Spithead.

thoughts of honest pride,

raise to Heaven, as is most meet;

ours upon the peaceful tide

ands, thronging far and wide

Queen in joyfulness to greet: ajestic stands the giant Fleet hunderclouds, that roll away

ning clamours, to display

tled hulls, and overhead

5, or glittering canvas spread:

und, on this glad holiday,

ng'd yachts, like sea-birds, flit about,

steamers, drest in pennons gay,

ey pass, and reel beneath the shout.

The Burnt Church.

I.

O WRECK of many good and precious things,

O thousand glories shatter'd to the ground!

O Ruin,-where Destruction's fiery wings

Have flapp'd, and scorch'd, and ravaged all around!

O Providence,-whose deep determinings

No wisdom can defeat, no thought can sound,

Alas! how shall we well and wisely search

The Mind of GOD in this-a ruin'd church?

II.

! Religion's beauteous fane,

g centuries her holy home, ory stain'd each pictured pane, archived many a rare old tome,culpture, lofty, pure, and plain, sting trophy won from Rome,

asted!-Who may read aright

av'n in this unholy sight?

III.

it, though your eyes be dim,

and humbly still ye search :

those who worship Him

mediate idol of His Church;

gle wings of cherubim,

not to deck the temple-porch,e whose temple is all space,

always and in every place!

I

IV.

Yet, must we note the low estate of Man,

And help on earth his earthly nature still; And, it is wise and duteous, where we can,

To counteract by good permitted ill;

And, if we work eternal Mercy's plan,

We glorify our GOD through man's free will; And HE that bade us worship him aright

Said, Make My court and service your delight.

V.

Therefore, with energy and zeal discreet,
Hasten to raise this holy house again;

With decent splendour, as is right and meet,
Give GOD once more his consecrated fane:

HE waits in grace to bless your willing feet,
And those who serve him, never serve in vain :
So bring your offerings, and your alms outpour,
And rear St. George for GOD and Man once more!

For the Madeira Famine-fund.

I.

MADEIRA! fair haven of plenty and health,

Where luxury smiles on the vintage of wealth,
Where mountain and glen in the midst of the seas
Breathe Eden's own balm on the cheek of Disease,
Where nature's most beautiful pastoral scene,
With rock-built sublimity toppling between,
And rural contentment, and music, and mirth,
Make thee the bright gem, the oasis of Earth,-
Alas, for the change! that a bane and a blight
Hath wither'd thy beauty, and darken'd thy light,-
Alas! for the tropical breezes that waft

The moans of despair from thy death-stricken raft,-
Alas! for the sunsets of glory that glow

On famishing vineyards and hovels of woe,-
Alas for the vial of judgment outpour'd

Madeira, on thee, from the hand of the LORD!