« FöregåendeFortsätt »
“ All glory! all honour! all praise !"
When they think of the days that are gone,
If at times from the land of the blest,
To His cause they who firmly had stood,
Nor hunger, nor thirst do they know,
I long to behold as I sing,
THE PILGRIM FATHERS.
Patiently waiting on a surf-bound shore,
With ardent breathings filled, a pilgrim band Gazes its last; it soon shall gaze no more
On its loved father-land.
Nor self-sought exile's miseries they heed,
They count the cost, nor reck the sacrifice: To worship God, from human shackles freed,
They count of untold price. The hoary-headed patriarch in prayer
Pours out his glowing soul, that God would bless Their journeyings, and make their weal his care
Through life's sad wilderness.
Beside the silvery locks of chastened age
Stern resolution knits firm manhood's brow; The tender mother struggles to assuage
The pearl-drop's briny flow
And children gambol in unconscious play,
Nor heed they in exuberance of mirth
The country of their birth. A bark crests gallantly the white-topped wave,
With hopeless sighings patriot bosoms swell, “ Far from our fathers' bones shall be our grave,
England, fair land, farewell!" Are these fanatics ? Say, they rather strove,
The worsted champions, in the cause of right;We, aided by their hero-sufferings, prove
Victors in freedom's fight. S. X.
THE HOME OF POETRY.
Mid torrents wildly rushing,
Where infant rills are gushing,
In Autumn's sighing breeze;
Or murmuring in the trees.
With Winter's snowy plain ;
Rides o'er the Arctic main.
On ocean's mirrored breast;
Sinks in the golden west.
Ere the last stars have fled,
The violet's lowly head.
It basks in sunbeams bright;
In the deep hush of night.
The lark's glad music rings;
The harp's resounding strings.
The tide's soft murmuring fall,
Is its primeval hall.
It dwelt in Eden's happy shades,
Its peaceful fragrant bowers, Where Eve in amaranthine glades
Culled earth's first peerless flowers.
To man its charms are given,
Songs of its birthplace heaven.
Can I not seek it there?
No spell to banish care ?
To trace in moonlit grove,
Divine, Almighty, love.
My SAVIOUR! meet in THEE,
C. B. C.
The Restaural of ye loste Shepe.
[In the manner of the Sixteenth Century.]
S. X. THE
(See the Vignette.) THORNTON COLLEGE, before the dissolution of monasteries, was one of the wealthiest of the Lincolnshire abbeys. It was founded in A. D. 1139, and canons distinguished by black gowns, sought refuge and solitude within its walls: a few years afterwards the priory was raised to the rank of an abbey. Henry the Eighth visited the abbot there A.D. 1541, and the hospitality he received induced him to spare the establishment at the general suppression, and to convert it into a college. In the reign of his boy-successor, the college was dissolved, and the property was exchanged with the Bishop of Lincoln. Our Vignette gives the principal features now remaining.
THE LIVING RILL. Our narrative commenced the year of the great rebellion, 1745, though we date not the rise of our little branch of living waters until some considerable time afterwards, when, through the operations of the Divine Spirit, it sprang up in the breast of a solitary and afflicted widow, and thence passed on through a period of nearly a hundred years.