overtake us. We did not, however, get more than twenty miles from the island before we felt the full fury of a southwest gale, which continued until our arrival at Port Adventure, in Stewart's Island, on the morning of July the 24th, after a miserable passage of five days and nights, during the whole of which time I stood upon my feet, holding on to a rope with one hand and pumping with the other. The boat was very leaky, and we kept the pump almost constantly going. As my anxiety would not permit me to leave the deck, I performed this part of the work, while the other two relieved each other at the helm. The wind, although fair, was so strong that we were obliged to lay-to nearly half the time, and the sea was constantly breaking over the little craft, and how she lived through it I scarcely know. I had not eaten an ounce of food from the time of leaving until we arrived, and I only drank about half a pint of water; yet I felt no fatigue until the night before we landed, when I suddenly became quite exhausted, and lay down on the deck. We were now close to the land. On the following day we landed at Port Adventure, where we were kindly received by Captain Cross of the Flying Scud."

Note.-"Very shortly afterwards, Captain Musgrave accompanied Captain Cross in the Flying Scud in a trip to the Auckland Isles, and rescued the two remaining men of the crew of the ill-fated Grafton schooner."

POETRY.

BOADICEA, QUEEN OF THE ICENI IN BRITAIN. A.D. 62.

WHEN the British warrior Queen,

Bleeding from the Roman rods,
Sought, with an indignant mien,
Counsel of her country's gods,

Sage, beneath the spreading oak,
Sat the Druid, hoary chief;
Every burning word he spoke-
Full of rage, and full of grief :

"Princess if our aged eyes

Weep upon thy matchless wrongs, 'Tis because resentment ties

All the terrors of our tongues.

"Rome shall perish !-write that word
In the blood that she has spilt;
Perish, hopeless and abhorred,
Deep in ruin as in guilt!

"Rome, for empire far renowned,

Tramples on a thousand states;

Soon her pride shall kiss the ground-
Hark! the Gaul is at her gates!

"Other Romans shall arise,

Heedless of a soldier's name ;

Sounds, not arms, shall win the prize, Harmony the path to fame.

"Then the progeny that springs

From the forests of our land, Armed with thunder, clad with wings,

Shall a wider world command.

Regions Cæsar never knew
Thy posterity shall sway;
Where his eagles never flew,-
None invincible as they."

Such the bard's prophetic words,
Pregnant with celestial fire,
Bending, as he swept the chords
Of his sweet but awful lyre.

She, with all a monarch's pride,
Felt them in her bosom glow;
Rushed to battle,-fought and died :-
Dying, hurled them at the foe:

"Ruffians, pitiless as proud,

Heav'n awards the vengeance due ;

Empire is on us bestowed;

Shame and ruin wait for you."

KING CANUTE.

A.D. 1016.

UPON his royal throne he sat,

In a monarch's thoughtful mood; Attendants on his regal state

His servile courtiers stood,

With foolish flatteries false and vain,
To win his smile, his favour gain.

They told him e'en the mighty deep
His kingly sway confessed;
That he could bid its billows leap,

Or still its stormy breast!

He smiled contemptuously, and cried, "Be, then, my boasted empire tried!"

Down to the ocean's sounding shore
The proud procession came,
To see its billows' wild uproar

King Canute's power proclaim;
Or, at his high and dread command,
In gentle murmurs kiss the strand.

Not so, thought he, their noble king,
As his course he seaward sped ;—
And each base slave, like a guilty thing,
Hung down his conscious head;

He knew the ocean's Lord on high;
They, that he scorned their senseless lie.

His throne was placed by ocean's side;
He lifted his sceptre there,
Bidding, with tones of kingly pride,
The waves their strife forbear:
And, while he spoke his royal will,
All but the winds and waves were still.

Louder the stormy blast swept by,
In scorn of his idle word;

The briny deep its waves tossed high,
By his mandate undeterred,
As threatening, in their angry play,
To sweep both king and court away.

1

The monarch, with upbraiding look,
Turned to the courtly ring;

But none the kindling eye could brook
Even of his earthly king;

For in that wrathful glance they see
A mightier Monarch wronged than he!

Canute thy regal race is run;
Thy name had passed away
But for the meed this tale hath won,
Which never shall decay :
Its meek, unperishing renown
Outlasts thy sceptre and thy crown.

The Persian, in his mighty pride,
Forged fetters for the main ;
And when its floods his power defied,
Inflicted stripes as vain ;—

But it was worthier far of thee
To know thyself, than rule the sea!

CHRISTMAS IN OLDEN TIMES.

HEAP on more wood! the wind is chill;
But let it whistle as it will,

We'll keep our merry Christmas still.
Each age has deemed the new-born year
The fittest time for festal cheer;
Even heathen yet, the savage Dane
At Iol more deep the mead did drain ;
High on the beach his galleys drew,
And feasted all his pirate crew;