"O haste thee, haste!" the lady cries,
"Though tempests round us gather;
I'll meet the raging of the skies,
But not an angry father."

The boat has left a stormy land,
A stormy sea before her,—
When, oh! too strong for human hand,
The tempest gather'd o'er her.

And still they row'd amidst the roar
Of waters fast prevailing:

Lord Ullin reach'd that fatal shore-
His wrath was changed to wailing.

For sore dismay'd, through storm and shade,
His child he did discover:

One lovely hand she stretch'd for aid,

And one was round her lover.

"Come back! come back!" he cried, in grief,

"Across this stormy water;

And I'll forgive your Highland chief,

My daughter!-O my daughter!"

'Twas vain: the loud waves lash'd the shore, Return or aid preventing:

The waters wild went o'er his child,

And he was left lamenting.

THE LAST MAN.

All worldly shapes shall melt in gloom,
The Sun himself must die,

Before this mortal shall assume

Its Immortality.

I saw a vision in my sleep,

That gave my spirit strength to sweep
Adown the gulf of Time:

I saw the last of human mould,
That shall Creation's death behold,
As Adam saw her prime.

The Sun's eye had a sickly glare,
The Earth with age was wan,
The skeletons of nations were
Around that lonely man.

Some had expired in fight,—the brands
Still rusted in their bony hands;
In plague and famine some.
Earth's cities had no sound nor tread;
And ships were drifting with the dead
To shores where all was dumb.

Yet, prophet-like, that lone one stood,
With dauntless words and high,
That shook the sere leaves from the wood
As if a storm pass'd by,

Saying, We are twins in death, proud Sun,
Thy face is cold, thy race is run,

"Tis Mercy bids thee go;

For thou ten thousand thousand years
Hast seen the tide of human tears,

That shall no longer flow.

What though beneath thee man put forth His pomp, his pride, his skill;

And arts that made fire, flood, and earth,
The vassals of his will;-

Yet mourn I not thy parted sway,
Thou dim discrowned king of day:
For all those trophied arts

And triumphs that beneath thee sprang,
Heal'd not a passion or a pang
Entail'd on human hearts.

Go-let oblivion's curtain fall

Upon the stage of men,
Nor with thy rising beams recall
Life's tragedy again.

Its piteous pageants bring not back,
Nor waken flesh, upon the rack
Of pain anew to writhe;
Stretch'd in disease's shapes abhorr'd,
Or mown in battle by the sword,
Like grass beneath the scythe.

Even I am weary in yon skies
To watch thy fading fire;
Test of all sumless agonies,
Behold not me expire.

My lips that speak thy dirge of death-
Their rounded gasp and gurgling breath
To see thou shalt not boast.

The eclipse of Nature spreads my pall,-
The majesty of Darkness shall
Receive my parting ghost.

This spirit shall return to Him

That gave its heavenly spark;
Yet think not, Sun, it shall be dim
When thou thyself art dark!
No! it shall live again, and shine
In bliss unknown to beams of thine;
By Him recall'd to breath,
Who captive led Captivity,
Who robb'd the grave of Victory-
And took the sting from Death.

Go, Sun, while Mercy holds me up
On Nature's awful waste,

To drink this last and bitter cup
Of grief that man shall taste-
Go, tell the night that hides thy face,
Thou saw'st the last of Adam's race,
On Earth's sepulchral clod,

The dark'ning universe defy
To quench his Immortality,

Or shake his trust in God!

SONG.

My mind is my kingdom, but if thou wilt deign
To sway there a queen without measure,
Then, come, o'er its wishes and homage to reign,
And make it an empire of pleasure.

Then of thoughts and emotions each mutinous crowd
That rebell'd at stern reason and duty,

Returning shall yield all their loyalty proud
To the halcyon dominion of Beauty.

THIS formidable poetical antagonist of the Corn Laws was born at Masbro', a village near the town of Sheffield, in 1781. As his father was a Dissenter, and thoroughly opposed to the established order of things in Church and State, the youth of the poet was nourished in that spirit of political resistance which his maturity was to exhibit in such strangely-flavoured fruits. While a boy, he was reckoned so dull as to be unfit to learn any thing, and accordingly his education was neglected; but he soon found a school for himself among the scenes of nature, where he learned to wander and contemplate, and where he acquired those quick habits of observation, and vigorous and correct powers of description, for which his poetry stands so conspicuous. He was also so fortunate as to obtain the unlimited use of a library, which a country curate had bequeathed to his father. On reaching manhood, he settled in Sheffield, and is now an extensive steel refiner and merchant.

The poetry of Elliott was for a considerable time unnoticed and unknown, and this was probably owing to his choice of subjects, as well as the fierce and frequently offensive style in which they were expressed. Taxation was his inspiration and his theme, and his Muse seemed to have been trained exclusively for the hustings, to harangue against the iniquity of the Corn Laws, and denounce the aristocracy. At last, however, attention was directed to his productions, and even those who were most opposed to his views as a politician, were obliged to acknowledge his merits as a poet. Indeed, society at large seemed to be ashamed of the neglect with which it had treated him: but the reparation was generous, and not too late, in the rapidly growing popularity which his poetry acquired. The Corn Law Rhymer holds an exalted rank among our living poets, which we hope he will long continue to enjoy.

THE PRESS.

WRITTEN FOR THE PRINTERS OF SHEFFIELD ON THE PASSING OF THE
REFORM BILL.

God said, "Let there be light!"
Grim Darkness felt his might,
And fled away;

Then, startled seas and mountains cold
Shone forth, all bright in blue and gold,
And cried, ""Tis day! 'tis day!”
"Hail, holy light!" exclaim'd
The thund'rous cloud, that flamed
O'er daisies white;

And, lo, the rose, in crimson dress'd,
Lean'd sweetly on the lily's breast,

And, blushing, murmur'd, "Light!"
Then was the skylark born;
Then rose th' embattled corn;
Then floods of praise

Flow'd o'er the sunny hills of noon;
And then, in stillest night, the moon
Pour'd forth her pensive lays.

Lo, heaven's bright bow is glad!
Lo, trees and flowers, all clad
In glory, bloom!

And shall the mortal sons of God,
Be senseless as the trodden clod,
And darker than the tomb?
No, by the mind of man!
By the swart artisan!
By God, our Sire!

Our souls have holy light within,
And every form of grief and sin
Shall see and feel its fire.

By earth, and hell, and heaven,
The shroud of souls is riven!
Mind, mind alone

Is light, and hope, and life, and power!
Earth's deepest night from this blest hour,
The night of minds, is gone!
"The Press!" all lands shall sing;
The Press, the Press we bring,
All lands to bless:

Oh, pallid want! oh, labour stark!
Behold, we bring the second ark!

The Press! the Press! the Press!

From Corn Law Rhymes.

FROM THE SPLENDID VILLAGE.

Yes, ye green hills, that to my soul restore
The verdure which in happier days it wore!
And thou, glad stream, in whose deep waters laved
Fathers, whose children were not then enslaved!
Yes, I have roam'd where Freedom's spirit fires
The stern descendants of self-exiled sires;
Men, who transcend the herd of human kind,
A foot in stature, half a man in mind.
But tired, at length, I seek my native home,
Resolved no more in gorgeous wilds to roam;
Again I look on thee, thou loveliest stream!
And, seeming poor, am richer than I seem.
Too long in woods the forest-Arab ran,
A lonely, mateless, childless, homeless man;
Too long I paced the ocean, and the wild,—
Clinging to Nature's breast, her petted child;
But only plough'd the seas, to sow the wind,
And chased the sun, to leave my soul behind.