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By grief, years, weariness—and it may be
A taint of that he would impute to me
From long infection of a den like this,
Where the mind rots congenial with the abyss,
Adores thee still; and add-that when the towers
And battlements which guard his joyous hours
Of banquet, dance, and revel are forgot,
Or left untended in a dull repose,
This this shall be a consecrated spot!
But Thou—when all that Birth and Beauty throws
Of magic round thee is extinct-shalt have
One half the laurel which o'ershades my grave.

in death can tear our names apart, As none in life could rend thee from

my heart. Yes, Leonora ! it shall be our fate To be entwined for ever-but too late!


The Bible.

What is the world?-A wildering maze,
Where sin hath track'd ten thousand ways,

Her victims to ensnare;
All broad, and winding, and a slope,
All tempting with perfidious hope,

All ending in despair.
Millions of pilgrims throng those roads,
Bearing their baubles, or their loads,

Down to eternal night:
-One humble path, that never bends,
Narrow, and rough, and steep, ascends

From darkness unto light.
Is there a guide to shew that path?
The Bible:-He alone, who hath

The Bible, need not stray :
Yet he who hath, and will not give
That heavenly guide to all that live,
Himself shall lose the way.


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The Fickleness of Love. ALAS! how light a cause may move Dissension between hearts that love! Hearts that the world in vain has tried, And sorrow but more closely tied ; That stood the storm when waves were rough, Yet, in a sunny hour fall off, Like ships that have gone down at sea, When heaven was all tranquillity! A something light as air--a look,

A word unkind or wrongly taken-
Oh! love, that tempests never shook,

A breath, a touch, like this has shaken.
And ruder words will soon rush in
To spread the breach that words begin ;
And eyes forget the gentle ray
They wore in courtship’s smiling day ;
And voices lose the tone that shed
A tenderness round all they said ;
Till fast declining, one by one,
The sweetnesses of love are gone;
And hearts, so lately mingled, seem
Like broken clouds-or like the stream
That smiling left the mountain's brow,

As though its waters ne’er could sever,
Yet, e'er it reach the plains below,

Breaks into floods that part for ever. O you that have the charge of love,

Keep him in rosy bondage bound,
As in the fields of bliss above

He sits, with flow'rets fetter'd round ;-
Loose not a tie that round him clings,
Nor ever let him use his wings ;
For even an hour, a minute's flight,
Will rob the plumes of half their light.
Like that celestial bird, whose nest

Is found below far eastern skies,
Whose wings, though radiant when at rest,

Lose all their glory when he flies !


Some difference of this dangerous kind, r: By which, though tight, the links that bind 11911'N -The fondest hearts may soon be riven';;

1 B11901 Some shadow in love's summer heaven, Which, though a fleecy speck at first, May yet in awful' thunder burst. D'fhb!


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This is a beautiful but true description of the changes that occur almost every day in life,-changes produced by things as light as air—a louka word unkind or wrongly taken a breath a touch. . There are several excellent similes; notice that stone the storm--Like ships that have--A something light as air-hearts seem like broken clouds--Like the stream breaking into floods that part for ever.


OH! heard you yon pibroch sound sad in the gale,
Where a band cometh slowly with weeping and wail?
'Tis the Chief of Glenara laments for his dear;
And her sire and her people are callid to her bier.
Glenara came first, with the mourners and shroud;
Her kinsmen they follow'd, but mourn'd not aloud ;
Their plaids all their bosoms were folded around ;
They march'd all in silence-they look'd to the ground.
In silence they reach'd over mountain and moor,
To a heath, where the oak-tree grew lonely and hoar,
Now here let us place the grey-stone of her cair

Why speak ye no 'word ?" said Glenara the stern. « And tell me, I charge you, ye clan of my spouse, “ Why fold ye your mantles, why cloud ye your

brows?" So spake the rude chieftain no answer is made, But each mantle unfolding, a dagger display'a. “ I dream'd of my lady, I dream'de of her shroud,” Cried a voice from the kinsmen, all wrathfuland loud; And empty that shroud, and that coffin did seem : « Glenara! Glenara! now read me my dream!

Oh! pale grew the cheek of the chieftain I ween;? When the shroud was unclos'd, and no body was seen. Then a voice from the kinsmen spoke louder in scorn'Twas the youth that had lov'd the fair Ellen of Lorn“ I dream'd of my lady, I dream'd of her grief, “ I dream'd that her lord was a barbarous chief ; « On a rock of the ocean fair Ellen did seem : " Glenara! Glenara! now read me my dream !" In dust low the traitor has knelt to the ground, And the desert reveal'd where his lady was found ; From a rock of the ocean that beauty is borne ;, , Now joy to the house of fair Ellen of Lorn!


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Song, from the Lady of the Lake.

Soldier, rest ! thy warfare o'er,

Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking;
Dream of battled fields no more,

Days of danger, nights of waking.
In our isle's enchanted hall,

Hands unseen thy couch are strewing;
Fairy strains of music fall,

Every sense in slumber dewing.
Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er,
Dream of fighting fields no more ;
Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking,
Morn of toil, nor night of waking.
No rude sound shall reach thine ear,

Armour's clang, or war-steed champing,
Trump nor pibroch summon here

Mustering clan, or squadron tramping.
Yet the lark's shrill fife may come

At the day-break from the fallow,
And the bittern sound his drum,

Booming from the sedgy shallow.
Ruder sounds shall none be near ;
Guards nor warders challenge here;

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· Here's no war-steed's neigh and champingsbaia Shouting clans, for squadrons trampingano bora

2":"busłą vuoy I 0? Huntsman,, rest! thy chase is done, 971692 ne

While our slumberous spells assail you, idt oT
Dream not with the rising sun, to sift bar

Bugles here shall sound reveillie.
Sleep ! the deer is in his den ; fic 'nes. á 7419 duð

Sleep! thy hounds are by thee lying 312 14.5
Sleep ! nor dream in yonder glen,

How thy gallant steed lay dying.
Huntsman, rest; thy chase is done,
Think not of the rising sun,
For at dawning to assail you,

syl Here no bugles sound reveillie.


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Public Fasts.

* B1 wil
Why fastings, when calamity at last 1.1
Suggests the expedient of a yearly fast: 10 001
What mean they? Can’st thou dream there is a power
In lighter diet at a later hour,
To charm to sleep the threatening of the skies, tuit
And hide past folly from All-seeing eyes ?
The fast that wins deliverance, and suspends
The stroke that a vindictive God intends,
Is to renounce hypocrisy; to draw
Thy life upon the pattern of the law;
To war with pleasure, idolized before ;
To vanquish lust, and wear its yoke no more,
All fasting else, whate'er be the pretence,
Is wooing mercy by renew'd offences

Çowper. ,

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Kemble's Address on taking a Final Leave of the

Edinburgh Stage. As the worn war-horse, at the trumpet's sound, Erects his mane, and neighs, and paws the ground,

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