29 SEPTEMBER 1883, Page 15

POETRY.

ME WSL ADE.

STRANGE powers are they that work 'twixt sea and land;

Where winds and waves, the rivals of the shore, In tempest or in calm, for evermore, Beat on the cliff, or sport upon the sand, And love the haunts of Mewslade's storm-wash'd strand.

At ebbing tide, the winding glen explore, Descend and enter, wonder and adore, Mid temples never made by human hand.

These solemn towers, white-shafted, tapering spires, Arch, buttress, corridor, and pinnacle, That from their fretted basements rise sublime,- He who commands waves, winds, and lightning fires, The wild and wayward agents of His will, Wrought, through the ages of unmeasur'd time.