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The ship had rais'd her anchor, and had lowerd,

Well knew he why, the gallant sail she boreAnd every lighter skiff had urg'd her oars,

To make the deep or hover on the shore.

How did he feel, who from the rock beheld

The pathless waters where he used to dwell, And saw the growing of that dark, dark streak,

Omen of dangers he had known so well ?

Doubtless he thought of many a begone day,

When he had seen a storm like that arise, And read the horrors of the coming night

In the wild aspect of the evening skies

Perhaps he could remember of the cries

He sometime heard upon the midnight air ; Mix'd with the restless splashing of a keel,

That when the morning open'd, was not there.

And then he had no cover but the skies,

Whence came the storm, the lightning, and the rain And then he had no firmer resting-place

Than the unstable waters of the main.

How did he feel? Ah! doubtless e'en as he,

Who from the sheltering promise of his God, Where lately he has turned him to repose,

Looks on the tried and troubled world abroad,

The brilliant colouring of its changeful scene,

Still beautiful, but not deceiving nowThe gathering of its sorrows, waited for

And watched with pensive but untroubled brow

The memory of the days when that false world

Was all his hope, his pleasure, and his stayAnd heaven's fair canopy was nought to him

But a dark menace that o'erhung his way

Oh! 'tis no more to him than the wild glare

Of the portentous sunset, or the roar
Of coming storms, to one who from the strand,

Looks on the ocean he shall cross no more.

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SHINE on, thou peerless mistress of the night,

With beams so pure, and rays so mild;
For well I know, thy shadowy mournful light,

Is welcome still to sorrow's child.

To gaze on thee, he lifts an aching eye,

As if thou could'st his woes beguile;
Fancies he hears thee answer sigh for sigh,

And sees thee greet him with a smile.

Poor wretch, the feverish pulse, the bosom's swell,

The wasted form, the haggard stare,
Whisper a tale, words may not, cannot tell,

Which yet can reach compassion's ear.

And she would fain assuage the scalding tear,

And heal the deeply rankling wound;
But there is woe so deep, it cannot hear,

Nor heed the kindest, gentlest sound.

Well, let him raise his melancholy look,

To pensive night's chaste pitying star;
May he not find some page in nature's book,

To lift his drooping spirit higher far?

For then, and not till then, shall sweetly rise,

The hope that cannot be o'erthrown,
The breeze of peace, which, native of the skies,

Loves her own atmosphere alone.

And should his chastened thoughts pursue their way,

Till his firm faith be fixed on heav'n,
The dawn shall bring to him a brighter day,

The setting sun, à calmer éven.


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Jerusalem Destroyed; or, the History of the Siege

of that City by Titus, abridged from Josephus, with brief Notices of the Jews since their dispersion, &c. By the Author of Lily Douglas, 8c. Price 3s. 6d. 1826. Oliphant and Co., Edinburgh.

Ir is with great pleasure we commend this small publication to those in particular who are yet strangers to the pages of Josephus, and to whom the perusal of his history is by no means a desirable labour: by ourselves, who could not but be familiar with it there, in this form, and at this time, and with the additions here made to it, the story of Jerusalem's destruction has been re-perused with much interest. And we cannot pass this opportunity of expressing an earnest hope that others who devote themselves to write for children, will follow the example of the author, and that she will frequently follow her own, in exchanging the bons-bons of imagination, for the solid aliment of truth. The fund of interesting narrative, useful information, pious instruction, and amusing detail, that in the manner of the present publication, might be extracted from larger works, and brought forth in a form accceptable to youth, we believe would prove exhaustless, and meet an acceptance with the publick that would requite the labour. Admitted, it is much more trouble, and much less amusing, to fathom whole volumes of matter uninteresting in itself, or become so by long familiarity, in search of something worth subtracting, than to let fly the imagination and the feelings after some pretty tale of weal or woe, with no restriction but that of saying nothing wrong and nothing impossible. But we are persuaded many authors, like the one before us, have higher objects in view than fame or money in the pains they take ; and would not think the trouble lost, that should. better subserve their purpose of directing the youthful mind, and cultivating and informing it aright. We hope our young friends, by the acceptance they give to this volume, which we strongly recommend to their perusal, will invite the publication of many more of a similar description.

The collected information respecting the subsequent

condition of the Hebrew people, and the author's remarks upon it, are a very appropriate addition to the work. The information will be new to some, and should surely have an interest in the hearts of all. We believe there are many persons, besides children, who have thought no more of the fate of the Holy City, than of the destiny of Canton or Timbuctoo; and know nothing of it beyond what they have read in Roman history. But is it possible they do not care? Is there any thing in Judah's fate indifferent to a Christian's bosom? If so, he is not of his Master's mind. For where is the passion that has dictated, where is the poet that has uttered language of such deep feeling as that with which the Spirit of God has told the story of Israel's rejection-so joyful as that in which he has predicted their return? Is the servant of God so little a partner in his Master's sentiments, as never to have felt a sorrow or a joy, or so much as a curiosity, about that for which Deity once wept on earth, and from Heaven has dictated language of such heart-moving sorrow, as is contained in the prophecies of the old Testament?

id Testament? O what a soul-petrifying thing is thoughtlessness! If any we speak to have never cared for Jerusalem before, we hope they will when they have read this beautiful little work.


A LESSON TO PROSPERITY. Worthy Master Greenham tells us of a gentlewoman, who coming into the cottage of a poor neighbour, and seeing it furnished with store of children, could say, “Here are the mouths, but where is the meat?” But not long after, she was paid in her own coin : for the poor woman, coming to her after the burial of her last and now only child, inverted the question upon her, " Here is the meat, but where are the mouths ? Bishop Hall's Works."








The Athenians were naturally much elated with this victory. Miltiades, Aristides, and Themistocles, were treated with the highest degree of gratitude and respect; but it was only to be in their turn opposed, prosecuted, and condemned. Miltiades took advantage of the moment of favour to get himself appointed to the command of an expedition against the isle of Paros; under pretence that it had lent aid to Persia, but in effect to exact money, or serve his private revenge. The Parians refused even to deliberate on the summons he sent them to surrender; the siege was vigorously laid for some time: till Miltiades, wounded, it is said by an accidental fall, and unable to accomplish his purpose, returned to Athens disgraced and defeated. To be unfortunate was at once to lose favour with the capricious and ungrateful republick. An enemy is seldom wanting to accuse the great; and Xanthippus, the father of the famous Pericles, demanded of the general assembly that Miltiades, so lately the preserver of the commonwealth, should be put to death, for having deceived the people into an impolitic expedition.



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