POETRY. 249 THE SILENT TOWER OF BOTTREAUX. (A Cornish Legend.) [Bottreaux, in Cornwall, better known by the name of Boscastle, is so called from the ancient family of Bottreaux, one of whom built a strong castle there in early times. Tintagel, or Tintadgel, which stands on the same coast, is likewise remarkable for its "marvellous stronge and notable fortress," as Leland describes it. The following verses, which purport to be nothing more than the paraphrase of an old legendary story, have nevertheless so striking a moral, and are so characteristic of their subject, that we should act unfairly in withholding them from our young readers. Without cherishing any feelings allied to a blind and superstitious devotion, we can readily allow, that we should be glad to see similar incidents in our own day, pointed with such inferences as must, we think, be drawn from this well-told tale.] TINTADGEL bells ring o'er the tide— The boy leans on his vessel's side, He hears that sound; and dreams of home "Come-to-thy-God-in-time!" Thus saith their pealing chime: But why are Bottreaux' echoes still? Her tower stands proudly on the hill-- The pilot heard his native bells Hang on the breeze in fitful swells; "Thank God! with reverent brow, he cried, "We make the shore with evening's tide." 'Come-to-thy-God-in-time!" -It was his marriage chime : "Thank God, thou whining knave, on land, Uprose that sea, as if it heard The Mighty Master's signal word! -What thrills the captain's whitening lip? -The death-groans of his sinking ship. "Come-to-thy-God-in-time!" Swung deep the funeral chime- "Come-to-thy-God-at-last!" Long did the rescued pilot tell, When grey hairs o'er his forehead fell, That fearful judgment of the deep! "Come-to-thy-God-in-time!" He read his native chime : Youth, manhood, old age, past; His bell rung out at last! Still when the storm of Bottreaux' waves Peal their deep notes beneath the tide ; "Come-to-thy-God-in-time!" Thus saith the ocean-chime "Storm-billow-whirlwind-past; "6 Come-to-thy-God-at-last!"-Hawker's Ecclesia. THE PAUPER'S DEATH-BED. "It is sown in dishonour, it is raised in glory." TREAD Softly-bow the head In reverent silence bow; No passing bell doth toll, Yet an immortal soul Is passing now. Stranger! however great, With lowly reverence bow; There's one in that poor shed, One by that paltry bed, Greater than thou! Beneath that beggar's roof, Lo! Death doth keep his state. Enter! no crowds attend Enter! no guards defend This palace-gate. The pavement, damp and cold, A dying head. No mingling voices sound An infant wail alone; A sob suppressed-again That short deep gasp, and then The parting groan. O change! O! wondrous change! Burst are the prison bars- O change-stupendous change! There lies the soulless clod. The sun eternal breaks The new immortal wakes Wakes with his God! MRS. SOUTHEY. GOD IS LOVE. (From Nelson's "Lot of Mortality," &c.) PASSING mortal, tell me why Suns and planets deck the sky, Why the troubled ocean roars, Why the clouds by zephyrs driven, Why the rivers, as they flow, Why the moon with silvery light Cried, "thy work is finished, Death!" MAN. So strong is man, that with a gasping breath So young |