THE FAIRIES' SONG.

HARK! for the beetle winds his horn, The dew-drop glitters on the thorn; Now let us to the daisied lawn,

Dancing along.

From acorn cells we spring to view,
In robes of sunshine, tinged with blue,
And pearly bands of evening dew

Bound in our hair.

And now we form the magic ring, And merrily dance and merrily sing; A fairy's dance is a pretty thing

In the moonshine.

But ere the dawn returns again,
We wind along the wooded lane,

And glow-worm torches light the train

All the way home.

TO MISS G.

ON THE DEATH OF HER ROBIN.

WHERE Flora holds her court, arrayed
In tints no art can borrow,
From that fair garden's leafy shade
Proceeds the tone of sorrow.
Why is the tone of sorrow heard? -
It is for Mary's favourite bird.

How late on gay and glossy wing.
He soared, as fancy led him :
And oft a grateful lay would sing

To her who loved and fed him: And little dreamed of ill-but oh! Some wintry blast has laid him low.

But ne'er could Mary's curious quest
Discern, whene'er intruding,

What thoughts within her Robin's breast
From morn to night were brooding:

She knows-and then enough is knownWhat hopes have fluttered in her own.

And may she learn from Robin's end,
To check hope's fond illusion;
And not unfaithful deem her friend,

Nor think it an intrusion,
Who thus with chemic art appears,

To extract a moral from her tears

AN ENIGMA.

YE philosophers hark!

My complexion is dark! Reflection and silence my character mark.

No record on earth

Discovers my birth,

Long reigned I in solitude, silence, and dearth.

I travel away,

In sombre array:

But my turban and sandals are silvery grey.

Majestic my mien,

And my dark form is seen

All sparkling in gems, like an African queen.

One pearl that I wear

Is more brilliant and rare

Than the loveliest gem in a princess's hair.

My stature is tall,

But at seasons I crawl,

Or shrink myself almost to nothing at all.

Invisibly hurled,

I traverse the world,

And o'er every land is my standard unfurled.

I silently roll

Round the icy-bound pole:

And long the wide region endures my control.

From earliest time

I was grave and sublime:

But often am made the accomplice of crime.

My intellect teems

With visions and dreams,

And wild tales of terror, my favourite themes.

Yet sorrow and pain

Oft welcome my reign,

And eagerly watch for my coming again :

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