed that I might one day meet him
In a world that's free from sin.
Tell my mother-(God assist her,
Now that she is growing old!)—
Say her child would glad have kissed her
When his lips grew pale and cold.

Listen, brother, catch each whisper,
"Tis my wife I'd speak of now :
Tell, oh tell her how I missed her
When the fever burned my brow!
Tell her, brother-(closely listen,
Don't forget a single word)-
That in death my eyes did glisten
With the tears her mem'ry stirred.

Tell her she must kiss my children,
Like the kiss I last impressed;
Hold them as when last I held them,
Folded closely to my breast:
Give them early to their Maker,
Putting all her trust in God;
And he never will forsake her,
For he said so in his Word.

Oh, my children! Heaven bless them,
They were all my life to me;
Would I could once more caress them,

Ere I sink beneath the sea!

'Twas for them I crossed the ocean-
What my hopes were, I'll not tell;
But I've gained the better portion ;
For He doeth all things well.

Tell my sisters I remember

Every kindly parting word;
And my heart has been kept tender

By the thoughts their mem'ry stirred. Tell them I ne'er reached the haven Where I sought the precious dust; But I have gained that better land Where the gold will never rust.

Urge them to secure an entrance,
For they'll find their brother there;
Faith in Jesus, and repentance,

Will secure for each a share.

Hark! I hear my Saviour speaking

'Tis his voice, I know it well: When I am gone, oh, don't be weepingBrother, here's my last farewell.

THE FUNERAL AT SEA. (FINN.)

DEEP mists hung over the mariner's grave,

When the holy funeral rite was read;
And every breath on the dark blue wave
Seem'd hushed, to hallow the friendless dead.

And heavily heaved on the gloomy sea

The ship that sheltered that homeless one,

As though his funeral hour should be

When the waves were still and the winds were gone.

And there he lay, in his coarse, cold shroud,
And strangers were round the coffinless;
Not a kinsman was seen among the crowd-
Not an eye to weep, nor a lip to bless.

No sound from the church's passing-bell
Was echoed along the pathless deep,
The hearts that were far away to tell
Where the mariner lies in his lasting sleep.

Not a whisper then lingered upon the air:

O'er his body one moment his messmates bent; But the plunging sound of the dead was there, And the ocean is now his monument.

But many a sigh, and many a tear,

Shall be breathed and shed, in the hours to come,

When the widow and fatherless shall hear

How he died, far, far from his happy home.

'BUT, see! look up-on Flodden bent
The Scottish foe has fired his tent ;'
And sudden, as he spoke,
From the sharp ridges of the hill,

All downward to the banks of Till,

Was wreathed in sable smoke.

1 In the year 1315 James IV. of Scotland invaded England with an army of fifty thousand men. He posted himself strongly on Flodden Hill, in Northumberland, but foolishly allowed the Earl of Surrey, who commanded the English army, to cross the river Till in his front, and get between him and his own country, without attacking him. Seeing the. English in this position, James set fire to his tents and descended the hill. A desperate battle ensued, in which the Scots were utterly defeated -their king and the flower of his army being left dead on the field.