"What! give back their souls to these freemen enthrall'd?

Then give them the ballot !" o'er Scotland he call'd ;

Concede it, proud traitors! obtain it, thou thrall— Thou robb'd of the land which the Lord made for all! Obtain it, ye millions, who labour for drones! Concede it, ye despots, who feast on their groans !"

The Lords of Misrule and their Master turn'd pale; The tyrant-eyed viper seem'd weak as the snail;

The bones of the murder'd for freedom came forth From their far-sever'd graves, with a growl like the north;*

Of millions awaking the murmur was deep;

And the face of the bard was like lightning asleep.

So hovers the eagle o'er summits of light,
Which, touch'd by his shadow, start up in affright;
While, girt by the peaks where the storm sinks to rest,
Loch Oich sees Ben Nevis sink down in the west,
When o'er the dark glare of the sky-painted lake,
Frown Coryuragen and Coriaraick.+

* The martyrs Muir, Palmer, Skirving, Gerald, and Margarot, all died in exile, except the latter, who perished for want of bread in London!!!

+ Two mountains of Scotland near the source of the Ness.

ROCH ABBEY GATEWAY.

WHAT dost thou here, lorn Ireland's dying daughter?
These holy walls, that erst, with open door

Welcomed the pilgrim-offering bread and water,
Prayer, rest, and counsel, to the way-worn poor-
Now mute and barren as the manless moor,
Would not, to Christ himself, afford a crumb !
Perish, unheard, thou spurn'd of lord and boor!
Poor Erin's waif! be Supplication dumb
Where Charity is deaf. At hallow'd gates
Hop'st thou for succour? Outcast! over them
Mourns ivied Ruin; or, within them, waits
Obstruction loop'd and ring'd with gold and gem;
And Mammon, plotting woe to harpied states,
Scowls from beneath his cloven diadem.

Fair was she, and her famish'd child was like her;
Nought lovelier
mourns beneath the laughing

skies.

As I approach'd, I saw the baby strike her ; *

It raged for food, while tears gushed from her

eyes!

Why did she marry, in the land of sighs,

* "I saw a baby beat its dying mother;

I had starved the one, and was starving the other!"

COLERIDGE.

Where crimes, call'd laws, made by the lawless, named
Her child "Benoni ?" Let the basely wise
Say, rather, why, self-duped and unashamed,

They curse God's blessings; and, with blasphemies,
Hallow the arrow at our vitals aim'd,

Lauding the madness that makes precious things,
Yea, things most precious, worthless! Heav'n is
blamed,

And hope and action droop their palsied wings,
Because our lords are bread-tax-eating kings.

LEAVES AND MEN.

DROP, drop into the grave, Old Leaf,
Drop, drop into the grave;

Thy acorn's grown, thy acorn's sown—
Drop, drop into the grave.
December's tempests rave, Old Leaf,
Above thy forest-grave, Old Leaf;
Drop, drop into the grave!

The birds, in spring, will sweetly sing

That death alone is sad;

The grass will grow, the primrose show
That death alone is sad.

Lament above thy grave, Old Leaf!

For what has life to do with grief?

'Tis death alone that's sad.

What then? We two have both lived through

The sunshine and the rain;

And bless'd be He, to me and thee,

Who sent his sun and rain!

We've had our sun and rain, Old Leaf,

And God will send again, Old Leaf,
The sunshine and the rain.

Race after race of leaves and men,
Bloom, wither, and are gone;
As winds and waters rise and fall,

So life and death roll on ;

And long as ocean heaves, Old Leaf,

And bud and fade the leaves, Old Leaf,

Will life and death roll on.

How like am I to thee, Old Leaf !

We'll drop together down;

How like art thou to me, Old Leaf!

We'll drop together down.

I'm gray and thou art brown, Old Leaf!
We'll drop together down, Old Leaf,

We'll drop together down!

Drop, drop into the grave, Old Leaf,
Drop, drop into the grave;

Thy acorn's grown, thy acorn's sown-
Drop, drop into the grave.

December's tempests rave, Old Leaf,
Above thy forest grave, Old Leaf;
Drop, drop into the grave!

WILLIAM.

"LIFT, lift me up! my broken heart

Must speak before I go:

O Mother! it is death to part

From you-I love you so!

"The doctor shunn'd my eyes, and brook'd Few words from my despair;

But through and through his heart I look'd, And saw my coffin there.

"You did not tell me I should die,

You fear'd your child would grieve;

But I am dying! One is nigh

Whom kindness can't deceive.