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TO A STREAMLET.

RICHARD CEUR-DE-LION.

into gold—the water into wine. I beg leave to congratu- | Oh! it was not the spell of her dark ringlets wreathing late you on having passed your probationary period of year Around the white neck so surpassingly fair, and day. The Journal has now " taen wi' the grund,” Nor the music that seem'd from that soft bosom breathing, as the gardeners say, and bids fair to become a thriving As if telling how kind was the heart that beat there : plant-semper floreat. Amen!

The Editor. One of the poems which accompanied | It was not the calm of her brow's snowy whiteness, this letter is the following. It is lively and pleasant :

That won my heart's homage from all else on earth; Nor the glance of her eloquent eye's thrilling brightness,

Still sweetliest beaming when by her own hearth. Pretty streamlet, singing, dancing, While through meadows green you stray,

'Twas the smile on the ruddy lip ever reposing, In morning beams your beauty glancing ,

When no one was near to applaud or condemn, Say, whence come you—runaway?

The sunshine within of the pure soul disclosing,

The bliss of the spirit—the blaze of the gem. “ From the foot of yonder mountain, Up whose side the mist ascends ;

She waned not as light from the landscape at even, I was bred beside the fountain,

As mist from the mountain, or spow from the hill,Where the sward its greenness lends ;

But pass'd as a star from the azure of heaven,

A Aash from the cloud, or a ray from the rill. “ And there a child—I learn'd to prattle As I might in hidden dells ;

My sainted, my loved one, my lost earthly treasureTo crowds of rushes to give battle,

All pure and beatified now as thou art,
Or play at bo-peep with hairbells !"

Thine, dearest ! thine be my harp's latest measure,

The last sigh of my soul--the last throb of my heart! So, you have left your loves of childhood,

W. W. Round whose necks you fondly curld, And come hither, in some wild mood,

Old Cerberus. (With an agitated voice.) These are To sport a while, and see the world ?

good verses !

THE EDITOR. The same author strikes a different key Ah! you have got a roguish twinkle ;

in this short ballad, concerning one of the most romanticThey say you streams are fond of flowers ; hearted of England's kings : Well_here they all your path besprinkle ; Bright Flora !-you'll have pleasant hours !

Brightly, brightly the moonbeam shines
How I envy you their kisses,

On the castle turret wall,
As you glide all slow and meek!

Darkly, darkly the spirit pines,
And they bathe their lips and tresses

Deep, deep in its dungeon's thrall.
On your cooling dewy cheek,

He hears the screech-owl whoop reply

To the warder's drowsy strain,
Between you 'tis a happy union!

And thinks of home, and heaves a sigh
Long and constant may it prove;

For his own bleak hills again.
Streams and flowers a bless'd communion !
Beautiesye were made for love!

Sweetly, sweetly the spring-flowers spread

When first he was fetter'd there,
Around these green knolls now you're winding,

Slowly, slowly the sere leaves fade,
Murmuring tones significant ;

Yet breathes he that dungeon's air.
Aye departing, yet aye finding

All lowly lies his banner bright,
All of which you are in want.

That foremost in battle stream'd,

And dimm'd the sword that in the fight Now you dart to yonder coppice,

Like midnight meteor beam'd.
And the love-lorn birks beguile;
'They fondly whisper all their hope is

But place his foot upon the plain,
That you'll linger for a while.

That banner o'er his head,

His good lance in his hand again,
But you leave them with small sorrow,

With Paynim slaughter red,
Onward still the dance you lead;

The craven hearts that round him now
And to-night you'll sup in Yarrow,

With coward triumph stand,
Ere you rest your giddy head.

Would quail before that dauntless brow,
Ettrick Forest.

A.M.

And the death-flash of that brand ! The Editor. But though our friend in Inverkeithing

W. W. does not like “ sighs and sentiments," they are, neverthe The Editor. Thou shalt never say, Old Cerberus, less, excellent ingredients in poetry; and there are a thou- that there was a want of variety in our company.

