BEETLES.

417

BEETLES.

(A FEW VERSES, FOR VERNON WOLLASTON.)

EVERY toiler to his toil;

Life is Work in Duty's hand, Art and Nature both demand Daily labour, midnight oil :

Every workman for his work;

Art hath many, keen of skill,— Nature showing whom she will Where her inner secrets lurk:

Every scholar to his task;

Know'st thou not thy special page To be conned from youth to age? Ask that knowledge, meekly ask,—

Ask it of the Heaven above,

Ask it of the Earth below,

Ask thy heart and mind, and so Follow on in faith and love.

Thou shalt thus be taught to find
There is some good work and true
For thy proper hand to do

Suited to thy heart and mind.

-What is ours?-Well, that depends; Mine, at this peculiar time

Is,-in reason tagged with rhyme Just to touch on what's my friend's:

Beetles are his special care;
Beetles, shining in the sun,
Beetles, as they crawl or run,
Beetles, beetles everywhere!

Beetles, huge as bats or birds,
Beetles, small as dust of earth,

Beetles, of Madeiran birth,

Beetles, from the Cape de Verdes,

Beetles, in Nilotic mud,

Beetles, from the bright Azores, Beetles new on British shores, Beetles older than the Flood!

Beetles!-does this trivial seem?—
Yet philosophers may spend

All their lives from end to end,
But shall not exhaust that theme.

GOD in all His works is great,
Greatest in the smallest things;
And the lowest creature brings
Homage to His Highest State.

DIEU ET MON DROIT.

Note these microscopic spots,
By our Wollaston defin'd

Each a miracle of mind,
One of God's forget-me-nots!

Yea, the meanest thing that crawls,-
Vermin be it, if men will,—

As a marvel of deep skill

Is praised in the Celestial Halls!

Then, high-hearted Wollaston,

Still work on in love and faith,
For to thee GOD surely saith
Servant, good and true, well-done!

419

DIEU ET MON DROIT.

No fanciful hope, and no cowardly fear
Shall ever be lord of my breast,

An Englishman gathers his comfort and cheer
From Duty by Providence blest;
The good royal motto, from Normandy won,
Upholds him by day and by night,
Adversity's moon, and Prosperity's sun,

Are shining in "GOD and my Right!"

My GOD! the great Guard, the Good Ruler, and Friend, Who made me, and guides as He will;

My Right! which His government helps to defend, And bids me stand up for it still:

The heart that has trusted Him well does He love,
And fills it with heavenly light,

Rejoiced upon earth with all peace from above,
And resting on "GOD and my Right!"

My Right-the right way, and my Right-the right arm,
And my Right-the true rights of the case,-
Strong, honest, deserving, the triple-tied charm
That keeps a man firm in his place;

With these well about us, and GOD overhead,
We fear not whatever we fight,

There never was mortal who fail'd or who fled,
Whose motto was "GOD and my Right!"

THE LAUREL CROWN.

THE laurel crown! for duty done,
For good achieved, and honours won,
For all of natural gift, or art,

That thrills and fills an earnest heart
With generous thoughts and stirring words
Struck from its own electric chords,—
On these your modern muses frown,
Yet these deserve the laurel crown!

The laurel crown! for soaring song
Eagle-pinion'd, free, and strong,
That, as GOD gives grace and power
Consecrates each hallow'd hour

AN ESCAPE.

Wisely, as a patriot ought,

By burning word and glowing thought,—
On this pour all your honours down-
To this belongs the laurel crown!

The laurel crown! in common eyes
A wreath of leaves, a paltry prize,
A silly, worthless, weed-like thing,
Fit coronet for folly's king:

The laurel crown! in wisdom's ken

A call from GOD to waken men,

Lest in these mammon depths they drown,-
This is thy glory, laurel crown!

Yes, laurel crown! if seen aright
A majesty of moral might
To lead the masses on to good,
And rule the surging multitude
By nobler and more manly songs
Than to some troubadour belongs,
Who feebly warbles for renown,—
Not such be thou my laurel crown!

421

AN ESCAPE.

AN hour of peril in the Lydstep caves:
Down the steep gorge, grotesquely boulder-piled
And tempest-worn, as Ocean hurrying wild
Up it in thunder breaks and vainly raves,———