Around he turns his wond'ring eyes,
All Nature's works surveys;
Admires the earth! the skies! himself!
And tries his tongue in praise.

Ye hills and vales! ye meads and woods,
Bright sun, and glittering stars!
Fair creatures, tell me if you can,
From whence, and what I am * ?

What parent power, all great and good,
Do these around me own ;
Tell me, Creation, tell me how
T'adore the vast Unknown!

INSCRIPTION ON A HERMITAGE,

In the Centre of a Copse, intersected by irregular Walks, at Micclesfield Green, Herts, the Residence of Lord

Edward Bentinck.

BY THE AUTHOR OF CALVARY.

HERE sleep, Ambition! be this cell thy tomb;-
Vanish, and give the calmer passions room.
Avaunt, vain world! this solitary grove
Nor fears thy malice, nor invites thy love.
And, though like thine its dark and winding maze
"Tangles our path, and for a while betrays,
Let patience guide, and, one short trial past,
Content fhall greet us in this spot at last.

According to the MS. copy.

SPEDLIN CASTLE*.

A BALLAD.

HEARD ye the shriek from yonder hill?
Heard ye the hollow roar?
Ah! never shall that shriek be still,
Within the Massy Moor.

Sir Porteous was a daring knight;
Jardine a baron bold;

Sir Porteous became his thrall in fight,
And was flung in prison-hold.

His ransom in gold was sent by sea,
And the day approached fast,
Which should set our knight at liberty—

But that day it prov'd his last.

"One of the most noted apparitions is supposed to haunt SPEDLIN'S castle, near Lochmaben, the ancient baronial residence of the JARDINES of Applegirth. It is said, that in exercise of his territorial jurisdiction, one of the ancient lairds had imprisoned, in the Massy More, or dungeon of the castle, a person named Porteous. Being called suddenly to Edinburgh, the laird discovered, as he entered the west port, that he had brought along with him the key of the dungeon. Struck with the utmost horror, he sent back his servant to relieve the prisoner, but it was too late. The wretched being was found lying upon the steps, descending from the door of the vault, starved to death. In the agonies of hunger he had gnawed the flesh from one of his arms. That his spectre should haunt the castle, was a natural consequence of such a tragedy." Minstrelsy, S. B. Vol. I. p. 79.

+ The dungeon of the castle.

The knight awoke; the timely cock
Told how the morning wore;
No baron turn'd the massy lock,
Which secur'd his prison-door.

He listen'd till the waning light
Scarce shew'd the dungeon wall;
He listen'd through an age of night-
No foot was heard to fall.

Unworthy chief, Sir Porteous cried,
Are these thy fierce alarms?
And are the brave by hunger tried,
Whom thou hast prov'd in arms?

Or has some dire mischance assail'd
The knight who holds me here ?
Tis so he would not else have fail'd
To bring my prison-cheer.

Loudly he call'd-the warder ran
Lamenting to the door;

"Alas! alas! thou wretched man,
"Thou art dead in Massy-Moor.

"Sir Jardine to the south is gone,
"He thinks no whit of thee;
"Nor recks, alas! that he alone
"Still kept thy prison key.

"And here be thy brothers come over the sea, "With jewels and gold in store;

"How fondly they trusted to ransom thee! "But they never shall see thee more."

He said 'Twas all the knight could hear;
He sank upon the ground;
His eye, unmoisten'd by a tear,
Glar'd sightlessly around.

His arms are fallen upon his knees,
His head upon his breast;'
His sense benumbing horrors freeze
To slumber-not to rest

As when, to tend her only child,
Some mother, scarce awake,
Turns to the babe with action mild,
But sees a deadly snake;

So started Jardine, when the key
Appear❜d below his cloak;
Upon his horse again sprang he,
And not a word he spoke.

And he has gallop'd night and day
As Pity were his steed,
Till he has measur'd back his way;-
The knight was past that need.

From the dark dungeon he is borne,
His mouth is stain'd with blood;
And from his arms the flesh is torn-
An ineffectual food.

Since when, each night, on yonder hill,
Resounds that hollow roar;

And never shall those shrieks be still,
Within the Massy-Moor.

J. BOADEN.

HYMN *.

BY DR. HAWKESWORTH.

IN Sleep's serene oblivion laid,
I safely pass'd the silent night;
At once I see the breaking shade,
And drink again the morning light.

New born-I bless the waking hour,
Once more, with awe, rejoice to be;
My conscious soul resumes her power,
And springs, my gracious God, to thee.

O, guide me through the various maze,
My doubtful feet are doom'd to tread ;
And spread thy shield's protecting blaze,
When dangers press around my head.

A deeper shade will soon impend,

A deeper sleep my eyes oppress;
Yet still thy strength shall me defend,
Thy goodness still shall deign to bless.

That deeper shade shall fade away,

That deeper sleep shall leave my eyes;

Thy light shall give eternal day!

Thy love the rapture of the skies!

Composed about a month before his death, and dictated to Mrs. H- before he rose in the morning.