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Q. Ocean, what rules thy swell and fall?
A. The might of Him that ruleth all.

Q. Planets, what guides you in your course? A. Unseen, unfelt, unfailing force.

Q. O life, what is thy breath?
A. A vapour, vanishing in death.

Q. O death, where ends thy strife?
A. In everlasting life.

Q. O grave, where is thy victory?
A. Ask HIM who rose again from me.

DISCRETION THE BETTER PART OF

VALOUR.

A NEW SONG OF ANCIENT PISTOL'S.

BY HORATIO SMITH, ESQ.

One of the Authors of the " Rejected Addresses."

ONE day, as I was strutting, with my customary swagger, A puppy cried out," Pistol! you're a coward, though a bragger :"

Now, this was an indignity no gentleman could take,

Sir !

So I told him, pat and plump,-" you lie ! under a mistake, Sir !"

Fools may be fool-hardy, still, but men like me are wiser,

And if we get a fighting fame, it is for fighting shy, Sir!

Said I," Sir, if you take the wall, you take it to your ruin ;"

Then forth he popped his knuckles, and he gave my nose a screwing:

"Zounds and fury!" bellows I, "there's no bearing this, at all, Sir !"

So I lifted up my cane, and I gave the rogue

the

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DISCRETION THE BETTER PART OF VALOUR. 63

Fools may be fool-hardy still, but men like me are wiser,

And if we get a fighting fame, it is for fighting shy, Sir!

I told him, for his insolence I must have satisfaction, When he gave me such a kick that it drove me to distraction;

My patience now was overcome, so nobody will wonder That I doubled up my fist, and immediately knocked

. under !

Fools may be fool-hardy still, but men like me are

wiser,

And if we get a fighting fame, it is for fighting shy, Sir!

GLASTONBURY ABBEY AND WELLS

CATHEDRAL.

Written after viewing the Ruins of the one, and hearing the Church Service, in the other.

BY THE REV. W. LISLE BOWLES.

GLORY and boast of Avalon's fair vale,
How beautiful thy ancient turrets rose !
Fancy yet sees them, in the sunshine pale
Gleaming, or more majestic in repose,-
When, west-away, the crimson landscape glows,
Casting their shadows on the waters wide,*
How sweet the sounds, that, at still day-light's
close,

* The Vale of Avalon was surrounded by waters at the time. King Arthur is described as buried in the Island of Avalon. Part of a sculptured lion remains; and it may be observed, that Leland, in his Itinerary, speaks of "Duo Leones sub pedibus Arthuri.” The masonry over the sacred well, discovered by Mr. Warner, is eminently beautiful.

It is a singular fact, that the last meeting of the Bible Society was held amidst the august desolation of Glastonbury Abbey.

Came, blended with the airs of eventide,

When, through the glimmering aisle,

faint "

MISERE

RES" died!

But all is silent now!-silent the bell

That, heard from yonder ivied turret high, Warned the cowled brother from his midnight

cell;

Silent the vesper-chaunt―the litany

Responsive to the organ!-scattered lie

The wrecks of the proud pile, 'mid arches grey,Whilst hollow winds, through mantling ivy, sigh! And e'en the mouldering shrine is rent away, Where, in his warrior weeds, the British Arthur lay.

Now, look upon the sister faue of Wells!

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It lifts its forehead in the lucid air;Sweet, o'er the champain, sound its sabbath bells,Its roof rolls back the chaunt, or voice of prayer. Anxious we ask, will heaven that temple spare,

Or mortal tempest sweep it from its state? Oh! say, shall time revere the fabric fair,

Or shall it meet, in distant years, thy fate, Shattered, proud pile, like thee, and left as desolate ?

No! to subdue or elevate the soul,

Our best, our purest feelings to refine,

Still shall the solemn diapasons roll

Through that high fane! still hues, reflected,

shine

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