Right sharp and quick the bells all night rang out from Bristol town,

And ere the day three hundred horse had met on Clifton Down :

The sentinel on Whitehall gate looked forth into the night,

And saw o'erhanging Richmond Hill the streak of blood-red light,

Then bugle's note and cannon's roar the deathlike silence broke,

And with one start, and with one cry, the royal city woke.

At once on all her stately gates arose the answering

fires;

At once the wild alarum clashed from all her reeling spires;

From all the batteries of the Tower pealed loud the voice of fear;

And all the thousand masts of Thames sent back

a louder cheer;

And from the furthest wards was heard the rush of hurrying feet,

And the broad streams of pikes and flags rushed down each roaring street:

And broader still became the blaze, and louder still the din,

As fast from every village round the horse came spurring in:

And eastward straight from wild Blackheath the warlike errand went,

And roused in many an ancient hall the gallant

squires of Kent.

Southward from Surrey's pleasant hills flew those bright couriers forth;

High on bleak Hampstead's swarthy moor they started for the north;

And on, and on, without a pause, untired they bounded still :

All night from tower to tower they sprang; they sprang from hill to hill:

Till the proud peak unfurled the flag o'er Darwin's rocky dales,

Till like volcanoes flared to heaven the stormy hills of Wales,

Till twelve fair counties saw the blaze on Malvern's lonely height,

Till streamed in crimson on the wind the Wrekin's crest of light,

Till broad and fierce the star came forth on Ely's stately fane,

And tower and hamlet rose in arms o'er all the boundless plain;

Till Belvoir's lordly terraces the sign to Lincoln sent, And Lincoln sped the message on o'er the wide vale of Trent;

Till Skiddaw saw the fire that burned on Gaunt's embattled pile,

And the red glare on Skiddaw roused the burghers of Carlisle.

No dawn- -no dusk—no proper time of day—

No sky-no earthly view

No distance looking blue

No road-no street-no "t'other side the way"-

No end to any row

No indications where the crescents go—
No top to any steeple—

No recognitions of familiar people—
No courtesies for shewing 'em-
No knowing 'em!

No travelling at all-no locomotion,
No inkling of the way-no notion—
"No go"-by land or ocean-
No mail-no post-

No news from any foreign coast

No park--no ring-no afternoon gentility-
No company-no nobility—

No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease—
No comfortable feel in any member-

No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees-
No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no trees—

November!

T. HOOD

64. HOW DO I LOVE THEE

FROM THE PORTUGUESE 1

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.

I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.

1 Under this thin disguise Mrs. Browning concealed the authorship of some of her most beautiful sonnets.

I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;

I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use

In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose

With my lost saints,-I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life!—and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.

E. B. BROWNING

65. THE PICTURE OF LITTLE T. C.

IN A PROSPECT OF FLOWERS

SEE! with what simplicity

This Nymph begins her golden days.

In the green grass she loves to lie,

And there with her fair aspect tames
The wilder flowers, and gives them names;
But only with the roses plays,

And them does tell

What colour best becomes them, and what smell.

Who can foretell for what high cause

This Darling of the Gods was born?

Yet this is she whose chaster laws
The wanton Love shall one day fear,
And, under her command severe,

See his bow broke and ensigns torn.
Happy who can

Appease this virtuous enemy of man!

O then let me in time compound,

And parley with those conquering eyes

Ere they have tried their force to wound;
Ere with their glancing wheels they drive
In triumph over hearts that strive,

And them that yield but more despise !
Let me be laid

Where I may see the glories from some shade!

Meantime, whilst every verdant thing
Itself does at thy beauty charm,
Reform the errors of the Spring!
Make that the tulips may have share
Of sweetness, seeing they are fair ;
And roses of their thorns disarm ;
But most procure

That violets may a longer age endure !

But O, young Beauty of the woods!

Whom Nature courts with fruits and flowers, Gather the flowers, but spare the buds!

Lest Flora, angry at thy crime

To kill her infants in their prime,

Should quickly make the example yours;
And, ere we see,

Nip in the blossom all our hopes in thee.

A. MARVELL

66.--PARTED

WHEN I think on the happy days
I spent wi' you, my dearie,
And now what lands between us lie
How can I be but eerie !