What hope can scale this icy wall, High over the main flag-staff? Above the ridges the wolf and bear Look down with a patient, settled stare, Look down on us and laugh. The summer went, the winter came-- We could not rule the year; But summer will melt the ice again, And open a path to the sunny main, Whereon our ships shall steer. The winter went, the summer went, The winter came around; But the hard, green ice was strong as death, And the voice of hope sank to a breath, Yet caught at every sound. Hark! heard you not the noise of guns? And there, and there again? 'Tis some uneasy iceberg's roar, As he turns in the frozen main. Hurra! hurra! the Esquimaux Across the ice-fields steal: God give them grace for their charity! Ye pray for the silly seal. Sir John, where are the English fields, And where are the English trees, And where are the little English flowers That open in the breeze? Be still, be still, my brave sailors! You shall see the fields again, And smell the scent of the opening flowers, The grass, and the waving grain. Oh! when shall I see my orphan child? My Mary waits for me. Oh! when shall I see my old mother And pray at her trembling knee? Be still, be still, my brave sailors! Think not such thoughts again. But a tear froze slowly on his cheek; He thought of Lady Jane. Ah! bitter, bitter grows the cold, The ice grows more and more; More settled stare the wolf and bear, More patient than before. Oh! think you, good Sir John Franklin, We'll ever see the land? 'Twas cruel to send us here to starve, Without a helping hand. 'Twas cruel, Sir John, to send us here, So far from help or home, To starve and freeze on this lonely sea: I ween, the Lords of the Admiralty Had rather send than come. Oh! whether we starve to death alone, Or sail to our own country, We have done what man has never done-- The open ocean danced in the sun-- We passed the Northern Sea! REMARKABLE PROPHECY. TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH OF M. LAHARPE FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MAGAZINE. BY H. J. BEYERLE, M.D. It seems to me as if it had been but yesterday, and yet it happened in the beginning of the year 1788. We were at table with one of our colleagues of the Academy, a respectable and lively gentleman. The company was numerous, and selected from all ranks: nobles, judges, professional men, academicians, &c. We had enjoyed ourselves as is customary at a well-loaded table. At the desert, the _malvasier_ and Cape wine exalted the pleasure and increased in a good company that kind of liberty which does not remain within precise limits.