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SOME MURMUR WHEN THEIR SKY IS

CLEAR.-Trench.

SOME murmur, when their sky is clear

And wholly bright to view,

If one small speck of dark appear

In their great heaven of blue;
And some with thankful love are filled,
If but one streak of light,

One ray of God's good mercy, gild
The darkness of their night.

In palaces are hearts that ask,
In discontent and pride,
Why life is such a dreary task,
And all good things denied ;
And hearts in poorest huts admire
How Love has in their aid
(Love that not ever seems to tire)
Such rich provision made.

YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND.-Campbell.

YE mariners of England!

That guard our native seas;

Whose flag has braved a thousand years,

The battle and the breeze!

Your glorious standard launch again

To match another foe!

And sweep through the deep

While the stormy tempests blow;
While the battle rages loud and long,
And the stormy tempests blow.

H

The spirits of your fathers

Shall start from every wave!

For the deck it was their field of fame,
And ocean was their grave;

Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell,
Your manly hearts shall glow,
As ye sweep through the deep
While the stormy tempests blow;
While the battle rages loud and long,
And the stormy tempests blow.

Britannia needs no bulwark,
No towers along the steep;

Her march is o'er the mountain waves,

Her home is on the deep.

With thunders from her native oak,

She quells the floods below,

As they roar on the shore

When the stormy tempests blow;

When the battle rages loud and long,

And the stormy tempests blow.

The meteor flag of England
Shall yet terrific burn ;

Till danger's troubled night depart,

And the star of peace return.
Then, then, ye ocean-warriors!
Our song and feast shall flow
To the fame of your name,

When the storm has ceased to blow ;
When the fiery fight is heard no more,
And the storm has ceased to blow !

ODE TO DUTY.-Wordsworth.

STERN daughter of the voice of God!
O Duty! if that name thou love,
Who art a light to guide, a rod
To check the erring, and reprove;
Thou who art victory and law

When empty terrors overawe;

From vain temptations dost set free;

And calm'st the weary strife of frail humanity!

There are who ask not if thine eye

Be on them; who, in love and truth,
Where no misgiving is, rely

Upon the genial sense of youth:
Glad hearts! without reproach or blot;
Who do thy work, and know it not :
May joy be theirs while life shall last!

And thou, if they should totter, teach them to stand fast!

Serene will be our days and bright,

And happy will our nature be,
When love is an unerring light,
And joy its own security.

And blest are they who in the main

This faith, e'en now, do entertain :

Live in the spirit of this creed ;

Yet find that other strength, according to their need.

I, loving freedom, and untried;
No sport of every random gust,
Yet being to myself a guide,
Too blindly have reposed my trust:
Full oft, when in my heart was heard
Thy timely mandate, I deferred

The task imposed, from day to day;

But thee I now would serve more strictly, if I may.

Through no disturbance of my soul,
Or strong compunction in me wrought,
I supplicate for thy control;
But in the quietness of thought:
Me this unchartered freedom tires;
I feel the weight of chance desires :

My hopes no more must change their name;
I long for a repose which ever is the same.

Stern lawgiver! yet thou dost wear
The Godhead's most benignant grace;
Nor know we anything so fair
As is the smile upon thy face:

Flowers laugh before thee on their beds;

And fragrance in thy footing treads;

Thou dost preserve the stars from wrong;

And the most ancient heavens, through thee, are fresh

and strong.

To humbler functions, awful power!

I call thee: I myself commend

Unto thy guidance from this hour;

Oh! let my weakness have an end!
Give unto me, made lowly wise,

The spirit of self-sacrifice;

The confidence of reason give;

And in the light of truth thy bondman let me live!

THE EXILE OF ERIN.-Campbell.

THERE came to the beach a poor exile of Erin;
The dew on his thin robe was heavy and chill;
For his country he sighed, when at twilight repairing
To wander alone by the wind-beaten hill.

But the day-star attracted his eyes' sad devotion;
For it rose o'er his own native isle of the ocean,
Where once, in the fire of his youthful emotion,
He sang the bold anthem of Erin-go-bragh.

"Sad is my fate," said the heart-broken stranger :
"The wild deer and wolf to a covert can flee;
But I have no refuge from famine and danger,
A home and a country remain not to me.
Never again, in the green sunny bowers

Where my forefathers lived, shall I spend the sweet hours;

Or cover my harp with the wild-woven flowers,
And strike to the numbers of Erin-go-bragh.

"Erin, my country! though sad and forsaken, In dreams I revisit thy sea-beaten shore; But, alas! in a far foreign land I awaken,

And sigh for the friends who can meet me no more! Oh, cruel fate! wilt thou never replace me

In a mansion of peace where no perils can chase me!
Never again shall my brothers embrace me!
They died to defend me, or live to deplore!

"Where is my cabin door, fast by the wild wood?
Sisters and sire, did ye weep for its fall?
Where is the mother that looked on my childhood?
And where is the bosom friend dearer than all?
Ah! my sad heart, long abandoned by pleasure!
Why did it doat on a fast-fading treasure?
Tears like the rain-drops may fall without measure;
But rapture and beauty they cannot recall.

"Yet all its sad recollections suppressing,
One dying wish my lone bosom can draw;
Erin! an Exile bequeaths thee his blessing!
Land of my forefathers, Erin-go-bragh !

Buried and cold, when my heart stills her motion,
Green be thy fields, sweetest isle of the ocean !
And thy harp-stringing bards sing aloud with devotion,
Erin, mavourneen, Erin-go-bragh!"

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