"Open your hospitable door,

And shield me from the biting blast; Cold, cold it blows across the moor,

The weary moor that I have pass'd."

With hasty steps the farmer ran,

And close beside the fire they place The poor half-frozen beggar man,

With shaking limbs and pale blue face.

The little children flocking came,

And chafed his frozen hands in theirs, And busily the good old dame

A comfortable mess prepares.

Their kindness cheer'd his drooping soul,
And slowly down his wrinkled cheek
The big round tear was seen to roll,

And told the thanks he could not speak.

The children then began to sigh,

And all their merry chat was o'er,

And yet they felt, they knew not why,

More glad than they had done before.

MISS AIKIN.

H

LOVE UNCHANGEABLE.

LET me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,

Or bends with the remover to remove :
Oh no! it is an ever-fixèd mark,

That looks on tempests, and is never shaken;

It is the star to every wandering bark,

Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come;

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,

But bears it out e'en to the edge of doom.

If this be error, and upon me proved,

I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

-Sonnets.

W. SHAKSPEARE, 1564-1616.

TO MARY IN HEAVEN.

THOU lingering star, with lessening ray,
That lov'st to greet the early morn,

Again thou usher'st in the day

My Mary from my soul was torn.

O Mary! dear departed shade!

Where is thy place of blissful rest? Seest thou thy lover lowly laid?

Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast?

That sacred hour can I forget!—

Can I forget the hallow'd grove Where by the winding Ayr we met To live one day of parting love! Eternity will not efface

Those records dear of transports past! Thy image at our last embrace

Ah! little thought we 'twas our last!

Ayr, gurgling, kiss'd his pebbled shore,
O'erhung with wild woods, thickening green;
The fragrant birch, and hawthorn hoar,

Twined amorous round the raptured scene.
The flowers sprung wanton to be press'd,
The birds sung love on every spray,
Till too, too soon the glowing west
Proclaim'd the speed of wingèd day.

Still o'er these scenes my memory wakes,
And fondly broods, with miser care;
Time but the impression deeper makes,
As streams their channels deeper wear.
My Mary! dear departed shade!

Where is thy place of blissful rest?

Seest thou thy lover lowly laid?

Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast?

ROBERT BURNS, 1759–1796.

TASTE LIFE'S GLAD MOMENTS.

TASTE Life's glad moments,

Whilst the wasting taper glows;
Pluck, ere it withers,

The quickly-fading rose.

Man blindly follows grief and care,

He seeks for thorns and finds his share,
Whilst violets to the passing air

Unheeded shed their blossoms.
Taste Life's, &c.

When tim'rous Nature veils her form,
And rolling thunder spreads alarm,

Then, ah! how sweet when, lull'd the storm,
The sun shines forth at even.

Taste Life's, &c.

When spleen and envy anxious flies,
And meek content, in humble guise,
Improves the shrub, a tree will rise,
Which golden fruits shall yield him.
Taste Life's, &c.

Who fosters faith in upright breast,

And freely gives to the distress'd,

There sweet contentment builds her nest,
And flutters round his bosom.

Taste Life's, &c.

And when life's path grows dark and strait,

And pressing ills on ills await,

Then Friendship, sorrow to abate,

The helping hand will offer.
Taste Life's, &c.

She dries his tears, she strews his way,
E'en to the grave, with flow'rets gay;
Turns night to morn, and morn to day,
And pleasure still increases.
Taste Life's, &c.

Of life she is the fairest band,
Joins brothers truly hand in hand,
Thus, onward to a better land,

Man journeys light and cheerily.
Taste Life's, &c.

SIR A. BOSWELL, 1775-1822.

-From the German.

AE GUDE TURN DESERVES ANITHER.

YE mauna be proud, although ye be great,
The puirest body is still your brither;
The king may come in the cadger's gate-
Ae gude turn deserves anither.