HAIL, lady, hail! we've sought for thee
The treasures of each distant sea.
Here's coral, black, and red, and white,
With amber, clear as moon-beam bright;
Here shells of ev'ry varied hue,
Pearls pure as morning's earliest dew:
Say, lady, if aught else there be
Thou lov'st beneath the restless sea?
The finest sea-weed we have sought,
And acorns from the ilex brought;
Its glossy leaves we've twin'd for thee,
With pink-buds from the tam'risk tree;
The holly's leaf and berries red
We've brought to wreathe around thy head.
Say, lady, if aught else there be
Thou lov'st that grows beside the sea?
THE FAIRIES' ADDRESS TO THE QUEEN OF MAY.
FAIR lady, hail! To thee we bring
The sweetest flow'rets of the spring;
For thee we've sought the mossy dell,
To cull the hyacinth's purple bell.
The earliest rose we've taught to twine
Its sweets with luscious eglantine;
The snowy hawthorn, gemm'd with dew,
We've wreath'd with that of roseate hue.
From yonder bank, so steep and green,
Where mortal tread hath never been,
We bring thee violets white and blue
To deck thy locks of golden hue.
One flow'r we lack'd to crown our store,
And field and grove we've flutter'd o'er;
We sought it far, we sought it near-
Pale snow-drop, first-born of the year.
See, Cobweb bears on wearied wing
One flower to crown thee, Queen of Spring-
Peas-blossom, Mustard-seed, attend-
Good Robin, thou must lowly bend.
Fair lady, we have hover'd o'er
This isle from north to southern shore;
No more our wings shall fan the air,
In search of maiden good as fair.
Our varied garlands we display,
And hail thee, lovely Queen of May.
THE DELUSIONS OF HOPE AND ITS CONTINUED ATTRACTIONS,
Oft in my infancy, when joys were young,
And, Hope! thy siren voice most sweetly sung,
O'er the green meadow and the April plain
I've chased the varied bow of heaven in vain—
Follow'd its hues, transparent as they shone,
And woo'd its fleeting splendor for mine own.
In after-years, when beauty's fairer beam
Rose to my eyes in loveliness supreme,
Beauty I follow'd, and as fondly too
As e'er I chased yon arch of painted dew.
Next came the love of glory, and the dream
Of winning fame; I felt my bosom teem
With thoughts and feelings deep, and such as lead,
When rightly taught, to honor's shining meed ;-
No matter now what might such dream destroy,
Hope! 'twas, like all thy gifts, a gilded toy:
Each splendid trifle that thou hang'st in air
Is to man's fancy but a glitt'ring snare:
Thyself the Iris of life's changeful skies;
And still man follows where the rainbow flies.
But shall he yet, when often thy deceit
Has taught astray to roam his weary feet,
Believe the lying vision he has proved,
And fix his eyes on things in vain beloved?
Yes, even so! To life's remotest gleam,
The truant still shall chase thy flying beam,
Till through the vale of death, in glory bright,
The star of hope be fix'd before his sight;
No transient beam, no evanescent ray,
But the full brilliance of eternal day.
THE LOVER'S WISHES,
by the Authoress of the Sorrows of Rosalie.
I WOULD I were the slight fern growing
Beneath my Highland Mary's tread!
I would I were the green tree throwing
Its shadow o'er her gentle head!
I would I were a wild flower springing
Where my sweet Mary loves to rest,
That she might pluck me while she's singing,
And place me on her snowy breast!
I would I were in yonder heaven
A silver star, whose soft dim light
Would rise to bless each summer even,
And watch my Mary all the night!
I would, beneath those small white fingers,
I were the lute her breath has fann'd-
The gentle lute, whose soft note lingers,
As loth to leave her fairy hand!
Ah, happy things! ye may not wander
From Scotland to some darker sky,
But ever live unchanging yonder,
To happiness and Mary nigh!
While I at midnight, sadly weeping
Upon its deep transparent blue,
Can only gaze while all are sleeping,
And dream my Mary watches too!
ANXIOUS DOUBTS OF A YOUNG LADY.
WHEN the sun is shining brightly on a blithesome summer's day,
While others dance and sing, I think of him who's far away;
Amid the gay I wander on, as sad as sad can be-
Oh! while I think of you, love, do you think of me?
When the evening shadows fall, love, and silence reigns around,
And the weeping flowers shake the sparkling dew-drops on the ground;
When the pale moon shines so mournfully upon the land and lea—
Oh! while I think of you, love, do you think of me?
And when the night is come, love, and the weary sun is set,
While others sleep, my constant eyes with tears the pillow wet;
I rest in vain my aching head, where none my grief may see-
Oh! while I think of you, love, do you think of me?
And when other suitors come, love, to tempt with smiles and gold, And tell me that thy heart for me is passionless and cold,
I turn in scorn and grief away, and say it cannot be→→
When I always think of you, love, sure you sometimes think of me.
a Sketch, by Mrs. C. G. Godwin.
HE swept the golden chords of his lov'd harp,
Whose faithful tones gave out melodiously
An echo of his soul. High heav'd his heart;
The life-blood quicken'd, and the pale brow flung
Its elf-locks back to revel with the wind.
