TO A BOY WITH A WATCH.

Is it not sweet, beloved youth!

To rove through Erudition's bowers,
And cull the golden fruits of Truth,

And gather Fancy's golden flowers?
And is it not more sweet than this,

To feel thy parents' hearts approving,
And pay them back in sums of bliss
The dear, the endless debt of loving?
It must be so to thee, my youth;
With this idea toil is lighter;

This sweetens all the fruits of Truth,

And makes the flowers of Fancy brighter!

The little gift we send thee, boy,

May sometimes teach thy soul to ponder, If indolence or siren joy

Should ever tempt thy soul to wander.

"Twill tell thee that the winged day

Can ne'er be chain'd by man's endeavour;

That life and time shall fade away,

While heaven and virtue bloom for ever!

T. MOORE.

A CATHOLIC HYMN.

OPINION rules the human state,

And domineers in every land:

Shall sea or mountain separate

Whom God hath join'd in Nature's band? Dwell they far off, or dwell they near,

They're all my father's children dear.

Lend me the bright wings of the morn,
That I from hence may take my flight
From Cancer unto Capricorn,

Far swifter than the lamp of night:
Where'er my winged soul doth fly
All's fair and lovely in mine eye.

Features and colours of the hair,
These all do meet in harmony;
The black, the brown, the red, the fair,
All tinctures of variety:

In single simple love alone

These various colours are but one.

In the' phlegmatic I sweetness find,
The melancholy, grave, and wise;
The sanguine, merry to my mind;

From choler flames of love arise:
In single simple love alone
All these complexions are but one.
The nightingale doth never say
(Though he be king of melody)
Unto the cuckoo or the jay,

Why sing you not so sweet as I?
Each tunes his harp in love alone
These various notes are all but one.

With open arms let me embrace

The Heathen, Christian, Turk, or Jew,

The lovely and deformed face,

The sober and the jovial crew.

In single simple love alone

All forms and features are but one.

ANONYMOUS.

STUDIES BY THE SEA.

АH! wherefore do the incurious say,
That this stupendous ocean wide
No change presents from day to day,
Save only the alternate tide;
Or save when gales of summer glide
Across the lightly crisped wave;
Or when against the cliff's rough side,
As equinoctial tempests rave,

It wildly bursts, o'erwhelms the deluged strand,
Tears down its bounds, and desolates the land?

He who with more inquiring eyes

Doth this extensive scene survey
Beholds innumerous changes rise,
As various winds its surface sway;
Now o'er its heaving bosom play
Small sparkling waves of silvery gleam;
And as they lightly glide away

Illume with fluctuating beam

The deepening surge, green as the dewy corn That undulates in April's breezy morn.

The far off waters then assume

A glowing amethystine shade,
That changing like the peacock's plume
Seems in celestial blue to fade;

Or paler, colder hues of lead,

As lurid vapours float on high,

Along the ruffling billows spread,

While darkling lours the threatening sky; And the small scatter'd barks, with outspread

shrouds,

Catch the long gleams that fall beneath the clouds.

Then day's bright star with blunted rays
Seems struggling through the sea-fog pale,
And doubtful in the heavy haze

Is dimly seen the nearing sail;
Till from the land a fresher gale
Disperses the white mist, and clear,
As melts away the gauzy veil,

The sun-reflecting waves appear;
So brighter genuine virtue seems to rise
From Envy's dark invidious calumnies.
What glories on the sun attend,

When the full tides of evening flow,
Where in still-changing beauty blend
With amber light the opal's glow;
While in the east the diamond bow

Rises in virgin lustre bright;

And from the horizon seems to throw
A partial line of trembling light

To the hush'd shore; and all the tranquil deep
Beneath the modest moon is soothed to sleep.
Forgotten then the thundering break
Of waves that in the tempest rise,
The fallen cliff, the shatter'd wreck,
The howling blast, the sufferer's cries;
For soft the breeze of evening sighs,
And murmuring seems in Fancy's ear
To whisper fairy lullabies,

That tributary waters bear

From precipices, dark with piny woods,
And inland rocks and heathy solitudes.

The vast encircling seas within

What endless swarms of creatures hide

Of burnish'd scale and spiny fin!
These providential instincts guide,

And bid them know the annual tide,
When from unfathom'd waves, that swell
Beyond Fuego's stormy side,

They come, to cheer the tribes that dwell In Boreal climes; and through his half year's night Give to the Lapland savage food and light.

From cliffs that pierce the northern sky, Where eagles rear their sanguine brood, With long awaiting patient eye, Baffled by many a sailing cloud, The Highland native marks the flood, Till bright the quickening billows roll, And hosts of seabirds, clamouring loud, Track with wild wing the welcome shoal, Swift o'er the animated current sweep, And bear their silver captives from the deep.

Sons of the North! your streamy vales
With no rich sheaves rejoice and sing;
Her flowery robe no fruit conceals,

Though sweetly smile your tardy spring;
Yet every mountain, clothed with ling,
Doth from its purple brow survey
Your busy sails, that ceaseless bring

To the broad frith and sheltering bay
Riches, by Heaven's parental power supplied,
The harvest of the far embracing tide.

And where those fractured mountains lift
O'er the blue wave their towering crest,
Each salient ledge and hollow cleft
To sea fowl give a rugged nest.
VOL. I.

SS