Long years have past-'twas on a festal night,

A night of innocent mirth and revelry,

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When bounding throbb'd the youthful heart, and smiles
Play'd, meteor-like, upon a hundred cheeks
As if contagiously; while sparkling lamps
Pour'd forth a deluging lustre o'er the crowd,
And music, like a Syren, wean'd the heart
From every grovelling and contentious thought,
From every care. Amid familiar friends,
The lovely, and the faithful, glad I stood
To mark them all so joyous. As I gazed
An eye encounter'd mine, that startled me
Sure never breathing creature was more fair!
Amid the mazy movements of the dance,
Accordant to the music's finest tone,
Sylph-like she floated; graceful as the swan
Oaring its way athwart a summer lake,
Her step almost as silent:-as she stood,
Again that heavenly eye encounter'd mine.
Pale was the brow, as if serenest thought,
Quiet, and innocence, alone dwelt there;
But yet, around the rosy lips, there play'd
A laughing smile, like Hebe's, which dispell'd
Its calmness, and betoken'd life and joy.
Her golden tresses, from her temples pale,
And from her rounded alabaster neck,
Were filletted up with roses and gay flowers,
Wove like a garland round them: skiey robes,
The tincture of the young Year's finest blue,
Were thrown in beauty round her graceful form,
And added to its brightness; so that he,
Who dwelt on it delighted, almost fear'd
The vision would disperse into the air,
And mock his gaze with vacancy.'Tis past.
Years have outspread their shadowy wings between,
But yet the sound of that fair lady's voice
Hath been a music to my soul unheard;
The lightning of that glorious countenance,
The shining richness of that golden hair,
The fascination of those magic eyes,
The smiling beauty of those small red lips,
The graceful lightness of that angel form,
Have been to me but things of memory.-
Before that festal night, 'mid woman-kind,
That peerless form did never bless my view,
It was to me a blank-a thing unknown ;-
After that festal night, my wistful eyes
Have never feasted on its loveliness;

I know not whence it came-or whither fled-
I know not by what human name 'tis call'd
Whether 'tis yet a blossom of this earth,

Or, long ere this, transplanted into Heaven! da
It is to me a treasure of the mind,

A picture in the chambers of the brain

Hung up, and framed-a flower from youthful years,
Breath'd on by heavenly zephyrs, and preserved

Safe from decay, in everlasting bloom!

It cannot be that, for abiding place,
This earth alone is ours; it cannot be
That for a fleeting span of chequer'd years,

१

Why, then, from out the temple of our hearts, 12 [./
Do aspirations spring, that overleap...

The barriers of our mortal destiny,

And chain us to the very gates of Heaven?

Why does the beauty of a vernal morn,

When earth, exulting from her wintry tomb,

"

Breaks forth with early flowers, and song of birds, ») ***
Strike on our hearts, as ominous, and say,
Surely man's fate is such ?-At summer eve,
Why do the faery, unsubstantial clouds,
Trick'd out in rainbow garments, glimmer forth
To mock us with their loveliness, and tell
That earth hath not of these?-The tiny stars,
That gem in countless crowds the midnight sky, *:
Why were they placed so far beyond the grasp
Of sight and comprehension, so beyond.
The expansion of our limited faculties,

If, one day, like the isles that speck the main,
These worlds shall spread not open to our view ?→→→
Why do the mountain-steeps their solitudes

Expand?-or, roaring down the dizzy rocks, rati
The mighty cataracts descend in foam?

Is it to shew our insignificance?

To tell us we are nought ?-And, finally,
If born not to behold supernal things,
Why have we glimpses of beatitude
Have images of majesty and beauty

Presented to our gaze and taken from us?-
For Thou art one of such, most glorious form!
A portion of some unseen paradise,

That visitest the silence of my thought,
Rendering life beautiful.

Δ.

STANZAS.

On visiting a Scene of Childhood.

"I came to the place of my birth and said, "The friends of my youth, where are they?' and Echo answered, Where are they.'

999

Long years had elapsed since I gazed on the scene,
Which my fancy still robed in its freshness of green;
The spot where, a school-boy all thoughtless I stray'd
By the side of the stream, in the gloom of the shade.

I thought of the friends who had roam'd with me there,
When the sky was so blue, and the flowers were so fair;
All scatter'd all sunder'd, by mountain and wave,
And some in the cold silent womb of the grave!

I thought of the green banks that circled around,

With wild-flowers, with sweet-briar, and eglantine crown'd.-
I thought of the river, all stirless and bright

As the face of the sky on a blue summer night.

