I'd brave the eagle's tow'ring wing,
Might I but fly without a string.”
It tugg'd and pulld (while thus it spoke),
To break the string - at last it broke.
Depriv'd at once of all its stay,
In vain it tried to soar away :
Unable its own weight to bear,
It flutter'd downward through the air ;
Unable its own course to guide,
The winds soon plung'd it in the tide.
Ah! foolish kite, thou hadst no wing;
How couldst thou fly without a string ?
My heart replied,—“O Lord, I see
How much this kite resembles me :
Forgetful that by Thee I stand,
Impatient of thy ruling hand,
How oft my foolish heart inclines
T'oppose that lot which Heav'n assigns !
How oft indulg'd a vain desire
For something more, or something higher !
And but for grace and love divine,
A fall more dreadful had been mine.

NEWTON.

Llewellyn and his Dog.
The spearman heard the bugle sound,

And cheerly smild the morn;
And many a brach* and many a hound
Attend Llewellyn's horn.

And still he blew a louder blast,

And gave a louder cheer,“Come, Gelert, why art thou the last

Llewellyn's horn to hear ?

O where does faithful Gelert roam ?

The flower of all his race !
So true, so brave- -a lamb at home,

A lion in the chase!"

That day Llewellyn little loved

The chase of hart or hare;
And scant and small the booty proved,

For Gelert was not there.

Unpleas'd Llewellyn homeward hied,

When, near the portal-seat His truant Gelert he espied,

Bounding his lord to greet.

But when he gain'd the castle-door,

Aghast the chieftain stood; The hound was smear'd with gouts of gore,

His lips and fangs ran blood !

Llewellyn gaz'd with wild surprise,

Unus'd such looks to meet ;
His favourite check’d his joyful guise,

And crouch'd and lick'd his feet.

Onward in haste Llewellyn pass’d,

(And on went Gelert too), And still where'er his eyes were cast,

Fresh blood-gouts shock'd his view!

O'erturned his infant's bed he found,

The blood-stain'd cover rent;
And all around the walls and ground

With recent blood besprent.

He call'd his child- no voice replied ;

He search'd with terror wild :
Blood! blood! he found on ev'ry side,

But no where found the child !

“ Hell-hound! by thee my child's devour'd!"

The frantic father cried ;
And to the hilt his vengeful sword

He plunged in Gelert's side!

His suppliant, as to earth he fell,

No pity could impart;
But still his Gelert's dying yell

Pass'd heavy o'er his heart.

Aroused by Gelert's dying yell,

Some slumberer waken’d nigh : What words the parent’s joy can tell

To hear his infant cry!

Conceal'd beneath a mangled heap,

His hurried search had miss'd ; All glowing from his rosy sleep,

His cherub boy he kiss'd!

Nor scratch had he, nor harm, nor dread :

But the same couch beneath
Lay a great wolf, all torn and dead-

Tremendous still in death!

Ah, what was then Llewellyn's pain !

For now the truth was clear-
The gallant hound the wolf had slain,

To save Llewellyn's heir.

Vain, vain was all Llewellyn's woe

“ Best of thy kind, adieu ! The frantic deed which laid thee low

This heart shall ever rue!”

And now a gallant tomb they raise,

With costly sculpture deck'd; And marble, storied with his praise,

Poor Gelert's bones protect.

Here never could the spearman pass,

Or forester, unmoved.
Here oft the tear-besprinkled grass
Llewellyn's sorrow proved.

And here he hung his horn and spear ;

And oft, as evening fell,
In fancy's piercing sounds, would hear

Poor Gelert's dying yell.

HON. W. SPENCER.

Prospect of Eton College.

Ye distant spires, ye antique tow'rs,

That crown the watery glade,
Where grateful science still adores

Her Henry's* holy shade;
And ye, that from the stately brow
Of Windsor's heights th' expanse below

Of grove, of lawn, of mead survey -
Whose turf, whose shade, whose flow’rs among
Wanders the hoary Thames along

His silver-winding way:

Ah, happy hills ! ah, pleasing shade!

Ah, fields belov'd in vain !
Where once my careless childhood stray'd,

A stranger yet to pain !
I feel the gales that from ye blow
A momentary bliss bestow;