Still she seemed to linger in the death-struggle, and we turned at last away; when, lo! a wave, huger than all before it, rushed up the boulders towards us.  We had just time to save ourselves.  A dull, thunderous groan, as if a mountain had collapsed, rose above the roar of the tempest; and we all turned with an instinctive knowledge of what had happened, just in time to see the huge mass melt away into the boiling white, and vanish for evermore.  And then the very raving of the wind seemed hushed with awe; the very breakers plunged more silently towards the shore, with something of a sullen compunction; and as we stood and strained our eyes into the gloom, one black plank after another crawled up out of the darkness upon the head of the coming surge, and threw itself at our feet like the corpse of a drowning man, too spent to struggle more.

CHARLES KINGSLEY.

* * * * *

A SHIPWRECK.

       Then rose from sea to sky the wild farewell,—­
          Then shrieked the timid, and stood still the brave,—­
       Then some leaped overboard with dreadful yell,
          As eager to anticipate their grave;
       And the sea yawned around her like a hell,
          And down she sucked with her the whirling wave,
       Like one who grapples with his enemy,
       And strives to strangle him before he die.

And first one universal shriek there rushed,
Louder than the loud ocean, like a crash
Of echoing thunder; and then all was hushed,
Save the wild wind and the remorseless dash
Of billows; but at intervals there gushed,
Accompanied with a convulsive splash,
A solitary shriek, the bubbling cry
Of some strong swimmer in his agony.

BYRON.

* * * * *

THE HAPPY WARRIOR.

       Who is the happy Warrior?  Who is he
       That every man in arms should wish to be? 
       —­It is the generous Spirit, who when brought
       Among the tasks of real life, hath wrought
       Upon the plan that pleased his boyish thought: 
       Whose high endeavours are an inward light
       That makes the path before him always bright: 
       Who, with a natural instinct to discern
       What knowledge can perform, is diligent to learn: 
       Abides by this resolve, and stops not there,
       But makes his moral being his prime care;
       Who, doomed to go in company with Pain,
       And Fear, and Bloodshed, miserable train! 
       Turns his necessity to glorious gain;
       In face of these doth exercise a power
       Which is our human nature’s highest dower;
       Controls them and subdues, transmutes, bereaves
       Of their bad influence, and their good receives: 
       By objects, which might force the soul to abate
       Her feeling, rendered more compassionate;
       Is placable—­because