We sand moods of mind in which aught else would appear carry thee, therefore, all at once from poetry to proseprofane. What thiuk you of the following verses, ener from Richard Caur-de-Lion to a Fox-Hunt. Thou hast, getic in tone, and sincere in expression ?

no doubt, followed the hounds in thy day,—perchance led them.

[A shade of mysterious meaning passes over the fact Sweet lady! I tell thee thou needest not tremble,

of Old Cerberus. Unwarily should thy soft fingers touch mine,

Old Cerberus. Let us have the article with as few I love thee not, girl,—why should I dissemble? introductory remarks as possible.

My heart is another's—it ne'er can be thine.
And if thou wouldst know who that heart has a-keeping,

“ Saddle white Surrey, for the field to-morrow !" And wherefore my brow is still shadow'd with care?

Richard III. Or why all my gladness is changed into weeping ?

Perhaps there is not a more exhilarating sight, either Go, ask the dark grave-for my idol is there.

to the huntsman or the looker-on, than a full field ready

STANZAS TO A LADY.

SKETCH OF A FOX-HUNT.

for the chase. Suppose a fine clear morning in Decem- yet young in the field are drawn up, and walked slowly ber, a blue sky overhead, and the horizon fringed with a home. Meanwhile, by deep curtain of mist, which is gradually dispelling before

“ Those of the true, the genuine sort, the rays of the yet powerful sun; a faint breeze is abroad, which does no more than shake the remaining leaves

Whose heart and soul are in the sport," from the almost leafless branches, and there is a slight as we see in one of Henry Alken's excellent sporting frost, just enough to crisp the crest of the deep-ploughed prints, the chase is gallantly held on, and Reynard leads field; a hoar-frost, too, lies on the timber and brushwood, his still numerous followers up hill and down dale with the rays of the sun making it sparkle with a gorgeous unabated vigour. After a few miles' farther run, the fox brilliancy. The appearance of the horses and dogs is no makes a sudden turn, and leads in the direction of the less full of interest. The hunting-field is an admirable cover; the horses, breathed in the few minutes' check, place for viewing the various attitudes of that noble ani- rattle along after the baying hounds, while the fox makes mal, the horse. Here is seen a young horse, “ his first rapidly for his old shelter. But he is destined never to appearance in any field," as may be discovered from his rest- reach it. After some severe running, the dogs are obless demeanour-throwing himself back-plunging on all- served to get closer to their prey, and one or two stanch fours—tossing his head, and putting himself intofifty at hounds are seen within a few yards of the brush of poor titudes in an incredibly short time. There stands an Reynard, who turns now and then, as they gain ground other, who knows how“ fields are won," his arched neck upon him, and snarls at them in savage desperation. and pawing foot showing his impatience of restraint ;- The cover is all but gained, a high enclosure which surand here is an old veteran who has been in at fifty deaths rounds it is leaped, but, at the same moment, three of the in a season, and who contents himself with silently prick- best hounds leap it also, and, in the twinkling of an eye, ing his ears, and gazing earnestly on his companions in life is extinct. the chase the hounds.

Now the huntsmen pour in for the purpose of securing In Dr Chalmers's admirable discourse “ On Cruelty the brush, and being first in at the death ; and while three to Animals," he defends the lovers of the chase from the or four are coming down the field with all the speed of charge of premeditated cruelty, and favours us with the which their horses are capable, and each one calculating following glowing paragraph conceruing the amusement on gaining the prize, lo! an old huntsman, well acquainted

itself :-“ There sits a somewhat ancestral dignity and with the country, has taken a short cut, and, by a direct e glory on this favourite pastime of joyous Old England, road through the wood, takes his last leap in the face of

when the gallant knighthood and the hearty yeomen, and the other huntsmen, gallops up, and secures the trophy of the amateurs or virtuosos of the chase, and the full as the hunting field-the brush! The head and feet are sembled jockeyship of half a province, muster together in given to the others in succession, and the remainder to the all the pride and pageantry of their great emprize, and dogs, who make quick work with the remnants of poor the panorama of some noble landscape, lighted up with Reynard. Once more mounted, the huntsinen pursue autumnal clearness from an unclouded heaven, pours fresh their, various routes homeward, discussing the incidents exhilaration into every blithe and choice spirit of the of the day, and indulging themselves in anticipating the scene, and every adventurous heart is braced, and impa- pleasures of to-morrow's chase.

