ΤΟ A ROBIN RED-BREAST, IN NOVEMBER. HARK! 'tis the Robin's shrill yet mellow pipe, Deep overhowered by broad geranium leaves, "Tis earliest sunrise; through the watery mass Of vapour, moving on like shadowy isles, K Silently through the pale gray cope of heaven, Looks out the day :-all things are still and calm; Little bird! Why, with unnatural tameness, com'st thou thus To the abodes of man? Doth the rude wind Through the bright sheltering bowers, where cheerily Food for thy little wants; and Poverty, With tiny grip, drive thee to hostile walls, Queen of the iron rod, implacable, Oft makes the darkest, most repugnant things Of all we feared-or hated-or despised;- When day shuts in upon our hopes, and night Ushers blank darkness only. Therefore we Should pity thee, and have compassion on Out on unfeeling man! Will he, who drives the beggar from his gate, Each avenue of feeling, will he deign To think that such as thou deserve his aid? No! when the gust raves, and the floods descend, Thy bright eyes closed, and tiny talons clenched, Stiff in the gripe of death. 'Tis not in mighty things That the benevolent heart is truly shown, But in the tone and temper of the mind, To pity, ready to forgive, intent Oh! as we hope Forgiveness of our earthly trespasses, Of all our erring deeds and wayward thoughts, From pity never turning, mould our hearts Which soothed and stilled the murmurs of distress. Δ. MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS AND CHATELAR; OR Twilight Musings in Holyrood. THERE are no mysteries into which we are so fond of diving as the mysteries of the heart. The hero of the best novel in the world, if he could not condescend to fall in love, might march through his three volumes and excite no more sensation than his grandmother; and a newspaper without a breach of a promise of marriage, is a thing not to be endured. It is not my intention to affect any singular exception from this natural propensity, and I am ready to confess that the next best thing to being in love one's self, is to speculate on the hopes and fears and fates of others. How truly interesting are the little schemes and subterfuges, the romancing and storytelling of our dove-eyed and gentle-hearted playfellows! I have listened to a lame excuse for a stolen ride in a tilbury, or a duett in the woods, with wonderful sensibility; and have witnessed the ceremony of cross-questioning with as much trepidation as |