the tearing and breaking the beds; the throwing about the fire; the hoof treading out the candle; and the striving for the sword, and the blow the man received from the pummel of it."

NAVARINO,

AN ODE, BY D. S. L.

Spirit of the Teian lyre,
Soul of Sappho's song,
Fling around thy holy fire,

As my numbers sweep along!
Oh! for a spark of radiant beam
To gild the magic of my theme.
Child of inspiration, wake!

Pindar-master of the wand-
Soaring round through every land,
Bid my hymnings proudly break
In all the tones that ever gave
Life and glory to the brave!

Lovely Scio, brightest land,

Of prowess and of fame;
Children of the meteor band,

Who haloed Grecia's name!
Playing round your clustered isles,
Again the god of freedom smiles.
Columned on the spiral blaze

Of battle through the air,

The Hellic falchions bare

Their red blades to the day-beam's rays;
And freedom-chainless as before-
Again is on Ionia's shore !

Balmy land of blue-eyed maids,
Wake your dulcet lays again;
Let the vales of Samian shades
Echo to your orient strain.
Low in carnage, low in war,
Sinks the Othman's bannered car ;
While the waters of the seas,

Lending death a thousand pillows,

Dimple in the spicy breeze

That melts upon their bed of billows.
Rise high, rise high, thou evening star,
Straying in lustre from afar,

And mantle gently o'er the wave,
Where sleep the spirits of the brave.
Oh! never doth thy dreamy ray
Seem bright, as when it shines
Upon the spot, where freemen lay
The relics of their lines!

Let your bowers of wreathed roses→→→→
Naïads of the Paphian skies!-
Softly bloom, while peace reposes
'Neath the death-fire of your eyes!
The heavens all sun-the earth all balm,
Like south-sea isles of odorous palm:
And looking from his throne of pride
Upon the millions at his side,
On such a day and such an eve

The Persian saw his warriors crowd,
Pressing in extasy to leave

Their mangled bodies to the shroud.
He looked upon the heavens that kiss
The hills of deathless Salamis.*

The morn, he saw them bright and gay;
The evening came-and where were they?
And thus it was the crescent knew
Its might and splendour scatter'd too!
Upon the bosom of that bay,

The Osman gallies sternly ride;
Haughty and gallant, and fierce are they,

Who float on the swell of its tide:

The free blast breathes on their pennons fair,
And vengeance, and promise, and strength are there,
But mark! on its sulphur wings

The genius of Greece upsprings,

And, sweeping along its thunder path,

Outpours on the tyrants its vial of wrath.

It is a remarkable coincidence, that the battles of Salamis and Navarin were both fought on the 20th of October,

1

The smile of death is on the water,
Vengeance revels in its gorge of slaughter:
And a moment they flash, and a moment they flee
And Grecia triumphant is thralless and free
Peace to the many who fell

In the fight of the new-born brave;
Let their last breath of life be the knell
For the reign of the despot and slave!
It is over! and sunny and fair

Be the wind that shall perfume the air;

While the islands of Greece in their morning of rest Fling a spark of their torch from the east to the west; And when beauty and youth, in their own Pyrrhic dance, Shall hallow the glitter of Liberty's lance,

Be there one who will sing, how the hope of the slave, Is alone in the light of the scabbardless sword; While the shackles, that thraldom and slavery gave, Shall rest in the tomb of their sceptreless lord.

LOVE WOUNDED.

BY PAT. E. BYRNE.

In Ida's bowers young Love one day
A painted butterfly pursuing,
Through rosy meads, in wanton play,
Still sought the harmless thing's undoing.
With panting heart, from flower to flower,
A long and weary chase it led him,
And still he thought it in his power,
And still on soaring wing it fled him.

At length it linger'd on a rose,

Alas! alas! was it the devil

That threw so sweet a thing to 'pose
Thy flight from fast approaching evil?

The Muses weep to tell the woe

This humble lyre of mine adorns ;

The insect fell beneath the blow,

But Love was wounded by the thorns!

GREENWELL PARSONAGE.

FROM THE GERMAN OF BECKER.

Whosoever does not understand how to conform to the world around him, and to erect therein the fabric of his own happiness, is not likely ever to acquire it. His sphere of action resembles a piece of ground, whose uncertain frontiers are lost amongst the territories of jealous neighbours, who frequently give him trouble and vexation; or even contend with him for the right of his property.

But when wisdom is interwoven in the pursuits and operations of an individual, the circle of his useful activity is like a fertile garden, in whose enclosure he builds a peaceful cottage, where comfort resides: the cultivation and watching of the soil cost him labour and anxiety; but the success of his plantation makes ample amends, and betwixt sowing and reaping he raises many a flower, which embellishes his ground and affords him pleasure.

Such a spot is Greenwell: this considerable village extends for more than half an hour through a delightful valley, which is watered by a little river abounding in fish. On all sides one perceives the signs of rural prosperity; and the gardens, as well as the fields, bear the certain marks of industry amongst the inhabitants. Considered as an estate, it is one of the best in the country; and the parsonage is so much the more important, as some other villages depend from it.

Mr. Sembach, the clergyman, was in very good circumstances, and he thanked heaven for it; but however well he knew how to appreciate the value of a good income, he felt still more pleasure in having so well succeeded with his parishioners, as to become in every respect their teacher and benefactor; and he would often exclaim, in a joyful mood, that, should he even be called to a rectorship in the metropolis, he would most certainly refuse the offer.

He had obtained his place as a deserved reward; for, having been the tutor of the young count, whom he had accompanied to the university, and on his travels; on their return he was fitted out with implements, and a considerable sum in ready money, because his income depended chiefly on the produce of the glebe-lands. He had neglected no oppor

tunity to qualify himself for his situation, and, besides studying what his professional duties required, he had bestowed great attention on rural economy: his and manners person were pleasing, and he had been so much the quicker in obtaining the good-will of his flock, as he possessed, moreover, no inconsiderable share of medical knowledge, which enabled him to render often the most essential services in cases of emergency, and which he had acquired for that very purpose; being aware of its importance in a country place.

He was, however, too well acquainted with the disposition and the prejudices of the common people, to attempt to force any of his ideas upon them, and he rather endeavoured to win their confidence by showing some towards themselves: he would often ask for the advice of the most experienced amongst them, and appeared to follow it as far as he found it practicable this pleased the good folks, and had such an influence upon them, that they were always ready to lend him every assistance.

As for his sermons, he studied them indeed with the utmost care, and he said nothing but what he had very maturely reflected upon, and what might have stood the test of a much more informed audience; but the words seemed at the same time to flow in the most easy and natural manner.

He had found the school in a very bad condition: the teacher, formerly a servant at the castle, was old, and the place had been given to him as a living, without any consideration whether he was fit for it or not. Sembach assisted the old man as long as he remained in being, and at his death he used all his influence to have him replaced by a clever and active young man, whose salary he got raised to such a sum as would enable him to devote his time entirely to this important duty, whilst his wife instructed the girls in female occupations; so that the youth of both sexes were no where better informed than in Greenwell, and all the neighbouring villages sent their children to profit by its institution.

One Sunday, just after service-time, a barn was set on fire by lightning; the flame soon spread, and the top of the next house began already to blaze; the peasants were not backward in procuring water; but the engine would not work. Sembach, yet in his gown, hastened to the spot, and decided that nothing but pulling down would avail; he had hard work