Orion. tient for the hazards of the coming enterprise ; and even

Old Cerberus. It is well written,-accurate and disthe high-breathed coursers catch the general sympathy, and seem to fret in all the restiveness of their yet checked tinct. But there was a time—No matter.

THE EDITOR. We shall now treat you to a couple of and irritated fire, till the echoing horn shall set them at liberty, even that horn which is the knell of death to some

sonnets, by different hands, but both good : trembling victim.” The cover is at the top of a gently rising hill, planted

There was a silent spot, where I have been with wood around the sides, but clear of every thing ex

In my blest boyhood, and my spirit caught cept furze and very low brushwood at the top, where a

Its softer feelings and sublimer thought, considerable space is open ; a winding road leads to the From the still influence of that thrilling scene. cover, and as the huntsmen ride up, their red coats are

The green-robed mountain, and the summer vale, seen glittering in the sun, while a partial glimpse is

Were dim in the night's shadows; and the wood, caught of each rider, as he canters to the place of rendez

The wild and leafy haunt of solitude, rous. The dogs are thrown in, and the old huntsmen

Held out its branches to the moonlight pale ; trot slowly up and down the edge of the cover, cheering

The noiseless waters slept beneath the sky, the pack with the cries of " Tally-ho! Tantivy! Tally

Baring their wavy bosoms to the gaze ho!" accompanied with an occasional blast of the hunt

Of countless stars, that, with their sparkling rays, ing-born. A lounging dog or two are to be seen skulk

Shed new enchantment o'er the scenery ; ing outside, but are soon recognised and saluted with a

The birds gave forth no song, the winds no breath, " Go along, Duchess !” “ Get away, Ruby!" and a crack

And all around seemed fading into death ! of the whip, which sends them yelping to the cover.

V. D. The pack are now seen commencing at one end, and spreading gradually along the cover, snuffing at every

SONNET TO ESKDALE PEX. bush. Reynard, thus pushed, creeps silently from furze Thou parent mountain of my native dale, to furze ; but as the pack steal on him, he shows himself, Thou'rt lovelier in thy nakedness to me looks about for a moment, and then bounds from the en Than woods that wave in odorous Araby, closure, while the hounds, now laid on the right scent, Or clustering flowers that spangle Tempe’s vale ! " break cover," with a yell which makes the welkin ring. Thou’rt lovelier !—for I saw thee touch the sky

The horses are restrained for a few minutes to keep In infancy, ere care my heart had wounded, the dogs clear, and then away pell-mell goes the whole And deem'd that thy strong cliffs of dusky dye field, the horses straining every nerve, and clearing the Man's habitation and his wishes bounded ! enclosures like birds on the wing. After the first burst Not the high Alps nor Andes, higher far, of two or three miles, a few may be seen drawing up. Can fix, like thee, my fancy's wandering eye, From the corner of the wood on the right, out springs a Whether the sunbeams on thy bosom lie, young horse, his first debut on the hunting field, ridden Or clouds around thee roll, and tempests jar ; by a groom, and covered with foam; the powerful bit Whether thy brow be deck'd with heaven's bright bow, has lacerated his mouth, and the snowy wreaths are toss Or crown'd with coronet of stainless snow. ed from his head, tinged deeply with blood. The horses Moffat.

J. II. L.

SONXET.

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THE SUPERIORITY OF FICTIOX OVER TRUTH.

The Editor. Here is a poet of whom you have heard Far the voice, whose music shed us speak, who has already done well for so young a bard,

Loveliness o'er all it said ; and who will soon again be before the world, under the

Yet no tone of grief shall be auspices of Messrs Constable & Co., and in the guise of In the song that tells of thee. “ Eldred of Erin.” He has a rich and ready fancy. If any one had doubts thereon, the following effusion would Fleetly, fleetly didst thou fly, prove them erroneous :

Like a shooting star on high ;

But thou leavest yet to me
A VISION

The hidden gold of memory;
By Charles Doyne Sillery.

