While all so totters, wheels, and floats from view,
Whate'er the eye can mark, the hand contrive;
Thy word, O God! alone on earth is true,
And dares 'mid boundless ruin still survive.

The utterance keen of thine eternal will
Went forth at first through nothingness and gloom;
Through depths of ages working onward still,
It crowns with life each world's successive tomb.

From thee it flows creating time and space ;
With suns and planets fills the dark abysm;
And spreads the light that veils thy changeless face,
Refracted wide through Nature's varying prism.

That living Word sustains the sand, the flower,
The insect swarm, the brood of giant things;
Combines the whole by one harmonious power,
And loud in conscious hearts thy glory sings.

Yet weighs on all the eclipse and curse of ill,
Of failing good, and hopes that lull no more;
And every leaf that sails the autumnal rill
Its dying sister leaves with sighs deplore.

The mountains darken o'er the shatter'd plain,
When earthquake smites the town that sways a realm ;
The stars new-born lament the stars that wane,
And seas wail hoarse above the fleet they whelm.

And man, whose hopes his bound the most exceed,
The loftiest mourner 'mid the griefs of all,
Must shade his front with sad sepulchral weed,
And wear, for kingly robes, the funeral pall.

Amid such endless change and storms of night,
Still moves thy Word divine, educing day,
But thwarted, clogg'd, repell'd, by flashes bright,
And winning hardest conquests o'er decay.

But still in One whose soul, aloof from wrong,
Was fill'd with earnest unpolluted good,
Resounds thy voice an undiscordant song,
And tells thy will as at the first it stood.

Thy Word fulfill'd was He, for ever shown
To man the living Archetype of Life,
In whose embodied light our spirits own
A certain hope-a rest secure from strife.

And ne'er from mortal thought shall pass away
The form of truth and peace he gave to earth;
In whom our hearts with love thy rule obey,
And gain from them a second, happier birth.

Without that light, though fair the frame of things,
How dark the shades of grief it all would wear!
From it through death immortal being springs,
And all thy presence dawns upon despair.


2 L


WITHIN its hollow nook of rocks and trees

The lake in silence lies,

Untouch'd by gusts of autumn's changeful breeze,
Which sweep the distant skies.

It upward looks, with still and glassy face,
And sees the windy rack,

Which o'er the surface idly seems to trace
White clouds and shadows black.

So dwells the wiser heart, at ease and safe,
And marks the passing storm,

Which cannot there the tranquil being chafe,
Nor that bright peace deform.

The tongues of busy rumour, vain and loud,
And cold malignant hate,

And dreams obscure, that cheat the greedy crowd,
And full-blown scorn sedate;

High-sated wealth, decorous pride of place,
Mankind's anarchal kings;

And Science, blindly wrapping round its face
The veil it draws from things;

The spectres thin that haunt the lifeless breast,
And are not what they seem-
Lust, follies, envies, avarice, unrest,

That act earth's tragic dream ;

All these around the soul resolved and sure,
A train of hunters throng,

With unbelieving threats and mocks impure,
And self-bewitching song.

A moment's rush is theirs to seize their prey,
Which shrinks perhaps aghast ;

But nerved again by faith, it stands at bay,
And, lo! the rout is past.

But shades they were, and melt around in shade,
In him no place they own,

Who, looking clear through all things undismay'd, In all sees God alone.

An instant lingering on the nightly wold,

'Mid rocks of mournful brows,

While sweeps the howling gale from caverns cold, And waves the leafless boughs;

With dread the man beholds the shadows drear,
That ape a demon train-

Before a glance of thought the view is clear,
And earth is still'd again.

So thou, O God! to man's weak darkness known,
A light sustain'd by gloom,

Wilt make thy steadfast will to good my own,
And lead me through the tomb!


CAN man, O God! the tale of man repeat,
Nor feel his bosom heave with livelier bound?
Through all we are the swelling pulse must beat
At thought of all we are, of all things round:
Our inmost selves the straining vision meet,
And memory wakes from slumber's cave profound :
And, like a rock upon a sunny plain,

The past amid thy light is seen again.

Ah! little sphere of rosy childhood's hour,
Itself so weak, and yet foreshowing all!
Unopen'd world of self-evolving power,
That now but hears the instant's tiny call!
Within its dewdrop life, its folded flower,
Distress and strife the thoughtless heart enthrall;
And stirrings big with man's unmeasured hope
Have scarcely strength against one pang to cope.
Bewildering, cloudy dawn! then pass from view
The first faint lines of mortal being's course;
Then wakes the will, and fiercely grasps a clue,
And wond'ring feels it snapp'd by headlong force,
And sad and weeping grows a child anew,
Till joy comes back from life's unfailing source-
New aims, new thoughts, new passions take their turn,
And still the extinguish'd flame again will burn.

What gropings blind to leave the common way!
What yearnings vain that find no end reveal'd!
What hopeless war, and feeling's idle play!

What wounds that pierce through pride's phantasmal play !—
A thousand objects woo'd and thrown away!

And idols dear that no response will yield!

And so within one bosom's living cell

A fiendish foe and helpless victim dwell.

Oh, gorgeous dreams, and wing-borne flight of youth!
That thinks by scorning earth to win the skies;

Forebodings dim of visionary truth,

That like a beast pursued before us flies;

Insane delight in monstrous forms uncouth,

That thence perchance some prophet-ghost may rise;
Blind love of light, and craving hate of rest!-
How far our strangest world is in the breast!

