of which the first was evil, and the second the slave of iniquity, perished for ever in

THE DESTRUCTION OF GIBEAH.

Israel's wolf is on the way,

Who shall turn him back?
On! to thy twice-defeated prey,

On! by the bloody track!

Nor Canaan's train hath soil'd thy plain,
Nor Jebus mocks thy slinger's might,
But Judah's hand hath ta'en the brand,
To crown his Lord's avenging fight.

Deaf to mercy's sacred call,
Yet hark to Gibeah's cry!
And see above her loftiest wall
Yon cloud-like canopy!
It rises higher, it turns to fire,
And Judah halts his flying host-
His rallied spear is on thy rear,
But thou-thy very heart is lost!

Belial walk'd in Gibeah's street,
His hand was on his prey;
She sank, a suppliant, at his feet,
But he turn'd his heart away.
Her shame is won, her penance done,
Her corpse lies at the stranger's door;
But the spoiler's pride is dash'd aside,
And Gibeah-Gibeah lives no more!

From the lonely beacon's height,
As the watchmen gaz'd around,
They saw their flashing light
Drive swift athwart the night;
Yet the wind was fair, and right
To the Sound.

But no mortal pow'r shall now
That crew and vessel save-
They are shrouded as they go
In a hurricane of snow,

And the track beneath her prow

Is their grave.

There are spirits of the deep,
Who, when the warrant's given,
Rise raging from their sleep

On rock, or mountain steep,

Or mid thunder-clouds that keep

The wrath of heav'n.

High the eddying mists are whirl'd
As they rear their giant forms;
See! their tempest flag's unfurl'd,-
Fierce they sweep the prostrate world,

And the with'ring lightning's hurl'd

Through the storms.

O'er Swilly's rocks they soar,
Commissioned watch to keep;

Down, down, with thund'ring roar,

The exulting demons pour

The Saldanah floats no more

O'er the deep!

The dreadful hest is past

All is silent as the grave;

One shriek was first and last

Scarce a death sob drunk the blast,

As sunk her tow'ring mast

Beneath the wave.

"Britannia rules the waves".
O vain and impious boast!
Go mark, presumptuous slaves,
Where He, who sinks or saves,
Scars the sands with countless graves

Round your coast.

HUMAN SORROW.

ABOUT two years ago, I was witness to a scene of deep and dreadful affliction, which left a very strong impression on my mind. A most intimate and dear friend of mine was going to be married to a woman whom he loved with the extremity of all-engrossing affection-to one who, as I heard, was every way worthy of such love from such a man, and who returned it with all that additional fondness and fervour, which the perfection of love in woman always possesses over and above the perfection of love in man. I was to be present at their marriage; but shortly before the time for which it was fixed, I received a letter from a relation of my friend, entreating me to set out to join him without delay-as he was in a most alarming state, from the shock he had sustained by the sudden death of his betrothed. It ap

peared that she had burst a blood-vessel, and died in a few hours.

The letter which conveyed to me this intelligence did not reach me for some days later than it should have done in consequence of my having been a short time absent from my usual place of residence. The instant I did receive it, I set out for the house of the father of Miss -9 which was where she had died, and where my friend then was. I arrived there on the morning that the funeral was to take place. Stranger as I was to the whole family, I was received with the utmost earnestness,-for the condition in which Lwas, was so appalling, that they almost feared the removal of the body would be fatal to him; and as I was supposed to have more influence over him than any and than all, my arrival was greeted with joy. Heavy and crushing as the blow was to the parents, the witnessing such affliction as L's served to relieve and dissipate their own, by making them dread, that the loss of him who was a son to their hearts, would be added to that of her who was their daughter in blood as well as in affection. It compelled them to make exertion for him, -and we all know that that is the strongest of all medicines for recent sorrow.

I went to Limmediately. He was in the room with the corpse; and was sitting beside it when I entered. The moment he beheld me, he fell upon my neck and wept-for the first time, as I was afterwards told, since the catastrophe had happened. He wept long, very long. At last he seemed relieved; he raised himself took me by the hand, and led me to the coffin.

I had never seen her during life-but even now she was surpassingly beautiful. Cold, marble-pale, and