When many griefs the mournful brow shall cloud,
And cares, to youth unknown, around the spirit crowd?

"Thus is the bosom taught

That lesson of delight, which lifts the soul

Up to the source of thought,

Whose splendours round its soaring pinions roll; Beyond the brightness of the golden sun,

From stores of boundless light and living glory won!

"And is it thus, the tomb

Is robbed of terror,

and a ray divine

Beams on its lonely gloom,

Making its pale recess a radiant shrine,

Where kindred hearts should rather sing than weep,
That there the holy dead in peace triumphant sleep?

"Where, for the funeral hymn,

Or wail of grief, the chant of praise should swell,
That then, no longer dim,

The lofty spirit fenced with clay should dwell:
Bnt rise exulting, and with angels, blend

In anthems, and its hopes, in bliss that knows no end!

"This is the priceless boon

The promise offered, and the high reward,
To that true heart, which soon

In young existence, seeks the Blessed Word:
Let but the breast on that broad promise lean,

And life's dark cares are nought, and every trying scene.

"Thus, shorn of power, the toil,

And heat, and burden of its day are brief;
And then, beyond the spoil

And scathe of time, the spirit finds relief;

From earth's Aceldema it turns away,

And basks in visions bright of heaven's eternal day!

"There, where nor cloud, nor gloom

The vernal soil or brilliant sky o'ersweep,
All the redeemed shall come,

With crowns unfading and affection deep;

66

And see life's crystal river roll along,

And hear the tuneful notes of many an angel song!
"Can childhood thus be taught

In early days that blessed path to tread,
Which maketh sorrow nought,

And thornless flowers on every side can spread;
Can find parental love that path descry,

And point its beauty forth to youth's inquiring eye?

"Then, let the way be shown;

And when its inward track is duly found,

And to sweet children known,

Their little footsteps light should

print the ground ;'

So, when their race is ended, they may hear

A Saviour's welcome breathed, within the dying ear!

"A welcome, like the one

Which, at Capernaum, on earth he spake,
When God's incarnate Son,-

And bade his friends love children for his sake;

He spread their guileless ways and charms to view,

And said, like them in heart, be simple, pure, and true.'

"Thus reared, a tender child

The newness of its soul, till death, may keep

Serene and undefiled;

Bright shall its day dreams be, and calm its sleep;

And when the twilight of decline shall come,

A band of seraph forms will guide the spirit home.

And in the courts above,

The Father and the Friend, with smile benign,
Shall in his kindness move,

And grant that spirit in his realms divine;

And, 'midst a scene no mortal eye can see,

Speak the fond words of love- Ye children, come to me!""

I NEVER CAN FORGET A SONG OF THE MASKED BALL,

BY JOSEPH ROBINS.

"Oh! Venice, I shall long remember thee,
With thy Ridotto and its masked baily.
Where meet the gay, the happy, and the free,
In that soul-stirring and enchanted hall;

"Twas there I met the fair and gay Lisette,
And, having seen, I never can forget.

""Twas when the dance was o'er that she withdrew
To breathe the calmness of the evening air,
Her lovely face she then unmask'd to view,
And oh, what beauty had been hidden there!
Love played in every feature of Lisette,
And, having seen, I never can forget.

"And when she left the gay and giddy scene
I felt that all my happiness had gone;
Music and maskers still were to be seen,
But yet I seem'd as if I were alone.
Oh! guide me, Love, to find the fair Lisette,
For, having seen, I never can forget."

ANNE BULLEN.

The accompanying engraving represents the interview betwen Henry the Eighth and Anne Bullen, as described by Shakspeare, where the king says:—

"The fairest hand I ever touched! O beauty,

Till now I never knew thee."

Speaking of Anne Bullen, Mr. Galt says:-Her birth was certainly high, though her father was not noble. Her mother was a daughter of the Duke of Norfolk; her paternal grandmother was scarcely less eminent, being one of the daughters of the Earl of Wiltshire; but her grandfather had only been Lord Mayor of London. When the king's sister was married to Louis XII., Ann Bullen, then in her seventh year, went as one of her train to Paris, and after the death of Louis, on the return of his dowager to Eng

"They went to the Ridotto ;-'tis a hall

Where people dance, and sup, and dance again :
Its proper name, perhaps, were a masked ball,
But that's of no importance to my strain;
'Tis (on a smaller scale) like our Vauxhall,
Excepting that it can't be spoilt by rain:
The company is "mixt," (the phrase I quote is
As much as saying, they're below your notice.)'
Byron's Beppo.

L. 37. 2.

U