Shall ruffians threat of cord and steel?

The dungeon's gloom? the assassin's blow?

Shall tongues be mute, when deeds are wrought? Shall freemen lock the midnight thought? Shall mercy's bosom cease to sigh

For woman's shrieks-and slavery?

Shall honour bleed? shall truth succumb?
Shall pen, and press, and soul be dumb?
Let every man arise to save,

From Scourge and chain, the Negro slave!

Old England, sweet land of the fair and the free, Whose house is the waters, whose flag sweeps the

sea;

[wave, Still stretch out thy hand o'er the ocean's broad Protecting the helpless unfortunate slave; And nations which call themselves free shall repent Of the thousands in pain to eternity sent! Each who forwards the cause, on the verge of the [slave! Will gain strength from the pray'r of the liberate

grave

THE NEWFOUNDLAND DOG.

Poetry by F. W. N. Bayley.-Music by Henry Russell. LIFE saver! wave stemmer! deep diver, away! Night's shadows are closing the portals of day: On the breast of the billow we hear his low wail,We have put up the rudder, and furl'd up the sail. No signal from Heav'n will show where he be, And where'er he be driv'n we men cannot see. Ho, Carlo! Newfoundland! go follow his cry, As it gaspingly answers the sea-moaner's sigh; The boat shall be lower'd, the men shall belay, Life saver! wave stemmer! deep diver, away! Away, find him out! fetch him up! seize him, ho! Mount the wave, dog! mount the wave, dog! ha! down, down below!

Hark! watch! bear a hand-bring a light-not a sound! bring a light, [over the drown'd. Hark! there's a moan!-yes, the waves moaning God's spirit preserve him!—amen, and amen! Hist! a flash and a motion-ba, Carlo! ha, Carlo! again!

Good dog, then! good dog, then! bear a hand there, pull tight:

A boat-hook, a boat-hook! he's in, and all's right; Come, Carlo, quick follow-fine fellow, hard strife; Wave stemmer! deep diver! we owe you a life!

WHEN IS A MAN LESS THAN A MAN?
Poetry by Charles Mackay, LL.D.-Music by Henry Russell.
WHEN is a man less than a man?

When he leads or drives his friends
To danger, for his selfish ends ;
And leaves them in the evil day,
To stand or fall as best they may :
Then is a man less than a man ;-

Then we pity him all we can.

When is a man less than a man?

When he makes a vow he fails to keep; When without sowing he would reap; When he would borrow, beg, or steal, Sooner than work for an honest meal: Then is a man less than a man ;

Then we pity him all we can.

When is a man less than a man?
When by misfortune stricken down,
He whines and maudles through the town;
But never lifts his strong right arm
To save himself from further harm:
Then is a man less than a man ;-

Then we pity him all we can.

When is a man less than a man?
When he acts the coward's part,
When he betrays a woman's heart,
And scorns, ill-uses, and deceives
The love that lingers and believes :
Then is a man less than a man ;-

Then we pity him all we can.

When is a man less than a man?

When he takes delight in raising strife;
When he values honour less than life;
When he insults a fallen foe,

Or at a woman aims a blow:
Then is a man less than a man ;-

Then we pity him all we can.

THE WIFE'S DREAM.

Poetry by I. R.-Music by Henry Russell.

'The accompanying lines are founded upon an incident most pathetically described by Lady Blessington; and I offer them to you, simple as they may be, with confidence, feeling assured there are many generous hearts who attend your entertainments that can feel for a neglected wife; and if, through my feeble efforts and your exertions, one tear be wiped from the eye of wretchedness, I shall indeed feel myself more than rewarded.'-Extract of a letter addressed to Mr. Henry Russell.

'Now tell me, Mary, how it is that you can look

so gay,

When ev'ning after ev'ning your husband is away? I never see you sulk or pout, or say an angry word; And yet you've plenty cause for tears, if all be true I've heard.'

'It is because, my sister dear, a husband you ne'er wed, [you for bread ; Nor saw your children gath'ring round, and asking You ne'er can know how it becomes a woman's

lot through life,

[wife. To be, e'en to a drunkard's faults, a faithful loving

'And yet I can recal the time when bitter tears I shed,

And, when my husband stagger'd home, what angry words I said;

I never thought that I could be as cheerful now I

seem,

Yet this happy change was brought about by a simple little dream.

One ev❜ning as I sat beside our humble cottage door,

And listen'd for my husband's step, as oft I'd done before,

Some wicked thoughts came in my mind, and bitterly I said,

"I never wish to see him more! oh, would that he were dead!"

'They say the wretched cannot rest, but surely 'tis not so,

For very soon I fell asleep, 'midst tears of grief and woe:

I dream'd I had my wish fulfill'd-my husband

I fell upon his lifeless form, and kissed him o'er and o'er.

"Oh! Dermot, darling, speak to me! I meant not what I said;

Oh, speak one word unto your wife-say, say you are not dead!"

"And sure I'm not, my Mary dear!”—I woke up with a scream,

And found my husband standing by- his death was but a dream!

'And since that time, whene'er I feel dispos'd to be unkind, [before my mind; The warning of that fearful dream comes fresh And, though it costs me many a pang to know the life he leads, [heart bleeds! I try to greet him with a smile, when oft my poor

I'll humbly put my trust in God, and ask for strength to bear

The trials that he sends on earth for all of us to

share;

And if by patience I can change my husband's wand'ring life,

I'll bless the hour that dream was sent to his neglected wife!'

THE DREAM OF THE REVELLER.

Poetry by Charles Mackay, LL.D.-Music by Henry Russell.

AROUND the board the guests were met, the lights above them beaming,

And in their cups, replenish'd oft, the ruddy wine was streaming;

Their cheeks were flush'd, their eyes were bright, their hearts with pleasure bounded,

The song was sung, the toast was given, and loud the revel sounded.

I drained my bumper with the rest, and cried, 'Away with sorrow!

Let us be happy for to-day, what care we for tomorrow?'

But as I spoke my sight grew dim, and slumber deep came o'er me,

And, 'mid the whirl of mingling tongues, this vision passed before me .—

Methought I saw the demon rise-he held a mighty bicker,

Whose burnish'd sides ran daily o'er with floods of burning liquor;

Around him press'd a clam'rous crowd, to taste this liquor greedy,

But chiefly came the poor and sad, the suffering and the needy,