Not when hush'd the lute's soft strain,
I stood within the thunder of the sea ;

Fades its influence on the brain; Below my feet, on the pale golden sands,

And their odours still abide,
The crimson pebbles and the pink shells lay:

Where the summer flowers have died.
Above, the full moon spread her wings of light,
Silvering the hoary ocean, and the depths

Blest and blessing thou hast past,
Of the blue, shoreless, breathless atmosphere:

Oh! I will not say too fast ;There was no murmur-all was so serene,

Present ever as thy shade, And still, and moveless, that I heard my heart

Happiness around thee play'd ; Tbrob audibly within its secret cell,

Absent-thou hast oft sweet thoughtsAs it drove life's red current through my veias ;

Spirit-like thy memory floats, When_lovely vision! 0, celestial sight!

Whispering words of import high, I saw, just where Orion paved the waves,

Guiding onwards to the sky! A form so radiant, that it seem'd to be

Thurso.

W. S. M. Chissel'd from the dazzling mass of the pure sun!

Old Cerberus. Happy is it for him that his recollecAnd could it be an Angel ?— There she stood

tions are so valuable,-sad, but pleasant to the soul. In the bright sunshine of her beauty !-there

There are those whose melancholy present is not to be so She stood in music, and the living light

easily consoled by drawing upon the treasury of the past. Of her own loveliness! while from her wings

The Editor. In that frame of mind, here is a paper Of purple, downy, variegated gold,

which will exactly suit you. It is an able and interestA mist of sparkles fell around her form,

ing one.
And mingled with the crystal of the sea.
Thick, glossy, silken, tangled wreathes of gold
Hung o'er the polish'd ivory of her brow,

I propound it as an infallible axiom, that Truth is our (Clustering in clouds to veil her loveliness,) greatest enemy. From our boyhood even to the present And floated by her on the restless tide,

minute, the discovery of each new fact has occasioned the Where her limbs warm'd the water. – While I gazed, demolition of some air-built castle or other, more valuaThe curdled blood crept freezing through my veins; ble to our happiness by an hundred fold, than the small The cold dew gather'd on my beating brow; particle of truth we found among its ruins. For my sinMy heart felt crush'd; and my fraught quivering soul gle self, I ask no greater happiness than to be well deRush'd like a deluge rush'd upon my brain. ceived. Give me back my boyhood, with all its errors Dazzled and drunk with beauty, in a trance and ignorance. Make me again believe the Universe to I stood—when her sweet silver-towing voice be comprised within my visual horizon,—the blue heavens Broke forth into such melody divine,

to be a palpable dome, based on the surrounding mounThat nought on earth can I to it compare :

tains. Give me again to speculate on the stars, as 50 She said—“Oh! I am weary with this flight, many lucid gems of nothing more than their seeming magSo far removed is yon bright star from Heaven, nitude and distance. Let me again feel sublimity in the Where I have been to save a dying soul ;

tiny cascade, that woke the echoes of my native glen. Here let me breathe a moment, and again

Set manhood again before me in prospective distance; and I'll spread my pinions on the ethereal sea,

oh ! let me once more believe that every soul who proAnd seek the radiant bosom of my God!"

fesses himself so is my sincere and trusty friend. These

are the delightful fancies which your moral truths and Nor did she ponder long-scarce had she spoken, scientific facts have deprived me of; and what have they When all her form dissolved into my thought, given me in return? When I believed our little world As melts away a rainbow in the heavens !

comprised within so small a compass, I felt myself to be And there—oh, beautiful! just where she stood, of some account; but your telescopic discoveries have A gentle halo hover'd o'er the sea,

dwarfed me to an insignificant reptile; and although you Like the soft sunshine of a seraph's soul :

have enlarged my notions of the planet we inhabit, yet The cold glass glitter'd through it, while I gazed you have shown it, at the same time, to be a very atom On the dissolving glory, which did wane

of the mighty whole—a particle of dast, whose loss could Away in such sweet inusic, that the tears

scarcely be distinguished, were it swept from the circle Stole from my heart and wet my cold wan cheeks.

of creation. Besides, many of your calculations, which And this was all I ever saw or knew

claim the assent of my reason, are, nevertheless, of a magOf that celestial visitant ;—and this

nitude which I cannot distinctly comprehend. Was all a lovely mystery to me!

