The thunders roar, the lightnings glare,
Vain is it now to strive or dare;
A cry goes up of great despair,—­

                    Miserere Domine.

The stormy voices of the main,
The moaning wind, the pelting rain
Beat on the nursery window pane:—­

                    Miserere Domine.

Warm curtained was the little bed,
Soft pillowed was the little head;
“The storm will wake the child,” they said: 

                    Miserere Domine.

Cowering among his pillows white
He prays, his blue eyes dim with fright,
“Father save those at sea to-night!”

                    Miserere Domine.

The morning shone all clear and gay,
On a ship at anchor in the bay,
And on a little child at play,—­

                    Gloria tibi Domine!

THE THREE RULERS.

BY ADELAIDE PROCTOR.

     I saw a Ruler take his stand
     And trample on a mighty land;
     The People crouched before his beck,
     His iron heel was on their neck,
     His name shone bright through blood and pain,
     His sword flashed back their praise again.

     I saw another Ruler rise—­
     His words were noble, good and wise;
     With the calm sceptre of his pen
     He ruled the minds, and thoughts of men;
     Some scoffed, some praised, while many heard,
     Only a few obeyed his word.

     Another Ruler then I saw—­
     Love and sweet Pity were his law: 
     The greatest and the least had part
     (Yet most the unhappy) in his heart—­
     The People in a mighty band,
     Rose up and drove him from the land!

THE HORN OF EGREMONT CASTLE.

BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.

        Ere the brothers though the gateway
          Issued forth with old and young,
        To the Horn Sir Eustace pointed,
          Which for ages there had hung. 
        Horn it was which none could sound,
        No one upon living ground,
        Save He who came as rightful Heir
        To Egremont’s Domains and Castle fair.

        Heirs from times of earliest record
          Had the House of Lucie borne,
        Who of right had held the lordship
          Claimed by proof upon the horn: 
        Each at the appointed hour
        Tried the horn—­it owned his power;
        He was acknowledged; and the blast
        Which good Sir Eustace sounded was the last.

        With his lance Sir Eustace pointed,
          And to Hubert thus said he: 
        “What I speak this horn shall witness
          For thy better memory. 
        Hear, then, and neglect me not! 
        At this time, and on this spot,
        The words are uttered from my heart,
        As my last earnest prayer ere we depart.