KING BRUCE of Scotland flung himself down
In a lonely mood to think;

"Tis true he was monarch, and wore a crown,
But his heart was beginning to sink.

For he had been trying to do a great deed
To make his people glad,

He had tried and tried, but couldn't succeed,
And so he became quite sad.

He flung himself down in low despair,
As grieved as man could be;

And after a while as he pondered there,
"I'll give it all up,” said he.

Now just at the moment a spider dropped,

With its silken cobweb clue,

And the king in the midst of his thinking stopped
To see what the spider would do.

"Twas a long way up to the ceiling dome,
And it hung by a rope so fine,
That how it would get to its cobweb home,
King Bruce could not divine.

It soon began to cling and crawl

Straight up with strong endeavour,
But down it came, with a slipping sprawl,
As near to the ground as ever.

Up, up it ran, not a second it stayed,
To utter the least complaint,
Till it fell still lower, and there it laid,
A little dizzy and faint.

Its head grew steady-again it went,
And travelled a half yard higher,
"Twas a delicate thread it had to tread,
And a road where its feet would tire.

Again it fell and swung below,
But again it quickly mounted,
Till up and down, now fast, now slow,
Nine brave attempts were counted.

"Sure," cried the king,

"that foolish thing

Will strive no more to climb,

When it toils so hard to reach and cling,
And tumbles every time."

NEVER GIVE UP.

But up the insect went once more,
Ah me, 'tis an anxious minute,
He's only a foot from his cobweb door,
Oh, say will he lose or win it !

Steadily, steadily, inch by inch,
Higher and higher he got,

And a bold little run at the very last pinch,
Put him into his native spot.

"Bravo, bravo!" the king cried out,
"All honour to those who try,
The spider up there defied despair,
He conquered, and why shouldn't I?"

And Bruce of Scotland braced his mind.
And gossips tell the tale,

That he tried once more as he tried before,
And that time he did not fail.

Pay goodly heed, all you who read,
And beware of saying, "I can't,"
"Tis a cowardly word, and apt to lead
To Idleness, Folly and Want.
Whenever you find your heart despair
Of doing some goodly thing,

Con over this strain, try bravely again,
And remember the Spider and King.

151

ELIZA COOK.

XXII. NEVER GIVE UP.

"MAN, amidst the fluctuations of his own feelings and of passing events, ought to resemble the ship, which currents may carry and winds may impel from her course, but which, amidst every deviation, still presses onward to her port with unremitted perseverance. In the coolness of reflection, he ought to survey his affairs with a dispassionate and comprehensive eye, and, having fixed on his plan, take the necessary steps to accomplish it, regardless of the temporary mutations of his mind, the monotony of the same track, the apathy of exhausted attention, or the blandishments of new projects."-Essays on the Formation and Publication of Opinions.

NEVER give up! it is wiser and better
Always to hope, than once to despair!
Fling off the load of Doubt's heavy fetter,
And break the dark spell of tyrannical care:

Never give up! or the burthen may sink you,—
Providence kindly has mingled the cup,
And in all trials or troubles, bethink you,

The watchword of life must be, Never give up!
Never give up! there are chances and changes
Helping the hopeful a hundred to one,
And through the chaos High Wisdom arranges
Ever success, if you'll only hope on:
Never give up! for the wisest is boldest,
Knowing that Providence mingles the cup,
And of all maxims the best, as the oldest,
Is the true watchword of Never give up.
Never give up! though the grape-shot may rattle,
Or the full thunder-cloud over you burst:
Stand like a rock,-and the storm or the battle
Little shall harm you, though doing the worst:
Never give up! if adversity presses,

Providence wisely has mingled the cup,
And the best counsel in all your distresses,
Is the stout watchword of Never give up!

TUPPER'S Ballads and Poems.

XXIII. COURAGE!

A BALLAD FOR TROUBLOUS TIMES.

"TRUST thyself: every heart vibrates to that iron string. Accept the place the divine Providence has found for you; the society of your contemporaries, the connexion of events. Great men have always done so, and confided themselves childlike to the genius of their age, betraying their perception that the Eternal was stirring at their heart, working through their hands, predominating in all their being. And we are now men and must accept in the highest mind the same transcendent destiny; and not pinched in a corner, not cowards fleeing before a revolution, but redeemers and benefactors, pious aspirants to be noble clay; plastic under the Almighty effort, let us advance and advance on Chaos and the Dark."-R. W. Emerson.

DANGERS do not dare me,

Terrors cannot scare me,
God my guide, I'll bear me
Manfully for ever.

Trouble's darkest hour

Shall not make me cower

To the Spectre's power,

Never, never, never!

REST CURE FOR TROUBLE.

Up, my heart, and brace thee,
While the perils face thee,
In thyself encase thee

Manfully for ever.

Foes may howl around me,

Fears hunt and hound me,→

may

Shall their yells confound me?
Never, never, never!

Constant, calm, unfearing,

Boldly persevering,

In good conscience steering

Manfully for ever,

Winds and waves defying,

And on God relying,

Shall He find me flying?

Never, never, never!

153

TUPPER'S Ballads and Poems.

XXIV. BEST CURE FOR TROUBLE.

"THE great principle of human satisfaction is engagement. It is a most just distinction, which the late Mr. Tucker has dwelt upon so largely in his works, between pleasures in which we are passive, and pleasures in which we are active. And, I believe, every attentive observer of human life will assent to his position, that however grateful the sensations may occasionally be in which we are passive, it is not these but the latter class of our pleasures which constitutes satisfaction; which supply that regular stream of moderate and miscellaneous enjoyments in which happiness, as distinguished from voluptuousness consists."-Paley.

WORK, work, my boy, be not afraid,
Look labour boldly in the face;
Take up the hammer or the spade,
And blush not for your humble place.
There's glory in the shuttle's song-
There's triumph in the anvil's stroke;
There's merit in the brave and strong
Who dig the mine or fell the oak.
The wind disturbs the sleeping lake,
And bids it ripple pure and fresh ;
It moves the green boughs till they make
Grand music in their leafy mesh.

And so the active breath of life
Should stir our dull and sluggard wills,
For are we not created rife

With health that stagnant torpor kills.

I doubt if he who lolls his head,
Where Idleness and Plenty meet,
Enjoys his pillow or his bread,
As those who earn the meals they eat.

ELIZA COOK.

XXV. GO ON!

"Look not mournfully into the Past. It comes not back again. Wisely improve the Present: it is thine.

Go forth to meet the shadowy Future without fear and with a manly heart."—Longfellow.

Go on! go on! no moments wait
To help the right;

Be strong in faith, and emulate
The virtues of the good and great
With all thy might

Go on!