SUN-SET.

BY JOHN AUGUSTUS SHEA.

O! who could gaze on such a sight,
So blue, so boundless, and so bright,
Nor feel the bursting spirit rise
To mingle with that world of skies?

Ocean; how fair thou lookest now,
Laving the day-god's burning brow
With cooling waters, while thine isles
Are sparkling in his golden smiles.

And yet, all tranquil as thou art,
How springs the thought within this heart,
That soon thy calm may wake in strife,
Like half the friendship of this life.

Amid the greenwoods that lately spread
Their beauty o'er the lover's head,
Will toss their arms in howling wrath
Above his tempest-wasted path.

And the mute skies, so brightly blue,
That heaven itself seems smiling through,
Will burst in storms, and flash and frown,
And launch their fiery vengeance down.
But Thou, who still'st the mountain-main,
And bid'st the tempest to the chain,
Thou-only Thou art changeless—all
Beside are made to change and fall.

And when we do not feel thy light,
But live amid the spirit's night,
"Tis not that thou art lightless grown,
"Tis we have wander'd from thy throne,

Like those of yore, who deem'd that day
Roll'd from their steady world away,
While they with bosoms blindly dim
Were wandering fast away from him.

The charms of the country have been often weighed in comparison with those of town; little can that man know of the beauties of nature who prefers the latter to the former. We close this month with a little poetical gem illustrative of this feeling.

STANZAS,

Written during an Excursion to the Neighbourhood of the Salmon-Leap, Leixlip, Ireland.

BY THOMAS FURLONG.

Far, far away from the crowds who court
The wild rabble's unmeaning stare;

Far away from the vain ones who whirl in their sport
Through Dunleary's dusty air;

Away in merriest mood we steer,

For a breeze more soft and a sky more clear,

And a path more fresh and fair;

For a walk where we shun the sun's broad glare,
Where no prying eye on our looks can dwell,

And no babbler talk of the tales we tell.

It is well in the showy and sunny street
The glittering groups to see,

And pleasant upon the road to meet
With each smiling company;
And it is sweet by the broad sea-side
To mark the course of the coming tide,
When the waves roll full and free;

But the green groves seem more sweet to me,
Though the gathering dust and the damp sea air,
And the vain and the idle, be wanting there.
Can that crowded road to the hurrying train,
A pile like Saint Woolstan's show?
Or a space like Connolly's old domain,
With its stream all smooth and slow!
Oh! where may the wearied wanderer call
For a spot like the Leixlip waterfall,

With its foam like the untouched snow,
And its dark rocks rising in many a row?
Oh! where may the loiterer hope to view
A scene like the scene which we linger through?
Then rest ye still while the sunlight falls
In its strength upon the plain,

Nor heed the admonishing voice that calls
Your steps to the town again.

Oh! who that but once hath wandered here
Could turn from a spot so sweet, so dear,
Without one long sigh of pain?

To feel that he loved these gay vales in vain,
To think that their beauty could wither away
With the sport of an hour and the talk of a day.

AUGUST.

This month was named in honor of Augustus Cæsar, because in this month he was created consul, thrice triumpher in Rome, subdued Egypt to the Roman empire, and made an end of civil wars. Previous to the time of Cæsar it was called Sextilis, being the sixth from March.

Bemarkable Days.

1.-LAMMAS DAY.

A festival celebrated on this day by the Romish church, in memory of St. Peter's imprisonment. Lammas is by some derived from a Saxon word, signifying loaf-mass, because on that day the AngloSaxons made an offering of bread with new wheat. 2.-1100.-WILLIAM RUFUS KILLED.

EC

66

Here stood the oak tree from which the arrow, shot by Sir Walter Tyrrell at a stag, glanced, and struck King William the 2nd, surnamed Rufus, in the breast, of which he instantly died, on the 2d day of August, 1100."

The second inscription says,

"King William the 2nd, surnamed Rufus, being slain as is before stated, was laid in a cart belonging to one Purkiss, and drawn from hence to Winchester, and buried in the cathedral church of that city."

The third is as follows:

"Anno 1755, That where this event so remarkable had happened might not be hereafter unknown, this stone was set up by John Lord Delawar, who has seen the tree growing in this place. This stone was repaired by John Richard Earl Delawar, 1781."

4.-1347.-CALAIS SURRENDERED TO EDWARD III.

THE SURRENDER OF CALAIS.

By Emma C. Embury.

The king was in his tent,
And his lofty breast beat high,
As he gazed on the city's battled walls,
With proud and flashing eye;

But darker grew his brow, and stern,
As slowly onward came

The chiefs who long had dared to spurn
The terror of his name.

With calm and changeless cheek,
Before the king they stood,
For their native soil to offer up

The sacrifice of blood.

Like felons were they meanly clad,
But the lightning of their look,
The marble sternness of their brow,
Ev'n the monarch could not brook.

With angry voice he cried,

"Haste! bear them off to death?
Let the trumpet's joyous shout be blent
With the traitor's parting breath!"
Then silently they turned away,
Nor word nor sound awoke,

Till, from the monarch's haughty train,
The voice of horror broke.

And, hark! a step draws near,—

Not like the heavy clang

Of the warrior's tread-and through the guards
A female figure sprang ;

"A boon! a boon! my noble king!

If still thy heart can feel

The love Philippa once could claim,
Look on me while I kneel.

""Tis for thyself I pray ;
fI
Let not the darkening cloud
Of base-born cruelty arise,
Thy glory to enshroud.
Nay, nay-I will not rise;
For never more thy wife
Will hail thee victor, till thy soul
Can conquer passion's strife.

"Turn not away, my king!
Look not in anger down!
I've lived so long upon thy smile,
I cannot bear thy frown.

Oh! doom me not, dear lord, to feel
The pang all pangs above,
To see the light I worship fade,
And blush, because I love.

"Think how for thee I laid
My woman's fears aside,

And dared, where charging squadrons met,
With dauntless front to ride.*
Think how, in all the matchless strength
Of woman's love, I spread

Thy banners, till they proudly waved
In victory o'er my head.

"Thou saidst that I deserved
To share thy glorious crown;

Oh! force me not to turn away
In shame from thy renown.
My Edward! thou wert wont to bear
A kind and gentle heart;

Then listen to Philippa's prayer,

And let these men depart."

At the battle of Neville's Cross, in which the Scots were defeated and the king taken prisoner.-vide Hume.