NATURE is rich and bountiful,
And man a niggard poor,
Yet having nature in his reach,
And heaps within his store.

The sun ariseth from his bed,

And maketh corn enough to grow;
And man ariseth from his bed,
And saith it is not so.

In days of old the spreading fields
Beneath Messina's sky,

Bore harvests richer than the rest
Of fruitful Sicily.

But once it chanced a general blight
Came on a plague-wind's gust,
And all the sea of golden grain
Changed to a sooty dust.

"And what care I ?" said Bruscolo-
A lord of lands was he;

“For I have corn in every barn,

Now worth a hundredfold to me."

Amongst the poor a famine raged;
They gave whate'er they had

To buy dear bread; when all was gone,
The poorest died, or else ran mad.

But Bruscolo still held his price,
And so withheld his corn,
Until the people, with one voice,
Clamour'd from night till morn.

They said, "The corn we cannot buy;
The grass we cannot eat;

Nor can we lie down patiently,
To die at Plenty's feet!"

But Bruscolo still held his price,
And doubly barred all doors,
And doubly fed his hirelings strong
To guard his hoarded stores;

And called all rich men to his aid,
With soldiers and with slaves,
So that the starving people saw
On either side their graves.

But meanness comes with poverty,
Petitions long, and weak, and vain,
Beseeching rich men to forego
A little of their gain.

The crowd pass'd by the lordly barns,
To kneel before the owner's door;
But two stood fix'd with hungry pains
They never knew before.

With staring eyes and open mouths They dream of bread-corn-flourUntil the very granary planks

Their passionate thoughts devour.

And one of these at last espied
A hole that seemed a drain;
And like a rat he downward crept,
Beneath the stores of grain.

The other sat in his despair,
Staring with blood-shot eyes,
Till, on the nearest granary roof,
A strange thing he descries.

Forth creeping with inquiring neck,
And callow fluttering wings,
A mealy bird all sickly white,
Upon the roof-edge clings.

Yellow its eyes, and ghastly pink
Its throat, when wide it gaped;
Tottering it stood, as might a ghost
From grave-clothes just escaped.

Awhile it stood, so lank and blear
Fluttered, and gaped again-
And as it crept back 'neath the roof,
The Rat came from the drain.

"Ha!" cried his comrade, "hast thou found An entrance to the barn?"

"I have," this poor rat cried-" but God Hath breath'd upon the corn!"

"And, oh! the horrid sight I've seen

Within the wide barn's walls!

For every rising heap of grain

Steams heaves-and bursts-and falls!

"The air is hot, and foul, and strange
With noises like a smothered fife;
A Judgment hath the corn transformed
Into u natural life!

"The fallen grain on all sides sprouts
Warm fibres, film, and hair,
Which soon a feathery shape assume
In clotted masses there!

"The clotted bodies pant and writhe,
And soon they try to crawl;
Stretch out limp necks and reeking wings,
And climb the granary wall!"

He ceased to speak, and sped away

Unto the Corn-lord's door,

Where now a crowd was kneeling round "Petitioning" evermore.

But Bruscolo still held his price,

And would no help afford;

"Oh, let us live!" the crowd still moaned,

"Oh, pity us, Corn-lord!"

Said Bruscolo-" If fortune frowns

On others, she is kind to me ;

My price I'll keep-and, if thieves come,

Call out the soldiery!"

Still cried the people-" On our state
Thy mercy we implore :

Great lord of lands, some cheap food grant,
And "heaven will bless your store."

But now the poor Rat reached the ground:
"Devil and beast!" he cried,

"God hath cast down the statue proud Of golden Fratricide!"

"Thou can'st give nothing!—we can give The curses of the poor,

For Heaven, instead of blessing it,
Hath blasted all your store!"

Boom! went the roofs from all the barns:
With hollow doom's-day sound!
And clouds of birds all ghastly white
Rose up and wheeled around!

Away the roofs were tossed and blown,
The barns fell with a roar,

And Bruscolo in horror fled

Towards the wild sea shore!

The clouds of birds down wheeling now, As though they would alight, Screaming in circles o'er his head, Pursue his frantic flight!

Into the sea fled Bruscolo;

Still screamed each ghastly kite!
He took the waves within his arms,
And swam to meet the night.

Amidst the ruins of his barns
Wolf-thistles, tall as man,
Rose for his monument, and spake
Warnings of bale and ban.

Of those strange birds but two returned,
And they sat in the sun,

Until their ghastly plumage changed,
And lovely colours shone.

Their young ones flew from isle to isle,

With beauty, freedom, hope;

And corn-lords never strove again

With Nature's laws to cope.

MY TEMPTATIONS.

BY A POOR MAN.

THERE are those who (themselves altogether above want) wonder at the "shocking depravity" of the poor, feel a thrill of pious horror at the idea of a man who pleads poverty as an excuse for dishonesty, and who would not hesitate to affirm, that they would die of starvation before they could commit so great a sin as to appropriate to themselves anything which they might not call their own. Ah! how little can they imagine the feelings of one who has nothing which he can call his own, save the loved ones who are perishing with him!

Let such stern moralists (lolling back in their arm-chairs over their wine after dinner) read my simple story:—

I am a labouring man-my hand is hard and rough; but if suffering could render me callous, my heart would be harder still.

In the beginning of the winter, a year or two back, I had saved about five pounds towards our support during the most severe weather-my work being of a description that could not be proceeded with in frost. I had then three children, and Mary (my wife) was shortly about to give birth to another.

The season advanced-work began to slacken, but there were still many days on which I could work, and we managed to live without touching my little hoard-little indeed—but I had been a long time in saving it!

At last my wife was confined, and five days afterwards a sharp long frost set in. Poor Mary was very ill-dangerously ill; and before the doctors left her, I had to pay them two guineas, and they told me Mary must have warm good clothing and good food. She had both while my money lasted; when it failed, the frost had not broken up.

I contrived to get a few occasional jobs, but I knew only one business, and that I could not follow.

I applied to my master to advance me a little money; but he had five hundred workmen in his employ, and four out of every five had made the same application-he refused.

We went to the pawnbroker next; but we had very little to pledge except our clothes, and they went fast, for my chance work was a mere trifle.