THE SIMOOM

THE BRAMBLE

Keble.

Robert Barnes

What grand masses of light and shade! How the tongues
of flame shot high up into the air, and then fell back with
magical variation. Ever and anon the blazing mass would
suddenly sink down into some internal crater, and a shower
of sparks would fly aloft, and seem to lose themselves
amongst the stars.
Pages from my Note-book.

Some great caravan, from well to well
Winding as darkness on the desert fell,
In their long march, such as the Prophet bids,
To Mecca from the Land of Pyramids,
And in an instant lost-a hollow wave
Of burning sand their everlasting grave!
Rogers.

But thou, wild bramble! back dost bring,
In all their beauteous power,

The fresh green days of life's fair spring,
And boyhood's blossomy hour.

Scorned bramble of the brake! once more
Thou bidd'st me be a boy,

To gad with thee the woodlands o'er,
In freedom and in joy.

Tail-piece-THE Lighthouse

188

Ebenezer Elliott.

1

Echo the mountains round; the forest smiles;
And every sense, and every heart, is joy.
Then comes Thy glory in the Summer months
With light and heat refulgent. Then Thy sun
Shoots full perfection through the swelling year;
And oft Thy voice in dreadful thunder speaks:
And oft at dawn, deep noon, or falling eve,
By brooks and groves, in hollow-whispering gales.
Thy bounty shines in Autumn unconfined,
And spreads a common feast for all that lives.
In Winter, awful Thou! with clouds and storms
Around Thee thrown, tempest o'er tempest rolled,
Majestic darkness! on the whirlwind's wing
Riding sublime, Thou bidd'st the world adore,
And humblest Nature with Thy northern blast.

Mysterious round! what skill, what force divine,

Deep felt, in these appear! a simple train,
Yet so delightful mixed with such kind art,
Such beauty and beneficence combined,
Shade, unperceived, so softening into shade,
And all so forming an harmonious whole,
That, as they still succeed, they ravish still.
But wandering oft, with brute, unconscious gaze,
Man marks not Thee, marks not the mighty hand,
That, ever busy, wheels the silent spheres ;