If chance on heavy pinions slowly borne,
A tempest usher in the dreadful morn,
Upon his dungeon walls the lightning play,
The thunder seems to summon him away,
The warder at the door his key applies,
Shoots back the bolt, and all his courage dies;
If then, just then, all thoughts of mercy lost,
When hope, long lingering, at last yields the ghost,
The sound of pardon pierce his startled ear,
He drops at once his fetters and his fear;
A transport glows in all he looks and speaks,
And the first thankful tears bedew his cheeks.
Joy, far superior joy, that much outweighs
The comfort of a few poor added days,
Invades, possesses, and o'erwhelms the soul
Of him, whom hope has with a touch made
whole;

'Tis heav'n, all heav'n descending on the wings
Of the glad legions of the King of kings;
'Tis more 'tis God diffused through every part,
'Tis God himself triumphant in his heart.
Oh! welcome now the sun's once hated light,
His noon-day beams were never half so bright.
Not kindred minds alone are call'd to employ
Their hours, their days, in listening to his joy;
Unconscious nature, all that he surveys,
Rocks, groves, and streams, must join him in
his praise.

EVENING PRAYER.

DALE.

SHOULD Some seraph wing his flight
From the realms of cloudless light,

Earth and ocean soaring over,
Where would he delight to hover?

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Not cer halls of regal pride;
Fat c'er fields with carnage dyed,
Where, mid shouts of triumph breathing,
Fame the hero's brow is wreathing;

Nat e'er cells of letter'd age;
Not o'er haunts of hoary sage;
Not where youthful poet stealing,
Woes the muse's warm revealing;

Not o'er wood or shadowy vale
Were the lover tells his tale,
And the blush-love's fondest token-
Speaks what words had never spoken:

Not where music's silver sound
Wakes the dormant echoes round,
And with charms as pure as tender
Holds the heart in pleas'd surrender.

Jer the calm sequestered spot,
O'er the lone and lowly cot,
Where, its little hands enwreathing,
Childhood's guileless prayer is breathing;
While the gentle mother nigh,
Paints her daughter's prayer on high,
To the God whose goodness gave her,
To the God whose love shall save her:-

There, awhile, the Son of Light
Would arrest his rapid flight;
Thence would bear, to heaven ascending,
Prayers with heartfelt praises blending.

RIGHT OF THE POOR TO EDUCATION.

WORDSWORTH.

OH for the coming of that glorious time
When prizing knowledge as her noblest wealth
And best protection, this imperial realm,
While she exacts allegiance, shall admit
An obligation, on her part, to teach
Them who are born to serve her and obey;
Binding herself by statute to secure

For all the children whom her soil maintains
The rudiments of letters, and to inform
The mind with moral and religious truth,
Both understood and practised,-so that none,
However destitute, be left to droop
By timely culture unsustained, or run
Into a wild disorder; or be forced

To drudge through weary life without the aid
Of intellectual implements and tools;
A savage horde among the civilized,
A servile band among the lordly free;
This right, as sacred almost as the right
To exist and be supplied with sustenance
And means of life, the lisping babe proclaims
To be inherent in him, by Heaven's will,
For the protection of his innocence;
And the rude boy-who, having overpast
The sinless age, by conscience is enrolled,
Yet mutinously knits his angry brow,
And lifts his wilful hand, on mischief bent,
Or turns the sacred faculty of speech
To impious use-by process indirect
Declares his due, while he makes known his need.

-This sacred right is fruitlessly announced,
This universal plea in vain addressed,

To eyes and ears of parents who themselves
Did, in the time of their necessity,

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Urge it in rain; and, therefore, like a prayer
That from the humblest floor ascends to heaven,
mounts to reach the state's parental ear;
Who, if indeed she own a mother's heart,
And be not most unfeelingly devoid
Of gratitude to Providence, will grant

The unquestionable good; which, England, safe
Frem interference of external force,

May grant at leisure; without risk incurred
That what in wisdom for herself she doth
Others shall e'er be able to undo.

Look! and behold from Calpe's sun-burnt cliffs
To the fat margin of the Baltic sea,
Long-reverenced titles cast away as weeds;
Laws overturned,-and territory split;
Like fields of ice rent by the polar wind
And forced to join in less obnoxious shapes,
Which, ere they gain consistence, by a gust
Of the same breath are shatter'd and destroyed.
Meantime the sovereignty of these fair isles
Remains entire and indivisible;

And, if that ignorance were removed, which acts
Within the compass of their several shores
To breed commotion and disquietude,
Each might preserve the beautiful repose
Of heavenly bodies shining in their spheres.
-The discipline of slavery is unknown
Amongst us,-hence the more do we require
The discipline of virtue; order else
Cannot subsist, nor confidence, nor peace,

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