HUNTSPILL TOWER. JOVE beyond cove, in faint and fainter line The distant billows where they break and shine On the dark isles. Around us, far and near, To south and north the glorious hills are seen; Such airs, light sallies of thy cheerful heart, OXFORD. (FROM BAGLEY, at 8 a.m.) HE flood is round thee, but thy towers as yet Pierce the calm morning mist, serene and free, Their nursing-fathers, sworn to Heaven and thee (An oath renewed this hour on bended knee,) Ne'er to betray their Mother nor forget.— Lo! on the top of each aerial spire What seems a star by day, so high and bright, It quivers from afar in golden light : But 'tis a form of earth, though touched with fire How, when they tired of prayer, Apostles fell. JOHN KEBLE. AT HOOKER'S TOMB. HE grey-eyed Morn was saddened with a shower, Scarce could you trace it on the twinkling rill, Most for thanksgiving meet, that Heaven such power 'Who sow good seed with tears shall reap in joy.' So thought I as I watched the gracious rain, And deemed it like that silent sad employ Whence sprung thy glory's harvest, to remain THE THRUSH'S NEST. ITHIN a thick and spreading hawthorn bush, I heard from morn to morn a merry thrush I watched her secret toils from day to day,- And there I witnessed, in the sunny hours, JOHN CLARE. FLIGHT OF THE SPIRIT. HITHER, oh! whither wilt thou wing thy way? Shall break, unveiled for terror or delight?— What hosts, magnificent in dread array, My spirit! when thy prison-house of clay, After long strife is rent? Fond, fruitless quest! The unfledged bird, within his narrow nest, |