9.

A few brief months!-and then I sought this favourite haunt once more,

Treading, with slow and mournful steps, the loved and lonely shore,

Loved it had been in youth's warm flush,-in boyhood's sanguine glee,—

But dearer far, in grief's dark hour, its loneliness to

me!

10.

I wandered here, and mused on hopes, once glorious in their light,—

On disappointment's chilling clouds, which veiled those hopes in night;—

-Yet, with such musings, strength was given life's needful ills to bear,

And glimpses of that purer bliss which sorrow must prepare!

11.

What marvel, then, if-loitering here, alone, at even

tide,

Alternate thoughts of joy and grief, by memory, are

supplied!

What marvel that their light and shade should borrow,

from the scene,

A tone for thoughtless mirth too sad-for sorrow too

serene !

12.

There is a mood of mind, whose sway can darkest

thoughts beguile,

Whose voiceless tear is brighter far than pleasure's

gayest smile;

There is a feeling-chastened, calm as day's most gentle

close,

Whose quiet influence seems to hush the spirit to repose.

13.

And O! what gratitude is due to HIM from whom,

alone,

This holy, tranquillizing power to man can be made

known;

Whose Word divine can bid the strife of earth-born

passions cease,

And give the mourner-tempest-tossed-the calm of heart-felt peace!

A

IMPROMPTU, TO ORIANA.

On attending, with her, as Sponsors, at a Christening.

BY THOMAS GENT, ESQ.

LADY! who didst,-with angel-look and smile,
And the pure lustre of those dear, dark eyes,-
Gracefully bend before the font of Christ,
In humble adoration, faith, and prayer!
How, as the infant pledge of friends beloved
Received, from thy pure lips, its future name,—
Sweetly unconscious looked the baby boy!
How beautifully helpless,-and how mild!
-Methought, a seraph spread her sheltering wings
Over the solemn scene ;-and as the sun,
In its full splendour, on the altar came,
God's blessings seemed to sanctify the deed!

TO SIR WALTER SCOTT, BART

BY JOHN GALT, ESQ.

On the publication of Marmion.

O SURE, when stretched on verdant knoll, 'Mid Ettrick's haunted scenery,

Viewing the vassal runnels roll,

To where the clear day summer beam,
On well-sung Tweed's baronial stream,
Held gay and flickering revelry;

Some gentle fairy, resting nigh,
Beneath her daisy canopy,

Heard the entranced truant sigh

For deeds of bold and earnest toil,

The borderer's joy of speed and spoil,

And pomp of knightly panoply !

And pleased a child so rare to find,
So meet for noble chivalry,

A spell of elfin art combined,
That gave thee all thy soul desired,
Whatever chief or champion fired,
In blest and blessing poesy!

N

EPITAPH ON A DOG,

Of the Hospice of the Great St. Bernard,-half tombed within its Frozen Lake, by the Fall of an Avalanche.

BY WILLIAM SOTHEBY, ESQ.

FRIEND of mankind!-thy service done,
Rise thou no more from troubled rest!
Nor, watchful of the setting sun,

Where pilgrims wander, widely quest;—
As if their sufferings were thine own,
And thou wert born for man alone.

Thou never more, when raves the wind,
Shalt, o'er the Alps, thy master guide;
No more, when drifting snow-flakes blind,
Shalt turn his step from death aside,
Hang on his hand, and woo him back,
While instinct yet retains the track!

Thou ne'er again, beneath the snows,

Shalt search the cleft, and treacherous cave,