Look not, nor sigh, for earthly throne, Nor place thy trust in arm of clay-- But on thy knees Uplift thy soul to GOD alone, For all things go their destined way As He decrees. Embrace the faithful Crucifix, And seek the path of pain and prayer Thy Saviour trod; Nor let thy spirit intermix With earthly hope and worldly care Its groans to GOD! And Thou, O mighty Lord! whose ways Are far above our feeble minds To understand, Sustain us in these doleful days, And render light the chain that binds Our fallen land! Look down upon our dreary state, And through the ages that may still Roll sadly on, Watch Thou o’er hapless Erin’s fate, And shield at least from darker ill The blood of Conn! M. [1] St Peter. This passage is not exactly a blunder, though at first it may seem one: the poet supposes the grave itself transferred to Ireland, and he naturally includes in the transference the whole of the immediate locality around the grave.--TR. [2] _Caoine._ [3] Song. [4] A compensation or fine. [5] Ballyshannon. BOB PENTLAND, OR THE GAUGER OUTWITTED. BY WILLIAM CARLETON. That the Irish are a ready-witted people, is a fact to the truth of which testimony has been amply borne both by their friends and enemies. Many causes might be brought forward to account for this questionable gift, if it were our intention to be philosophical; but as the matter has been so generally conceded, it would be but a waste of logic to prove to the world that which the world cares not about, beyond the mere fact that it is so. On this or any other topic one illustration is worth twenty arguments, and, accordingly, instead of broaching a theory we shall relate a story.