Abounding pictures, bright with morn and joy,
Of all the endless beings round us known,
Bewilder, vex, intoxicate, and cloy,—

A land of bliss how near; yet not our own!
All things so fair each sense they needs employ,
Yet 'mid them all the spirit wastes alone;
So many, lovely, large, and sweet they seem,
As if to prove the whole is only dream.

Fair visions all! and, 'mid the train of things,
How strong the sway the fairest shapes have won!
From them distraction, folly, rapture, springs,
And life's true rapture seems but now begun.
For mad we seek the joy that passion brings
To hearts by inmost treacheries all undone,
Though love's concealing veil is dark and stern,
Nor e'er did eyes profane its mystery learn.

So forward roll the years with woe and bliss,
'Mid act, and deed, and thought, and lone despair;
And, 'twixt the arduous That and easy This,
We feign the trial more than man can bear.

Still Conscience stabs and bleeds; Temptation's kiss.
Still sucks our purest life, and taints the air
His feet with blood, his own and others', red,
Ambition climbs the unstable mountain-head.

But sick'ning hours, and weariness of breath,
And eyes that cannot brook to see the day,
And dreams that shuddering hail the name of death,
And fancies thin subdued by dull decay,—
All these, O God! thy servant Conscience saith,
Are surely sent by Thee-thy word obey;
The world of man so bright, and soul so strong,
To man are shown defaced by human wrong.

And thus, by inward act and outward led,
We know the things we are if loosed from thee;
How blind as rocks, and weak as branches dead,
And vain and fierce, to show us nobly free,
To leave thy paths in desert wilds we fled,
And hoped no longer thine-our own to be;
So sinking down from fancied all to nought,
One grain of dust was left by misery taught.

That speck, O Father! still to thee was dear-
A living relic capable of good;

And bruised and crush'd by woe, and shame, and fear,
Arose again from earth, and upright stood.
Thy Spirit still was there, not now severe,
And fed the yearning heart with loving food,
Till brave and clear, discerning all the past,
It knew that peace and hope were gain'd at last.

Now all confusion spent, and battles o'er,
Are seen as leading on to endless rest,
The world obscure and distant now no more,
With sights of truthful gladness fills the breast;
And love, so false and foul a name before,
With countless joys the wounded heart has blest:
And thus, O God! thy child serene and bold,
Goes forth to toils heroic manifold!


READER, what is a parr? This is the only interrogatory we ever had the honour to address to Lord Brougham, and we believe it is the only one ever put to his lordship, either by ourselves or any body else, which he was unable to answer. If the reader has not yet made up his mind on this important point, we shall not press him for an instantaneous reply; but in case he should be sufficiently candid from the commencement to confess that he knows nothing whatever of the subject, we then beg to introduce him to our friend Mr John Shaw of Drumlanrig, who will speedily tell him all about it.

It is, indeed, both gratifying and instructive to find, that in many departments, alike of art and nature, important discoveries are not seldom achieved by men who make no pretension to philosophical skill or scientific knowledge, but who, following the bent of a sagacious and observant disposition, attain to the root of a matter, while others have been only playing with stray leaves, or stumbling over broken branches. It is gratifying, in as far as it shows, that, in natural history especially, a fair field for original research is still open to good powers of observation, even in reference to native productions of the highest value and importance; and it is instructive to those professing a more pedantic knowledge, to be forced to admit how ignorant they may actually be, in spite of all their book-learning.

Our innumerable readers need not to be told that the salmon is the most valuable of all the fishes which ever sojourn in our river waters; but they do require to be informed, and we therefore take the earliest opportunity of doing so, that our knowledge of its natural history and habits of life, so far as concerns the first two seasons of

its existence, and during which it may be said to be continuously within our daily vision, was only determinately ascertained a few months ago. It has been the food of millions from the earliest periods of our own recorded history; its capture occupies the time and rewards the toil of many thousands of our most industrious population; its sale affords a princely addition to the income both of lords and commons; the luxury of sumptuous life is incomplete when wanting a supply of this most "dayntous fisshe:' and yet almost all that has ever been said or written on the subject of its earlier existence, is founded on the grossest error. It is our intention to present a brief summary of the experimental observations and discoveries of the ingenious enquirer whose contributions are named below; but as there exists a tendency in human nature of a very reprehensible kind, which leads alike to the decrying of discoveries when these are made, and to the denial of their claim to the character of novelty, we shall, in the first place, with a view both to the historical illustration of the point in question, and the prevention of malice prepense, state the hitherto prevailing views of scientific authors on the subject of salmon fry. Should any one deem this to be a matter of slight importance, let him consider that if the salmon itself, in its matured condition, is a noble creature, of vast value in an economical point of view, and if the best mode of effecting its early conservation and future increase ought therefore to be sedulously sought after, no enquiry regarding its youthful history, which results in truth, can be otherwise than interesting.

We shall not attempt to trace the history of opinion regarding parr up to the time of Adam or even of Aris

An Account of some Experiments and Observations on the Parr, and on the Ova of the Salmon, proving the Parr to be the Young of the Salmon. By Mr John Shaw. Edinburgh New Philosophical Journal for July 1836, vol. xxi. p. 99.

Experiments on the Development and Growth of the Fry of the Salmon, from the Exclusion of the Ovum to the Age of Six Months. By Mr John Shaw. Edinburgh New Philosophical Journal for January 1838, vol. xxiv. p. 165.

Account of Experimental Observations on the Development and Growth of Salmon Fry, from the Exclusion of the Ova to the Age of Two Years. By Mr John Shaw. (Read to the Royal Society of Edinburgh, on 16th December 1839.) Transactions of the Royal Society of Edinburgh, vol. xiv. Part II. (1840.)

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