What is it to me that the diurnal changes are produced The Editor. From the far land of Caithness, even

by the revolution of the earth round its own axis, and from the burgh of Thurso, has come unto us the next

not, as was supposed, by the motion of the sun? Has this communication. It is the production evidently of a

opinion altered one jot the economy of life? has it added gentle and poetical mind :

one iota to my happiness ? How has it advantaged me

to know that the moon is merely a satellite of our planet, “I would not lose my recollections for all Mexico."

--that she is lighted by reflection from the sun,—that she KNIGHT's Quarterly Magazine.

has ber rivers, hills, rocks, and valleys, and is, in all proGono—and ne'er again to meet !

bability, inhabited ? Does she look more lovely to me Lost for aye the converse sweet,

now, than when, without enquiring what she was, I used And the dewy smile that press'd

to emulate her speed of autumn nights, as she went caGladness from my aching breast;

reering through the drifting clouds ? is her coming more

A TALE OF MOTHERHOOD.

welcome to me now? does she serve my purposes better, has learned, renounce all that he has acquired, and go with all this added knowledge ? Am I benefited by being back to the land of hope and delusion, to inherit their let into the secret of the formation of colours—the mys- boundless patrimony,—to believe his powers equal to his tery of the rainbow? Is the rose lovelier or sweeter, ambition, and mankind commensurate with his wishes ? since I knew that its delicate pencillings were nothing per

z. manent or abiding in itself, but merely produced by its

Old Cerberus. There are some who may think much capacity of absorbing and reflecting certain rays of light,

of this paradoxical ; but to me it is not so. It is all -that its scent is nothing positively sweet,—that the

painfully correct. sensation is in myself, which a certain quality in the The Editor. We shall not, however, brood over it at rose has merely the power of exciting? What has the

present. Here is something of a livelier kind, redolent stupendous discovery of Newton done for me, that I of Scotland, and her delightful traditions of Fairyland. should be grateful for it? Has it tempered the heats of It is the production of one whose name has long been summer, or softened the rigours of winter,--given a sin

well known, and known only to be respected and esgle additional blossom to the spring, or added a sheaf to

teemed : the harvest ? Do the dews of heaven fall more kindly, or the spring taste sweeter, that I know of how many

THE PLOUGHMAN AND FAIRY QUEEN. gases the element is compounded ? 0! what a world of happiness has the knowledge alone

In ancient times, when Fairy Elves of my own puny powers and faculties not destroyed !

Had house and hadden like ourselves, Those were blessed days indeed, when, straining like a

But, 'stead of halls, in knowes of heath bloodhound on the leash, I seemed to stand on the fron

Kept ben and kitchen underneath ; tiers of Fame, feeling conscious of every faculty that was Baked, brew'd, and cook'd their Elfin dinners, necessary to carry me to the highest honours, and only at

And lived like ony christen'd sinners : a loss to choose which of the many paths I should pursue. At times by lawful arts subsisting, What pictures did my youthful fancy not portray! anni.

Bringing at times unlawful grist in, hilating time and space, and feeling the future in the in

Just as we men of mortal make stant. Nothing was to me impossible, because nothing

Sometimes earn, and sometimes take, had been tried. Surrounded, too, as I supposed myself Steal, labour, reave, or beg or borrow, to be, with the wise, the good, and the kind, the dark vo

That we may live, and dine to-morrow;lume of humanity was to me a sealed book. Such were In such old times, when spade and plough my dreams of youthful ignorance ;-how prodigious the Kept clear of cairn and Fairy knowe, expense at which I have purchased the little knowledge With reverential care respected I possess !

