A man severe he was, and stern to view; Near yonder thorn that lifts its head on high, The parlour splendours of that festive place; But the long pomp, the midnight masquerade, In these, ere triflers half their wish obtain, 12.-THE CALENDAR OF FLORA. CHARLOTTE SMITH. [Charlotte Smith, whose maiden name was Turner, was born in Sussex, 1749. At the age of sixteen she married a West India merchant, who was subsequently ruined. Mrs. Smith, who had hitherto written for amusement, now plied a ready pen for the support of her family, and published "The Romance of Real Life,' "Emmeline, ""Marchmont," and a long series of novels. She also produced "Elegiac Sonnets and other Essays," besides several poems and tales for youth. She died in 1806.] FAIR rising from her icy couch, The snow-drop marks the Spring's approach, Or peers the arum from its spotted veil, Or odorous violets scent the cold capricious gale. Then thickly strewn in woodland bowers, There spring the sorrel's veined flowers, From calyx pale the freckled cowslips born, Receive in jasper cups the fragrant dews of morn. Lo! the green thorn her silver buds Expands to May's enlivening beam: And, where the slowly-trickling stream In the lone copse, or shadowy dale, Wild clustered knots of harebells grow, And droops the lily of the vale O'er vinca's matted leaves below. The orchis race with varied beauty charm, Wound o'er the hedge-row's oaken boughs, And, blushing, the uncultured rose Hangs high her beauteous blossoms there; And pale brionia winds her broad and scalloped leaves. To later summer's fragrant breath, While the tall mullein's yellow lance,- Sheltering the coot's or wild-duck's nest, And where the timid halcyon hides, And there the bright nymphæa loves to lave, And thou, by pain and sorrow blest Papaver! that an opiate dew, Contrasting with the corn flower blue, Bend in the rustling gale amid the tawny sheaves. From the first bud, whose venturous head AL are for health, for use, for pleasure given, And speak, in various ways, the bounteous hand of Heaven. 13. THE RECONCILIATION.* JOHN BANIM. [John Banim's name stands high in the records of Irish literature. His story of "The Ghost Hunter" is a work of great power, and his tragedy "Damon and Pythias" has high merit. He was born 1789, and died 1842.] THE old man he knelt at the altar, And at first his weak voice did falter, For his only brave boy, his glory, Had been stretched at the old man's feet, A corpse, all so haggard and gory, By the hand which he now must greet. And soon the old man stopt speaking, *The facts occurred in a little mountain-chapel, in the County of Clare, at the time efforts were made to put an end to faction-fighting among the peasantry. And now his limbs were not shaking, But the old man he looked around him, For the sake of our bleeding land!" 14.-ZARA'S EAR-RINGS. J. G. LOCKHART. [John Gibson Lockhart was editor of the " Quarterly Review," and son-inlaw of Sir Walter Scott. Enough this to link his name with the literary history of his own time, had it not been associated with his romances, " Valerius,' "Adam Blair," "Reginald Dalton," and "Matthew Wald;" with his biographies of Burns and Napoleon, his "Peter's Letters to his Kinsfolk," and his splendid rendering of the "Spanish Ballads." In 1843 his politics procured for him a sinecure of 4001. a year, which he enjoyed till his death in 1854. He was born in 1793, his father being the Rev. Dr. John Lockhart, minister of the College Church, Glasgow. Mr. Lockhart distinguished himself both at the Glasgow University and at Balliol College, Oxford.] 66 My ear-rings! my ear-rings! they've dropt into the well, And what to say to Muca I cannot, cannot tell." 'Twas thus, Granada's fountain by, spoke Albuharez' daughter,“The well is deep, far down they lie, beneath the cold blue water. To me did Muca give them, when he spake his sad farewell, And what to say when he comes back, alas! I cannot tell. 66 My ear-rings! my ear-rings! they were pearls in silver set, That when my Moor was far away, I ne'er should him forget, That I ne'er to other tongue should list, nor smile on other's tale, But remember he my lips had kissed, pure as those ear-rings pale. When he comes back, and hears that I have dropped them in the well, Oh! what will Muca think of me, I cannot, cannot tell. "My ear-rings! my ear-rings! he'll say they should have been, He'll think some other lover's hand among my tresses noosed, From the ears where he had placed them, my rings of pearl unloosed; He'll think when I was sporting so beside this marble well, My pearls fell in-and what to say, alas! I cannot tell. "He'll say I am a woman, and we are all the same; 66 'I'll tell the truth to Muca, and I hope he will believe That I have thought of him at morning, and thought of him at eve; That musing on my lover, when down the sun was gone, His ear-rings in my hand I held, by the fountain all alone; And that my mind was o'er the sea, when from my hand they fell, And that deep his love lies in my heart, as they lie in the well." 15.-TO A SEA-GULL. GERALD GRIFFIN. [Gerald Griffin was born at Limerick, Dec. 12, 1803. Before he was one and-twenty he came to London and obtained employment in reporting for the daily papers and contributing to the magazines. The "Munster Festivals," "Suil Dhuv, the Coiner," "The Collegians," &c. &c., made him a reputation which was still increasing when, it is said, in consequence of one of his sisters taking the veil, his devotional feelings were awakened, and he retreated from the world to join the Society of Christian Brothers, devoting himself to works of morality and education. He died of a fever in 1840.7 WHITE bird of the tempest! O beautiful thing, |