TO A BOY WITH A WATCH. Is it not sweet, beloved youth! To rove through Erudition's bowers, And gather Fancy's golden flowers? To feel thy parents' hearts approving, 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, Far swifter than the lamp of night: Features and colours of the hair, In single simple love alone These various colours are but one. In the' phlegmatic I sweetness find, From choler flames of love arise: Why sing you not so sweet as I? 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, It wildly bursts, o'erwhelms the deluged strand, He who with more inquiring eyes Doth this extensive scene survey 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, 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 Is dimly seen the nearing sail; The sun-reflecting waves appear; When the full tides of evening flow, Rises in virgin lustre bright; And from the horizon seems to throw To the hush'd shore; and all the tranquil deep That tributary waters bear From precipices, dark with piny woods, The vast encircling seas within What endless swarms of creatures hide Of burnish'd scale and spiny fin! And bid them know the annual tide, 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 Though sweetly smile your tardy spring; To the broad frith and sheltering bay And where those fractured mountains lift SS |