What Elves improved—though man neglected ; After frequent and fruitless attempts in various direc

A ploughman wight (his name's unknown) tions, the conviction was at length forced upon me that I

Came bump against a yird-fast stone, had mistaken my powers—that I was a very limitedly And wbilst his arms and shoulders dinnle, endowed mortal, after all—that in place of being fitted to

He peeps into an open'd tunnel, excel in every thing, it was very questionable if I was

By which a “ Wolf's throat"* entrance lay, calculated to excel in any thing. The suspicion and ulti To what or whither, none might say; mate conviction of this have given me more pain than all

Yet being hearty, young, and stout, the pleasure I shall ever reap from knowledge. It brought “ I'll search,” says he, “ the secret out; me down at one fell swoop to the level of my kind, and

As oft, in quest of binks, I've found taught me to consider how, by painful industry, I was to

The honey'd treasure' under ground.” make my way through this every-day worlil. It cost me coronets, military honours, literary and scientific fame,

He set his yads a bite to pluck, the supposed consciousness of lofty and commanding in And in his ploughman shoulders stuck, tellect, wealth and its gaudy additions, the power of do.

Cork'd up the light, and like a mole ing generous and noble actions, the anticipated pleasure

Crawl'd onward through the darken'd hole. of befriending my friends, and receiving their grateful At length the floor beneath him rave, testimony of praise and admiration. Am I answered, by

And down he plump'd into a cave, telling me that these were but the childish delusions of a

Not dank, and dark, and dreary seeming, heated fancy? The happiness they gave was surely no But all with light and splendour beaming, delusion, for it had a positive existence in my mind and

Where green-coat, limber, pranky folks body. My bosom warmed and throbbed to it-the tear

Were making cheer, and cracking jokes, started to my eye to it—it sent the life-blood in spring

Holding their Elfin carnival, tides through my heart—it shortened my hours to mi

Within their subterranean hall. nutes, and my days to hours—it sent me to sleep without

He wish'd to run he tried to risea care, and surrounded my pillow with visions of bliss. But felt of an unwonted size, Could happiness, founded on the most solid truth, do

As if a rock of fifty ton more? What was it to me, that the coinage of my fancy

Deep sunk in earth had tried to run ! was spurious, while I had no suspicion of the cheat? It Around him flock'd the Elfin train, answered all my purposes, the same as if it bad been of

And smirk'd, and smiled, and smirk'd again; actual value, with this immense addition, that, in place

At last a tall imposing figure, of being supplied like the penurious pittance of Truth, I

Full four feet high, or somewhat bigger, had it in a profusion that the most unlimited prodigality

With finger salved his eye, and then could not exhaust.

Back to her circle tripp'd again, The buman heart, too !-- I still clung to my belief in its purity. But Truth threw open this chamber-house

He oped his eye-it was his right one, of rottenness, dashed in pieces the mirror in which Fancy

And now be sure it was a tight one. had portrayed its lovely pictures, and left Memory, like

He saw what never human eye, a child, to pick up and amuse herself with the broken

All unassisted, might espy; fragments. Tell me, ye advocates of Truth, was this a gainful knowledge? I know that your own bosoms must echo the sentiment of the poet, “ Again, who would not

* January-Wafe-Moneth-Sax. : that is, Wolf's month, because

this month is dark and dreary, as is the ixrat of a wolf when he be a boy ?” Who would not willingly forget all that he yawns.

R

SONNET.-TO THE STARS.

ON THE ASCENSION.

The secrets of the Fairy train,
No man might live to tell again.

Beautiful Stars, again assemble ye !
His eye he closed, o'ercome at last,-

Again together, on this Sabbath even, When oped again, the scene had pass'd ;

Brothers and sisters—one bright family, Again, beside his plough he stood,

Around the mother moon ye meet in heaven! His yads again pursued their food;

Now, as I look up from my native vale, Again, in broad and open day,

That in the hush of all things seems to lie The knowe and cairn before him lay.

Dreaming o'er every beauty which, to hail

The morrow's sun, she has in birth, as I May fairs and markets never cease

Gaze on ye, Stars, from where I'd rather die, To grace thy plainstanes, auld Dumfries !

Than elsewhere live a King—my spirit drinks On Wednesdays still may farmers ride

Of life from a new source: For, o'er the sky Along the Nith and Annan side,

As ye spread wide your shining band, methinks To buy and sell, and wet their whistle,

Ye are souls of late departed from our sphere, And set the gude town in a bustle;

Watching o'er some you left who still aro dear! And still may lads wi' fairings meet,

Glasgow.

