And so never ending, but always descending, Sounds and motions forever and ever are blending, All at once and all o'er, with a mighty uproar ;And this way the water comes down at Lodore.

IF

ROBERT SOUTHEY.

YOUR MISSION.

F you cannot on the ocean
Sail among the swiftest fleet,
Rocking on the highest billows,
Laughing at the storms you meet,
You can stand among the sailors,
Anchored yet within the bay,
You can lend a hand to help them,
As they launch their boats away.
If you are too weak to journey,

Up the mountain, steep and high,
You can stand within the valley,
While the multitudes go by.
You can chant in happy measure,
As they slowly pass along;
Though they may forget the singer
They will not forget the song.
If you have not gold and silver
Ever ready to command,
If you cannot toward the needy
Reach an ever open hand,
You can visit the afflicted,

O'er the erring you can weep,
You can be a true disciple,
Sitting at the Saviour's feet.

If

you cannot in the conflict

Prove yourself a soldier true,

If where the fire and smoke are thickest,
There's no work for you to do,
When the battle-field is silent,

You can go with careful tread,
You can bear away the wounded,
You can cover up the dead.

Do not then stand idly waiting
For some greater work to do,
Fortune is a lazy goddess,

She will never come to you.
Go and toil in any vineyard,
Do not fear to do or dare,
If you want a field of labor,
You can find it anywhere.

OUR DUTIES TO OUR COUNTRY.

THIS lovely land, this glorious liberty, these benign in

stitutions, the dear purchase of our fathers, are ours; ours to enjoy, ours to preserve, ours to transmit. Generations past, and generations to come, hold us responsible for this sacred trust. Our fathers, from behind, admonish us, with their anxious paternal voices; posterity calls out to us, from the bosom of the future; the world turns hither its solicitous eyes-all, all conjure us to act wisely, and faithfully, in the relations which we sustain.

We can never, indeed, pay the debt which is upon us, but by virtue, by morality, by religion, by the cultivation of every good principle and every good habit, we may hope to enjoy the blessing through our day, and to leave it

unimpaired to our children. Let us feel deeply how much of what we are, and what we possess, we owe to this liberty, and these institutions of government.

Nature has, indeed, given us a soil which yields bounteously to the hands of industry; the mighty and fruitful ocean is before us, and the skies over our heads shed health and vigor. But what are lands, and seas, and skies, to civilized man, without society, without knowledge, without morals, without religious culture? And how can these be enjoyed, in all their extent, and all their excellence, but under the protection of wise institutions and a free government?

Fellow-citizens, there is not one of us here present who does not, at this moment, and at every moment, experience in his own condition, and in the condition of those most near and dear to him, the influence and the benefits of this liberty and these institutions. Let us then acknowledge the blessing; let us feel it deeply and powerfully; let us cherish a strong affection for it, and resolve to maintain and perpetuate it. The blood of our fathers, let it not have been shed in vain; the great hope of posterity, let it not be blasted. WEBSTER.

MARMION AND DOUGLAS.

THE train from out the castle drew,

66

But Marmion stopp'd to bid adieu:

Though something I might plain," he said, "Of cold respect to stranger guest,

Sent hither by your king's behest,

While in Tantallon's towers I stay'd,
Part we in friendship from your land,
And, noble Earl, receive my hand."

But Douglas round him drew his cloak,
Folded his arms, and thus he spoke:
"My manors, halls, and bowers shall still
Be open, at my sovereign's will,
To each one whom he lists, how'er
Unmeet to be the owner's peer.

My castles are my king's alone,
From turret to foundation-stone;
The hand of Douglas is his own,
And never shall in friendly grasp
The hand of such as Marmion clasp."

Burn'd Marmion's swarthy cheek like fire,
And shook his very frame for ire,
And, "This to me !" he said;
"An 'twere not for thy hoary beard,
Such hand as Marmion's had not spared
To cleave the Douglas' head!
And, first, I tell thee, haughty Peer,
He who does England's message here,
Although the meanest in her State,
May well, proud Angus, be thy mate:
And, Douglas, more I tell thee here,
Even in thy pitch of pride,
Here in thy hold, thy vassals near
(Nay, never look upon your lord,
And lay your hands upon your sword,)
I tell thee, thou'rt defied!

And, if thou said'st I am not peer
To any lord in Scotland here,
Lowland or Highland, far or near,
Lord Angus, thou hast lied!"

On the Earl's cheek the flush of rage
O'ercame the ashen hue of age;

Fierce he broke forth, " And darest thou then To beard the lion in his den,

The Douglas in his hall?

And hopest thou hence unscathed to go?
No, by Saint Bride of Bothwell, no!

Up drawbridge, grooms,-what, Warder, ho!
Let the portcullis fall."

Lord Marmion turn'd,-well was his need!-
And dash'd the rowels in his steed,
Like arrow through the archway sprung;
The ponderous gate behind him rung:
To pass there was such scanty room,
The bars, descending, razed his plume.
The steed along the drawbridge flies,
Just as it trembled on the rise;
Not lighter does the swallow skim
Along the smooth lake's level brim;

And, when Lord Marmion reached his band,
He halts, and turns with clenched hand,
And shout of loud defiance pours,

And shook his gauntlet at the towers.

SIR WALTER SCOTT.

PICTURES OF MEMORY.

MONG the beautiful pictures

That hang on Memory's wall,

Is one of a dim old forest,

That seemeth best of all. Not for its gnarl'd oaks olden,

Dark with the mistletoe;

Not for the violets golden

That sprinkle the vale below;