THE PASI.

How wild and dim this Life appears!

One long, deep, heavy sigh!

When o'er our eyes, half-closed in tears,

The images of former years

Are faintly glimmering by!

And still forgotten while they go,

As on the sea-beach wave on wave

Dissolves at once in snow.

Upon the blue and silent sky

The amber-clouds one moment lie,
And like a dream are gone!

Though beautiful the moon-beams play,
On the lake's bosom bright as they,
And the soul intensely loves their stay,
Soon as the radiance melts away
We scarce believe it shone !

Heaven-airs amid the harp-strings dwell,
And we wish they ne'er may fade-
They cease! and the soul is a silent cell,
Where music never played.

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Dream follows dream through the long night-hours,

Each lovelier than the last

But ere the breath of morning flowers,

That gorgeous world flies past.

And many a sweet angelic cheek,

Whose smiles of love and kindness speak,

Glides by us on this earth

While in a day we cannot tell

Where shone the face we loved so well

In sadness or in mirth.

TO A SLEEPING CHILD.

ART thou a thing of mortal birth,
Whose happy home is on our earth?
Does human blood with life embue,
Those wandering veins of heavenly blue,

That stray along thy forehead fair,

Lost 'mid a gleam of golden hair?

Oh! can that light and airy breath
Steal from a being doomed to death;
Those features to the grave be sent
In sleep thus mutely eloquent ;

Or, art thou, what thy form would seem,
The phantom of a blessed dream?

A human shape I feel thou art,

I feel it at my beating heart,

Those tremors both of soul and sense
Awoke by infant innocence !

Though dear the forms by fancy wove,
We love them with a transient love;
Thoughts from the living world intrude
Even on her deepest solitude:
But, lovely child! thy magic stole

At once into my inmost soul,
With feelings as thy beauty fair,

And left no other vision there.

To me thy parents are unknown;
Glad would they be their child to own!
And well they must have loved before,
If since thy birth they loved not more.
Thou art a branch of noble stem,
And seeing thee I figure them.

What many a childless one would give,
If thou in their still home wouldst live!
Though in thy face no family-line
Might sweetly say, "This babe is mine!"
In time thou wouldst become the same
As their own child,-all but the name!

WILLIAM EDMONDSTONE AYTOUN.

PROF. AYTOUN, editor of "Blackwood's Magazine," and author of "Lays of the Scottish Cavaliers," is a member of the Edinburgh bar, but has never, we believe, devoted himself to any extent to the severer duties of his profession. Some five or six years ago he succeeded Mr. Moir as professor of literature and belles-lettres in the University of Edinburgh, where his lectures-full of pith, energy, and distinguished by fine literary taste-are in great vogue. Professor Aytoun has been for some years one of the chief contributors to "Blackwood's Magazine," and few numbers appear from which his hand is absent. At the time of the railway mania, he flung a series of papers-the first entitled, "How we got up the Glen Mutchkin Railway," descriptive of the doings in the Capel Court of Edinburgh and Glasgow-papers which, for broad, vigorous humor, and felicitous setting forth of genuine Scottish character, are almost unrivalled. Under the nom de guerre of Augustus Dunshunner, then first adopted-the professor frequently contributes pieces of off-hand criticism on books and men to "Blackwood," taking especial delight in showing up what he conceives to be the weak points of the Manchester school; and humorous though the general tone of the papers be, hesitates not to dash headlong at piles of statistics intended to prop up the fallen causes of protection. Mr. Aytoun's politics, as may be inferred from his sole work, published in an independent form, the "Lays of the Scottish Cavaliers," are high tory, or rather they amount to a sort of poetic and theoretical Jacobitism.

EDINBURGH AFTER FLODDEN.

THE great battle of Flodden was fought upon the 9th of September, 1513. The defeat of the Scottish army, resulting mainly from the fantastic ideas of chivalry entertained by James IV., and his refusal to avail himself of the natural advantages of his position, was by far the most disastrous of any recounted in the history of the northern wars. The whole strength of the kingdom, both Lowland and Highland, was assembled, and the contest was one of the sternest and most desperate upon record.

For several hours the issue seemed doubtful. On the left the Scots obtained a decided advantage; on the right wing they were broken and overthrown; and at last the whole weight of the battle was brought into the centre, where King James and the Earl of Surrey commanded in person. The determined valor of James, imprudent as it was, had the effect of rousing to a pitch of desperation the courage of the meanest soldiers; and the ground becoming soft and slippery from blood, they pulled off their boots and shoes, and secured a firmer footing by fighting in their hose.

The combat was maintained with desperate fury until nightfall. At the close, according to Mr. Tytler, "Surrey was uncertain of the result of the battle: the remains of the enemy's centre still held the field; Home, with his Borderers, still hovered on the left; and the commander wisely allowed neither pursuit nor plunder, but drew off his men, and kept a strict watch during the night. When the morning broke, the Scottish artillery were seen standing deserted on the side of the hill: their defenders had disappeared; and the Earl ordered thanks to be given for a victory which was no longer doubtful. Yet, even after all this, a body of the Scots appeared unbroken upon a hill, and were about to charge the Lord Admiral, when they were compelled to leave their position by a discharge of the English ordnance.

"The loss of the Scots in this fatal battle amounted to about ten thousand men. Of these, a great proportion were of high rank; the remainder being composed of the gentry, the farmers, and landed yeomanry, who disdained to fly when their sovereign and his nobles lay stretched in heaps around them."

The loss to Edinburgh on this occasion was peculiarly great. All the magistrates and ablebodied citizens had followed their King to Flodden, whence very few of them returned.

It is impossible to describe the consternation which pervaded the whole of Scotland when the intelligence of the defeat became known. In Edinburgh it was excessive. Mr. Arnot, in the history of that city, says,—

"The news of their overthrow in the field of Flodden reached Edinburgh on the day after the battle, and overwhelmed the inhabitants with grief and confusion. The streets were crowded with women seeking intelligence about their friends, clamoring and weeping. Those who officiated in absence of the magistrates proved themselves worthy of the trust. They issued a proclamation, ordering all the inhabitants to assemble in military array for defence of the city on the tolling of the bell; and commanding, that all women, and especially strangers, do repair to their work, and not be seen upon the street clamorand and cryand; and that women of the better sort do repair to the church and offer up prayers, at the stated hours, for our Sovereign Lord and his army, and the townsmen who are with the army." "