CALMNESS was on the summer sea,

Its breast as heaven was bright,

The good ship bore on gallantly,
Laving its sides with light.

The land put on the skies rich hue,

Waxed cloud-like, beautiful and dim,

Fainter, and fainter, still it grew

Into the gold enamelled blue,

Which shaded from the summit's rim.

Night closed about the ship, no sound

Save of the plashing sea

Was heard, the waters all around

Murmured so pleasantly,

You would have thought the mermaids sang

Down in their coral caves,

So softly, and so sweetly rang

The music of the waves.

Slowly the watch paced o'er the deck,

Humming some joyous air,

How could he in such calmness reck

The coming of despair,

The good ship bore on steadily,

Through the faint murmurs of the sea.

But hark! the night is startled by a scream,
Is it some lonely sea-mew overhead?
Smoke rolls up darkly from the hold, a gleam
Athwart the wide spread swan-wing sails is shed;

It stretches round a blazing pyramid,

Burning up the darkness with a lurid red.

The breaking billows catch the light,

And roll it far into the night;

Fainter, and fainter, still they grow,

As sinks the fierce devouring glow.
The masts amid a fiery rain.

Fall hissing in the tranquil main,
The fire upon the ship burns low.

The sun from out the eastern sea
Comes diademed with light,
The waves upleaping in the lee,
Are in his splendor bright;
And drifting slowly onward lo!
A blackened hull is left to show
The horrors of the night.

MARY'S DREAM.

ALEXANDER LOWE.

THE moon had climb'd the highest hill
Which rises o'er the source of Dee,

And from the eastern summit shed

Her silver light o'er tower and tree: When Mary laid her down to sleep,

Her thoughts on Sandy far at sea; When soft and low a voice was heard

Say, "Mary, weep no more for me!"

She from her pillow gently raised

Her head, to ask who there might be She saw young Sandy shivering stand, With visage pale and hollow e'e. "O Mary dear! cold is my clay, It lies beneath a stormy sea; Far, far from thee I sleep in death, So, Mary, weep no more for me!

"Three stormy nights and stormy days We toss'd upon the raging main ; And long we strove our bark to save, But all our striving was in vain.

E'en then, when horror chill'd my blood, My heart was fill'd with love for thee; The storm is past, and I at rest,

So, Mary, weep no more for me!

"O maiden dear, thyself prepare,

We soon shall meet upon that shore Where love is free from doubt and care, And thou and I shall part no more." Loud crow'd the cock, the shadow fled, No more of Sandy could she see; But soft the passing spirit said,

"Sweet Mary, weep no more for me!"

THERE'S VAE LUCK ABOUT THE HOUSE.

W. J. MICKLE.

AND are ye sure the news is true?
And are ye sure he's weel?

Is this a time to think o' wark?
Ye jades, fling by your wheel.
Is this a time to think o' wark,

When Colin's at the door?

Gie me my cloak,-I'll to the quay,

And see him come ashore.

For there's nae luck about the house,

There's nae luck ava';

There's little pleasure in the house,
When our gudeman's awa'.

And gie me down my biggonet,
My bishop-satin gown,

And rin and tell the bailie's wife

That Colin's come to town.

My Sunday shoon they maun gae on,
My hose o' pearl blue ;