The wail of forests vast
Thro' which pour storms like light,
Whilst rending in the blast,
They feebly own its might!
Deep thund'rings o'er the main:
The short shrill smother'd cry,
Hurl'd to the skies in vain,
Of drowning agony!

The SOMETHING _toneless_, which
Speaks awfully to men,
Startling the poor and rich,
For CONSCIENCE _will_ talk then;
These are the watch-words drear,
_The Voices of the Night_,
Which harrow the sick ear,
The stricken heart affright!

_Great Marlow, Bucks._

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MANNERS & CUSTOMS OF ALL NATIONS.


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