N. C. Treat bonny lasses in the street, Lochmaben belles,—amid their romping,

The Editor. A translation from the Spanish will Wi' carrot tails to keep them cromping."

agreeably vary so much original writing :
Our eye-enlighten'd Ploughman bold,
Came down from mountain-land to hold

From the Spanish of Louis de Leon,
His bridesman market,-flashing free,
The prime of noble fellows he.

And leav'st thou, Pastor Holy!
On wings of love his money flew-

Thy flock in this dark wilderness and maze, On wings of love and friendship too,

'Midst fear and melancholy, — For friends had throats, and lasses laps,

Dost thou, in glory's blaze, These for drink, and those for snaps,

Calmly ascend to the Infinite of Days ? (As sings our learned friend M‘Diarmid, Whose song full many an ear has charmed,

The wise, the good, the blest, Sunk through the brain into the liver,

Rejoicing once, but now in mournful guise, And made the very heart-strings shiver ;)

The cherish'd in thy breast,And our anointed hero knew

Who now shall sympathize No limits when his purse he drew;

With them, or who shall charm their longing eyes? On either arm a maiden fair

What shall those eyes behold,
Hung with an easy, kindly air,
Like Gilpin's bottles swinging free,

That saw the beauties of their Heavenly Lord,
In bobbing, plunging harmony,

That can delight unfold ? Whilst he, like honest Gilpin knew,

By whom that heard thy word, To keep his balance, needed two.

Will not the world's harsh discord be abhorr'd? Exhausted, out of breath and clink,

This dark and stormy ocean He sat him down at last to think;

Who shall control ? What power the winds shall chide On market cross, with vacant eye

In their tempestuous motion ? Surveying what he might espy ;

If clouds thy form now hide, In Galtish lingo to portray him,

What star the vessel to her port shall guide ? “ On stony settle" glow'ring frae him.

Alas! thou envious cloud !
He saw,--nor might he trust his een,-
His tall green-coated Ellin Queen,

Why with our short-lived pleasure interfere ?
With measure of no common metal

Why in such haste to shroud The size was nearly half a kettle,

Tiny wealth and disappear? From stand to stand, of corn and peas,

How poor, how blind, alas ! thou leav'st us here! Helping herself with greatest ease;

THE Editor. We think the following paper will be As greedy hangman used to ply

perused with interest. is upon an interesting subject, His ladle 'neath the dealer's eye.

and there is a great deal of truth to nature in it : Meanwhile nor eye nor hand essay'd To mark or mar the maiden's trade;

REMINISCENCES OF SCHOOL-DAY SPORTS AND PASTIMES. She came, she paused, she pass'd along

" Like youthful steers unyoked, they take their courses Unchallenged through the mazy throng.

Fast, west, north, south; or like a school broke up,

Each hurries to his home and sporting place" Our Ploughman's bluid was warm and high,

Henry IV. Second Part. And as the figure pass'd bim by,-

Our school-days were, on a reduced scale, somewhat My guid kind dame of Fairy Land, How goes it? let me shake your hand !"

like those of King Richard,-“ frightful, desperate, wild,

and furious." It is true that we had done no evil sufThe lady stopp'd, and stared, and then

ficient to make Blew in his eye with might and main ; That eye he never oped again!

“ Shadows strike more terror to our souls, MORAL.

Than could the substance of ten thousand soldiers ;" Who looks too far into a stone,

but nevertheless our career was characterised by all the Had better let the search alone.

recklessness, temerity, and mischief, common to the years Old Cerberus. I should like to meet with the author of boyhood. of that tale. I will lay my life that he is a social and The King's birth-day was, of course, a holiday, and delightful companion.

was always looked forward to with great pleasure. For Tux Editor. He is, indeed ; and could make allow- some weeks previous, the providing materiel for our bonance for even your eccentricities. Meantime, allow me fire, as we called it, was of no small moment. Our store, to present you with a sonnet from Glasgow :

which was placed by the wall at the end of the play

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