I

3. ALEXANDER SELKIRK.

AM monarch of all I
survey;
My right there is none to dispute;
From the centre all round to the sea
I am lord of the fowl and the brute.
O Solitude! where are the charms

That sages have seen in thy face?
Better dwell in the midst of alarms,
Than reign in this horrible place!
I am out of humanity's reach,
I must finish my journey alone,
Never hear the sweet music of speech-
I start at the sound of my own!
The beasts that roam over the plain
My form with indifference see;
They are so unacquainted with man,
Their tameness is shocking to me.

Society, friendship, and love,
Divinely bestow'd upon man,-
O had I the wings of a dove,
How soon would I taste you again!
My sorrows I then might assuage
In the ways of religion and truth;
Might learn from the wisdom of age,
And be cheered by the sallies of youth.

Religion! what treasure untold
Resides in that heavenly word!
More precious than silver and gold,
Or all that this earth can afford!

But the sound of the church-going bell
These valleys and rocks never heard,
Never sigh'd at the sound of a knell,
Or smil'd when a sabbath appear'd!

Ye winds, that have made me your sport,
Convey to this desolate shore
Some cordial endearing report

Of a land I shall visit no more.
My friends,- do they now and then send
A wish or a thought after me?

O tell me I yet have a friend,
Though a friend I am never to see!

How fleet is a glance of the mind!
Compar'd with the speed of its flight,
The tempest itself lags behind,

And the swift-winged arrows of light!
When I think of my own native land,
In a moment I seem to be there;
But, alas! recollection at hand
Soon hurries me back to despair!

But the sea-fowl is gone to her nest,
The beast is laid down in his lair;
Even here is a season of rest,
And I to my cabin repair.
There's mercy in every place;
And mercy, encouraging thought!
Gives even affliction a grace,

And reconciles man to his lot.

COWPER.

4. THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB.

THE

HE Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.

Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green, That host with their banners at sunset were seen; Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown, That host, on the morrow, lay wither'd and strown.

For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed on the face of the foe, as he pass'd; And the eyes of the sleepers wax'd deadly and chill, And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still.

And there lay the steed, with his nostril all wide,
But through it there roll'd not the breath of his pride;
And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf,
And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.

And there lay the rider, distorted and pale,
With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail;
And the tents were all silent, the banners alone,
The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.

And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail;
And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal;
And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword,
Hath melted, like snow. in the glance of the Lord.

LORD BYRON.

5. ST. PHILIP NERI AND THE YOUTH.

ST. Philip Neri, as old readings say,

Met a young stranger in Rome's streets one day; And being ever courteously inclined

To give young folks a sober turn of mind,
He fell into discourse with him: and thus
The dialogue they held comes down to us:

St. Tell me what brings you, gentle youth, to Rome?
Y. To make myself a scholar, sir, I come.
St. And, when you are one, what do you intend?
Y. To be a priest, I hope, sir, in the end.

St. Suppose it so -what have you next in view?
Y. That I may get to be a canon too.

St. Well; and how then?

Y.

Why, then, for aught I know,

I may be made a bishop.

St.
What then?

Y.

Be it so

Why, cardinal's a high degree

And yet my lot it possibly may be.
St. Suppose it was-what then?

Y.

Why who can say But I've a chance of being pope one day? St. Well, having worn the mitre, and red hat, And triple crown, what follows after that?

Y. Nay, there is nothing further to be sure, Upon this earth, that wishing can procure: When I've enjoy'd a dignity so high,

As long as God shall please, then-I must die.

St. What! must you die? fond youth! and at the best But wish and hope, and may be all the rest! Take my advice-whatever may betide, For that which must be, first of all provide; Then think of that which may be; and indeed, When well prepar'd, who knows what may succeed? But you may be, as you are pleas'd to hope, Priest, canon, bishop, cardinal, and pope.

DR. BYROM.

6. THE QUEEN OF THE MAY.

OU must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear; To-morrow 'ill be the happiest day of all the glad new year; Of all the glad new year, mother, the maddest merriest day; For I'm to be Queen of the May, mother, I'm to be Queen of the May.

There's many a black, black eye they say, but none so bright as mine;

There's Margaret and Mary, there's Kate and Caroline;

But none so fair as little Alice in all the land they say;

So I'm to be Queen of the May, mother, I'm to be Queen of the May.

I sleep so sound all night, mother, that I shall never wake,
If you do not call me loud, when the day begins to break;
But I must gather knots of flowers, and buds, and garlands gay,
For I'm to be Queen of the May, mother, I'm to be Queen of
the May.

Little Effie shall go with me to-morrow to the green,

And you'll be there. too, mother, to see me made the Queen;
The shepherd lads on every side will come from far away,
And I'm to be Queen of the May, mother, I'm to be Queen of

the May.