And I thought of the trees under which we had stray'd,
Of the broad leafy boughs, with their coolness of shade;
And I hoped, though disfigur'd, some token to find"
Of the names, and the carvings, impress'd on the rind.

All eager I hasten'd the scene to behold,

Render'd sacred and dear by the feelings of old,
And I deem'd that, unalter'd, my eye should explore
This refuge, this haunt, this Elysium of yore!

'Twas a dream not a token or trace could I view
Of the names that I loved, of the trees that I knew ;
Like the shadows of night at the dawning of day,
Like a tale that is told they had vanish'd away!

And methought the lone river that murmur'd along,
Was more dull in its motion, more sad in its song,
Since the birds, that had nestled, and warbled above,
Had all fled from its banks, at the fall of the
grove!

I paused, and the moral came home to my heart,—
Behold how of earth all the glories depart;
Our visions are baseless-our hopes but a gleam,
Our staff but a reed, and our life but a dream!

Then, oh! let us look-let our prospects allure
To scenes that can fade not, to realms that endure,
To glories, to blessings, that triumph sublime
O'er the blightings of Change, and the ruins of Time!

AND ALL THE PEOPLE SHOUTED, AND SAID, GOD SAVE THE KING. 1 SAMUEL X. 24.

THE KING.

than what may be sufficient to force themselves into power. They covet no more of the earthquake than what may be enough to break down their own dungeon-wall of opposition, and let them out with the light and air of royal favour.

passion; it endeavours to remove him beyond the stain of human crime, and declares that he "can do no wrong;" the tumults and labours of public life convulse a region below his feet, while the Kingly Abstraction sits undisturbed, his duty superintendence, and his merit that of maintaining a blameless throne.

This is the requisition of the law, and with less than this it will not be satisfied; but precludes no manly and patriotic interest in the struggles of the country; and within the shadow of that solemn and hallowed robe of royalty, it allows all the impulses of the generous heart of man.

But the result of this giddy obloquy ought to have been foreseen. Not a word of those personalities was lost upon the multitude of diseased minds, and desperate fortunes, that hung upon the speeches of party; the spirit dark ened as it descended; what was sport to the rhetorical reformer within the House, was stimulated passion, and projected regicide to the sincere revolutionist without,-metaphoric folly was the parent of malignity and madness. This has passed away, and the shock to our Constitution has braced it with additional vigour. The pub-continent was crushed, the ancient delic feeling seems to be anxious to atone, by its willing and declared homage, the offence of the rabble of reform; and at this moment, the King of England is, in the highest sense of the word, popular.

It was not possible that he should be long otherwise. Avoiding even the common complimentary language addressed to princes, throwing out of the account all abilities, accomplish ments, all that may distinguish his Majesty as an individual, and looking upon him only as a public being, it was not possible that the national feeling could have long refused its homage to a Sovereign free from even the imputation of a political crime. There is not a living man who can charge the King with a perversion of the law ;with an oppression of the subject,— with the remotest tendency to use the great power of the throne to the prejudice of the constitution.

This is much, and it is perhaps all that is required for constitutional respect. The law of England supersedes the necessity for the frequent interference of royal faculties and virtues. The King is relieved from that restless mixture with state exigencies, which makes the peculiarity and the weakness of foreign governments. He is not called on to be the soldier or the secretary of his own cabinet. The spirit of English legislation invests him with a loftier character of universal supremacy, that he may be as far as possible beyond the sphere of human

What the King has done is matter of record. In 1811, he was called to be sole Regent. We were then in the midst of a mighty war. The strength of the

fences of the great European Society were beaten down by a rude and headlong violence, which seemed raised for the purposes of a ruin surpassing the strength of man, or his hope of restora tion. The world was deluged with confusion. To assume the sceptre at such a period without adding to the national perplexities by the rashness habitual to new power, was of itself no slight praise. To have simply sailed down in the vessel of the state without a dangerous interference with its course or its crew, without the vanity of exhibiting untried skill, or the gratification of repelling services in which he had no original choice, would have been meritorious.. But the Prince Regent had to divest himself of long and accustomed impressions, he had to postpone personal feelings to the general advantage, and to prefer to men of captivating companionship, others less likely to sacrifice their opinions, but more furnished with the qualities for governing the state. Of the result of this determination we feel the benefits, and shall feel them as long as we have a country. We feel them in our military renown, in our commercial grandeur, in our domestic security. They visit and touch us like the light from every point of the atmosphere. The influence of that single, manly, and magnanimous decision has transfused itself from the central point of radiance through all the recesses and depths of the system. It is no presumptuous unravelling of Providence,