The lion would not leave her desolate,
But with her went along, as a strong guard
Of her chaste person, and a faithful mate
Of her sad troubles, and misfortunes hard.
Still, when she slept, he kept both watch and ward;
And, when she wak'd, he waited diligent,
With humble service to her will prepar'd :
From her fair eyes he took commandement,
And ever by her looks conceived her intent.

FROM THE RUINS OF TIME.

O VAIN world's glory, and unstedfast state
Of all that lives on face of sinful earth!
Which from their first, until their utmost date,
Taste no one hour of happiness or mirth:
But, like as at the in-gate of their birth,
They crying creep out of their mother's womb,
So wailing, back go to their woful tomb.

Why then doth flesh, a bubble-glass of breath,
Hunt after honour and advancement vain,
And rear a trophy for devouring Death,

With so great labour, and long-lasting pain,
As if his days for ever should remain ?
Sith all that in this world is great, or gay,
Doth, as a vapour, vanish and decay.

Look back, who list, unto the former ages,

And call to count what is of them become : Where be those learned wits, and antique sages, Which of all wisdom knew the perfect sum? Where those great warriours which did overcome

The world with conquest of their might and main, And made one meare (b) of the earth and of their reign ?

High towers, fair temples, goodly theatres,
Strong walls, rich porches, princely palaces,
Large streets, brave houses, sacred sepulchres,
Sure gates, sweet gardens, stately galleries,
Wrought with fair pillars and fine imageries :
All those, O pity! now are turn'd to dust,
And overgrown with black oblivion's rust.—

Where my high steeples whilom used to stand, On which the lordly falcon wont to tower, There now is but a heap of lime and sand,

For the screech-owl to build her baleful bower : And, where the nightingale wont forth to pour Her restless plaints, to comfort wakeful lovers, There now haunt yelling mews and whining plovers.

O trustless state of miserable men!

That build your bliss on hope of earthly thing, And vainly think yourselves half happy, then When painted faces, with smooth flattering, Do fawn on you, and your wide praises sing! And when the courting masker louteth low, Him true in heart and trusty to you trow !

All is but feigned, and with oker dy'd shower will wash and wipe away;

That

every

(b) Boundary.

All things do change that under heaven abide, And after death all friendship doth decay : Therefore, whatever man bear'st worldly sway, Living, on God and on thyself rely;

For, when thou diest, all shall with thee die.

THE MINISTRY OF ANGELS.

AND is there care in heav'n ? and is there love
In heav'nly spirits to these creatures base,
That may compassion of their evils move?
There is; else much more wretched were the case
Of men than beasts. But oh the exceeding grace
Of highest God! that loves his creatures so,
And all his works with mercy doth embrace,
That blessed angels he sends to and fro,

To serve to wicked man,-to serve his wicked foe.

How oft do they their silver bowers leave,
To come to succour us, that succour want?
How oft do they with golden pinions cleave
The flitting skies, like flying pursuivant
Against fowle fiends to aid us militant.
They for us fight, they watch and duly ward,
And their bright squadrons round about us plant;
And all for love, and nothing for reward:
Oh! why should heav'nly God to man have such
regard!

ALEXANDER HUME.

ALEXANDER HUME, a younger son of the noble house of Polwarth, is supposed to have been born about the year 1546. He studied law in France, but abandoned that pursuit for the church. He died, it is supposed, about the end of the century.

THANKS FOR A SUMMER'S DAY.

O PERFECT light which shaid (a) away
The darkness from the light,

And set a ruler o'er the day,
Another o'er the night.

Thy glory, when the day forth flies,
More vively does appear,

Nor (b) at midday unto our eyes

The shining sun is clear.

The shadow of the earth anon

Removes and drawis by,

Syne (c) in the east, when it is gone,

Appears a clearer sky.

Whilk (d) soon perceive the little larks,

The lapwing, and the snipe,

And tune their song like Nature's clerks,

O'er meadow, muir, and stripe.

(a) For shaded. (b) Scotticè for than. (c) Then. (d) Which.

The golden globe incontinent

Sets up his shining head,

And o'er the earth and firmament
Displays his beams abread. (e)

For joy the birds with boulden (ƒ) throats,
Against his visage sheen, (g)

Take up their kindly music notes
In woods and gardens green.

Upbraids (h) the careful husbandman,
His corn and vines to see,
And every timeous (i) artisan
In booths works busily.

The pastor quits the slothful sleep,
And passes forth with speed,
His little camow-nosed (k) sheep,
And rowting kye (1) to feed.

The passenger, from perils sure,
Goes gladly forth the way,
Brief, every living creature
Takes comfort of the day.

The misty reek, (m) the clouds of rain
From tops of mountains skails, (n)
Clear are the highest hills and plain,
The vapours take the vales.

(e) Abroad.

(h) Uprises.

(4) Lowing kine.

(f) Emboldened.

(i)) Early.

(m) Fog.

(g) Shining.

(k) Flat-nosed.
(n) Pours off.