THE SOLITUDE OF ALEXANDER SELKIRK..

I AM monarch of all I survey;
My right there is none to dispute;
From the centre all round to the sea
I am lord of the fowl and the brute.
O Solitude! where are the charms
That sages have seen in thy face?
Better dwell in the midst of alarms
Than reign in this horrible place.

I am out of humanity's reach,
I must finish my journey alone,
Never hear the sweet music of speech;
I start at the sound of my own.
The beasts that roam over the plain
My form with indifference see;
They are so unacquainted with man,
Their tameness is shocking to me.

Society, Friendship, and Love,
Divinely bestow'd upon man,

O had I the wings of a dove

How soon would I taste you again!

died of a fever in 1796, at the age of thirty-seven. His lyrics are among the best in the language, in sentiment and expression, and some of his longer poems abound in rollicking humor as well as deep and simple feeling. He wrote sometimes n English, but his best work was done in his native Scotch dialect.

1 Selkirk was a Scotch sailor who was cast away upon the uninhabited island of Juan Fernandez, off the west coast of South America, in 1704. Here he remained in utter solitude for four years, when he was taken off by an English ship. His advent ares suggested to Defoe his famous story of Robinson Crusoe.

My sorrows I then might assuage
In the ways of religion and truth,
Might learn from the wisdom of age,
And be cheer'd by the sallies of youth.

Ye winds that have made me your sport,
Convey to this desolate shore
Some cordial, endearing report
Of a land I shall visit no more:
My friends, do they now and then send
A wish or a thought after me?
O tell me I yet have a friend,
Though a friend I am never to see.

How fleet is a glance of the mind!
Compared with the speed of its flight,
The tempest itself lags behind,
And the swift-winged arrows of light.
When I think of my own native land
In a moment I seem to be there;
But alas! recollection at hand
Soon hurries me back to despair.

But the seafowl is gone to her nest,
The beast is laid down in his lair;
Even here is a season of rest,
And I to my cabin repair.
There's mercy in every place,
And mercy, encouraging thought!
Gives even affliction a grace
And reconciles man to his lot.

WILLIAM COWPER.

MY HEART'S IN THE HIGHLANDS.

I.

My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here;
My heart's in the Highlands a chasing the deer;
Chasing the wild deer, and following the roe —
My heart's in the Highlands wherever I go.
Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the North,
The birthplace of valor, the country of worth;
Wherever I wander, wherever I rove,

The hills of the Highlands forever I love.

II.

Farewell to the mountains high cover'd with snow;
Farewell to the straths and green vallies below:
Farewell to the forests and wild-hanging woods;
Farewell to the torrents and loud-pouring floods.
My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here,
My heart's in the Highlands a chasing the deer:
Chasing the wild deer, and following the roe
My heart's in the Highlands, wherever I go.
ROBERT BURNS.

THE DIVERTING HISTORY OF JOHN GILPIN

HOWING HOW HE WENT FARTHER THAN HE IN TENDED, AND CAME SAFE HOME AGAIN.

JOHN GILPIN was a citizen

Of credit and renown,

A train-band Captain eke was he

Of famous London town.

John Gilpin's spouse said to her dear, Though wedded we have been These twice ten tedious years, yet we No holiday have seen.

To-morrow is our wedding-day,
And we will then repair
Unto the Bell at Edmonton,
All in a chaise and pair.

My sister and my sister's child,
Myself and children three,
Will fill the chaise, so you must ride
On horseback after we.

Of womankind but one,

And you are she, my dearest dear,
Therefore it shall be done.

I am a linen-draper bold,

As all the world doth know. And my good friend the Callender Will lend his horse to go.

Quoth Mrs. Gilpin - That's well said
And for that wine is dear,

We will be furnish'd with our own,
Which is both bright and clear.

John Gilpin kiss'd his loving wife,
O'erjoyed was he to find

That though on pleasure she was bent,
She had a frugal mind.

The morning came, the chaise was brought,
But yet was not allow'd

To drive up to the door, lest all
Should say that she was proud.

So three doors off the chaise was stay'd,
Where they did all get in,

Six precious souls, and all agog

To dash through thick and thin.

Smack went the whip, round went the wheel, Were never folk so glad,

The stones did rattle underneath

As if Cheapside were mad.

John Gilpin at his horse's side

Seized fast the flowing mane,

And up he got in haste to ride,
But soon came down again.

For saddle-tree scarce reach'd had he,
His journey to begin,

When turning round his head he saw
Three customers come in.

So down he came, for loss of time,
Although it grieved him sore,

Yet loss of pence, full well he knew,
Would trouble him much more.

'Twas long before the customers Were suited to their mind,

When Betty screaming came down stairs, "The wine is left behind."