THE MOONLIGHT MARCH.

I see them on their winding way,
About their ranks the moonbeams play ;
Their lofty deeds and daring high
Blend with the notes of victory.
And waving arms, and banners bright,
Are glancing in the mellow light:
They're lost, and gone ; the moon is past,
The wood's dark shade is o'er them cast;
And fainter, fainter, fainter still
The march is rising o'er the hill.
Again, again the pealing drum,
The clashing horn—they come, they come ;
Through rocky pass, o'er wooded steep,
In long and glittering files they sweep.
And nearer, nearer, yet more near,
Their softened chorus meets the ear;
Forth, forth, and meet thern on their way;
The trampling hoofs brook no delay;
With thrilling fife and pealing drum,
And clashing horn, they come, they come.

LINES.

REFLECTED on the lake I love

To see the stars of evening glow, So tranquil in the heavens above,

So restless in the wave below.

Thus heavenly hope is all serene,

But earthly hope, how bright soe'er, Still Auctuates o'er this changing scene,

As false and fleeting as 't is fair.

FAREWELL.

WHEN eyes are beaming

What never tongue might tell; When tears are streaming

From their crystal cell; When hands are linked that dread to part, And heart is met by throbbing heart, O, bitter, bitter is the smart

Of them that bid farewell.

When hope is chidden

That fain of bliss would tell,
And love forbidden

In the breast to dwell ;
Whep fettered by a viewless chain,
We turn and gaze, and turn again,
0, death were mercy to the pain

Of them that bid farewell.

VESPERS.

God, that madest Earth and Heaven,

Darkness and light,
Who the day for toil hast given,

For rest the night,
May thine angel guards defend us,
Slumber sweet thy mercy send us,
Holy dreams and hopes attend us,

This livelong night.

TO

LIEUTENANT

GENERAL

SIR

ROWLAND HILL, K. B.

HILL, whose high daring with renewed success Hath cheered our tardy war, what time the

cloud Of expectation, dark and comfortless, Hung on the mountains ; and yon factious crowd Blasphenied their country's valor, babbling loud; Then was thine arm revealed, to whose young

might, By Toulon's leaguered wall, the fiercest bowed; Whom Egypt honored, and the dubious fight Of Sad Corunna's winter, and more bright Douro, and Talavera’s gory bays; Wise, modest, brave, in danger foreniost found. O still, young warrior,may thy toil-earned praise, With England's love, and England's honor

crowned, Gild with delight thy father's latter days.