POETRY.

THE MESSAGE.

STERN Garreg Hylldrem's? help I prayed.—

Grey waters, clear, and cool, The headlong joy of the Cascade. The tumult of the Pool.

Below, beside, the Torrent's roar, Far distant, and yet near, Came lively oracles of War To the attentive ear.

"Stream that once heard the Roman's call, Thy counsel I invoke."

Swift. was the message of the Fall,—

Ii answered as I spoke.

"Seek here no juggling prophecies, No words of mystic lore: On my swift waters fix your eyes; What omens need you more?

I hurl myself upon my foes, I wait not their attack, The rocks give way before my blows,

No hand dare hold me back.

He who awaits the Conqueror's leap, Is vanquished ere he bleeds:— My waters thunder down the steep, Their sharp sword carves the meads.

What were the words of him who crowned Our -Empire of the Sea?

Go seek it from the man that owned The keys of Victory.

'More closely' hold the foe in fight. That was his spell of Power. And let it be your Beacon Light In Britain's fated hour.

Look North and East, the summer sun Is rising from the wave.

Once mere there cometh from the Sea The Power that comes to save.")

SO spake the Stream. No more the sound Of ordered phrase I heard; Only dim mutterings, and profound The mountains' echoes stirred.

I left the Fall, but in my soul The flame of joy leapt free.

I took the Omen of the Stream,

• dorm 113ildrem, in North Wales, is a mass of frowning rock. The torrent that he. under It hes no DEM of Its own.

t Lord Halifax In his Character ala Trimmer tells To the question, What shall we do to be eared In this World? there Is no other Answer but thls,Look to your Heat, The Ilmt Article of an Vrvirtsb-mana Political Creed must be,That us bollmwth in the tea, .te.; without that 'there nottleit no (tonere( Wand 55 pronouna him incapable oi Yeavetienben;