BOWLES, whose poetry enjoys the distinction of "having delighted and inspired the genius of Coleridge,"—thus portrays, with "Dutch minuteness and perspicacity of colouring," South American Scenery : Beneath aërial cliffs and glittering snows, And Chillan trailed its smoke and smouldering fires A glen beneath a lonely spot of rest- Amid the clear blue light, are wandering by ; And, stealing drop by drop, in mist descends; There, through the trunks, with moss and lichens white, 293 And, mid the cedar's darksome bough, illumes, With instant touch, the lori's scarlet plumes. These lines on Childhood are by MACKWORTH PRAED:— Once on a time, when sunny May Upon a bank of blushing flowers ; And smiling,-who could choose but love him? For not more glad was Childhood's brow Than the blue heaven that beamed above him. Old Time, in most appalling wrath, That valley's green repose invaded; The birds were mute, the lilies faded; Then stepped a gloomy phantom up, Pale, cypress-crowned, Night's awful daughter, Full to the brim, of bitter water : Poor Childhood bade her tell her name; And when the beldame muttered "Sorrow," He said "Don't interrupt my game,— I'll taste it, if I must, to-morrow." Then Wisdom stole his bat and ball, And taught him, with most sage endeavour, Why bubbles rise, and acorns fall, And why no toy may last forever: She talked of all the wondrous laws Which Nature's open book discloses, Of cherished love, or hoarded treasure: And glimpses of remembered heaven! MOTHERWELL, the Scottish poet, sketched his beautiful outline of Jeanie Morrison when only fourteen years of age. His plaintive and picturesque poetry has attracted the admiration of many, and especially that of Prof. Wilson. List to one of his lyrics : Could love impart, by nicest art, To speechless rocks a tongue, · Their theme would be, beloved, of thee, And clerk-like, then, with sweet amen, Would echo from each hollow Reply all day; while gentle fay, With merry whoop, would follow. Had roses sense, on no pretence Would they their buds unroll; For, could they speak, 'twas from thy cheek Had lilies eyes, with glad surprise, They'd own themselves outdone, When thy pure brow and neck of snow Gleamed in the morning sun. Could shining brooks, by amorous looks, Then, every sound that murmured round * * * His lines on Summer are beautifully expressed : They come the merry Summer months of Beauty, Song, and Flowers; They come the gladsome months that bring thick leafiness to bowers; Up, up, my heart, and walk abroad; fling cark and care aside, Scan through its leaves the cloudless sky in rapt tranquillity. There is no cloud that sails along the ocean of yon sky, But hath its own winged mariners to give it melody; Thou seest their glittering fans outspread, all gleaming like red gold; And hark! with shrill pipe musical, their merry course they hold. God bless them all, those little ones, who, far above this earth, Can make a scoff of its mean joys, and vent a nobler mirth. The Gude-Wife, a touching little poem, by James Linen, of California, Mr. Bryant has pronounced not unworthy of Burns :— I feel I'm growing auld, gude-wife-I feel I'm growing auld; I feel I'm growing auld, gude-wife—I feel I'm growing auld; I canna bear the dreary thocht that we maun sindered be; There's naething binds my poor auld heart to earth, gude-wife, but thee. * Here is a sweet, touching poem : Sleep on, baby on the floor, tired of all thy playing Sleep with smile the sweeter for that you dropped away in ; On your curls' fair roundness stand golden lights serenely; |