The spirit of sweet sounds, a spell as strong
As ever wrung the voice of prophecy
From Eastern sage, or wizard of the North,
Was on him then. He rais'd his sightless orbs
To that fair heav'n, whose luxury of light
They ne'er had known, and as the rich full tide
Of music roll'd from the rebounding strings,
A ray of mind, a bright intelligence,
Though the eye flash'd not its live light'nings there,
Play'd o'er his features, telling of deep joy
Radiant within his breast. Oh! pow'r divine
Of harmony, that maketh light break forth
E'en amidst darkness! light that owneth not
Control of time or season, unobscur'd
In dungeon glooms, or 'midst the silent hours
Of night's dull noon. Music to him was life,
And he was blest-that old blind wand'ring bard,
Bearing his world of light and loveliness
In that companion harp, whose lays replied
Congenial to each mood, or sad or gay,
Thro' the earth's desert-yea, this flow'ry earth,
With all its rainbow hues, and glorious shapes,
To him was desert! Heav'n's rich panoply
Of crimson sunset, and the moon's clear lamp
Of crystal, shining out o'er flood and fell;
The golden autumn, and the first faint blush
Of the young bud kiss'd by the virgin spring;
The calm lake imaging the woods and skies;
The deep-drawn vale, the mountain's azure crest;
These were to him a chaos of dark things,
Of whose mysterious being even his dreams
Gave not the semblance. Nor might Mem'ry's dim
Phantasmagoria raise her spectral host,
Nor restless Fancy, ever prone to garb
Objects unknown in some familiar guise,
Lend her illusions. Mem'ry stor❜d for him
No look of Nature's silent majesty-
No haunting gleam of her enchanting forms,
Ador'd in youth. A sweet voice, that had sung
To him in silv'ry accents, or the notes
Of nightingales, or cadence of some tones,
Borne fitfully upon the floating breeze
Like angel hymns; the thunder, pealing loud
Heaven's organ strains-the cataract's ceaseless roar,
Whose awful aspect, as the sea's wild course,
To him was unimaginable;-these,
These, shrin'd within the sanctuary of his heart,
These were his memories.
HIGHLAND MAGNANIMITY,
by the late Mr. Stoe Van-Dyk.
YOUNG Lamond, the pride of Argyleshire,
Was hunting the fleet red deer,
And he saw a hart in his own Glenfine,
And pierc'd him with his spear.
The hart flew on with the light'ning's speed,
Though the shaft was in his side,
Till he came to a river's sloping bank,
And plunged in the restless tide.
The hunter follow'd, with might and main,
To the midst of the wild Glenstrae,
Where the young Macgregor had thrown a lance,
And wounded a hart that day.
The deer o'er each other's path had cross'd,
As they kept on their blood-track'd flight,
Until one sank down on the heather bed,
And died in the hunter's sight. -
They met in a proud and angry mood,
Who had never met before;
And a strife arose o'er the fallen prey,
And each drew his broad claymore.
In vain, in vain, did the Gregor's son
On his rival hunter dart,
For Lamond his shining weapon raised,
And buried it in his heart.
He fled, pursued by his foeman's clan,
But he soon outstripp'd them all;
And, when he had wander'd long and far,
He came to an ancient hall;
And he look'd on the face of an aged man,
And he told him of the fray;
And the old man shelter'd and fed the youth
Till the close of that fatal day.
But soon he heard from a hundred lips
That his only child was slain,
That the last, last hope of a mighty clan
Would never breathe again.
He had foes around him; his strength was gone,
And his race was nearly run;
And he wept with a lone and desolate heart
O'er the fate of his noble son.
But his word was pass'd to the stranger youth,
And he led him forth at night,
While the clan of Macgregor dream'd revenge,
And grasp'd their weapons bright.
He led him forth to the broad Lochfine,
Where a bark was seen to ride,
And he soon was borne o'er the darkling waves,
Once more to his own burn-side.
"Henceforth," at parting, Macgregor said,
"Thou must know me for thy foe:
Oh! he well may fear a sire's revenge,
Who has laid his hopes so low."
The bark shot off, and the old man turn'd,
With a feeble step, to roam,
Through the lonely glens and the misty braes,
To his sad and childless home.
But evil days o'er the old laird came,
And he lost that home for aye:
And he left-and he left with a broken heart
The scenes of his loved Glenstrae.
Young Lamond then sought the wand'ring man,
And open'd his hall-door wide,
And he tended his wants with filial care
Till the aged chieftain died.
A MEMOIR OF THE LATE POPE.
THE papal power has been so much curtailed even by catholic princes, that the bishop of Rome, although he claims the most exalted authority, can only exercise it with effect in the Roman territory. His bulls are no longer implicitly obeyed in other countries, and his remon
strances and menaces are generally treated with contempt. Yet, being still the principal catholic prelate as well as a temporal prince, he is necessarily a distinguished personage, and the death of one who held that dignity calls at least for some notice of his life, government, and character.
Annibale della Genga, the pontiff
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