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His plume, his note, his form, could Burns
For whim or pleasure change; He was not one, but all by turns,
With transmigration strange.
The Blackbird, oracle of spring,
When flowed his moral lay;
Capriciously at play:
The Humming bird, from bloom to bloom
Inhaling heavenly balım;
The Halcyon in the calm:
In “auld Kirk Alloway,” the Owl,
At witching time of night;
That carolled to the light.
He was the Wren amidst the grove,
When in his homely vein;
With thunder in his train:
The Wood-lark in his mournful hours;
The Goldfinch in his mirth; The Thrush, a spendthrift of his powers,
Enrapturing heaven and earth:
The Swan, in majesty and grace,
Contemplative and still ;
Could like his satire kill.
The Linnet in simplicity,
In tenderness the Dove;
The Nightingale in love.
Oh! had he never stooped to shame,
Nor lent a charm to vice,
Peace to the dead !-In Scotia's choir
Of Minstrels great and small,
The Phønix of them all,
AN EVERY-DAY TALE.
WRITTEN IN BEHALF OF A SOCIETY FOR RELIEVING DIS
TRESSED FEMALES IN THE FIRST MONTH OF THEIR
“The short and simple annals of the poor."-Gray.
Mine is a tale of every day,
At Mary's birth her mother smiled
Her partner stood, like one berest
All woman's waking, sleeping care,
Mary from childhood rose to youth,
Meekness, simplicity, and grace,
Love found that maiden: Love will find Way to the coyest maiden's mind; Love found and tried her, year by year, With hope deferred and boding fear : To the world's end her hero strayed ; Tempests and calms his bark delayed : What then could her heart-sickness soothe? “ The course of true love ne'er ran smooth !" Her bosom ached with drear suspense, Till sharper trouble drove it thence: Affliction smote her father's brain, And he became a child again ; Ah! then the prayers, the pangs, the tears, He breathed, felt, shed, o'er her young years, That duteous daughter well repaid, Till in the grave she saw him laid Beneath her mother's churchyard stone: There first she felt herself alone; But while she gazed on that cold heap, Her parents' bed, and could not weep, A still, small whisper seemed to say,
Strength shall be given thee as thy day.” Then rushed the tcars to her relief, A bow was in the cloud of grief,
Her wanderer now, from clime to clime, Returned, unchanged by tide or time, True as the morning to the sun : Mary and William soon were one; And never rang the village bells With sweeter falls or merrier swells Than when the neighbours, young and old, Stood at their thresholds to behold And bless them, till they reached the spot, Where woodbines girdled Mary's cot; And there, no longer forced to roam, William found all the world at home; Yea, more than all the world beside, A warm, kind heart to his allied.
Twelve years of humble life they spent, With food and raiment well content: In flower of youth and flush of health, They envied not voluptuous wealth ; The wealth of poverty was theirs, Those riches, without wings or snares, Which honest hands, by daily toil, May dig from every generous soil. A little farm while William tilled, Mary her household cares fulfilled ; And love, joy, peace, with guileless mirth, Sate round their table, warmed their hearth; Whence rose, like incense to the skies, Morning and evening sacrifice, And contrite spirits found in prayer That home was heaven, for GOD was there.
Meanwhile, the May-flowers on their lands Were yearly plucked by younger hands; New-comers watched the swallows float, And mocked the cuckoo's double note; Till head o'er head, a slanting line, They stood-a family of nine, That might be ten; but ere that day The father's life was snatched away; Faint from the field one night he came; Fever had seized his sinewy frame, And left the strong man, when it passed, Frail as the sere leaf in the blast; A long, long winter's illness bowed His head; spring daisies decked his shroud.
Scarce was he buried out of sight,
Came such a friend ?--I must not say;
SONNET TO A BRIDE.
(Imitated from the Italian of P. Salandri.) The more divinely beautiful thou art, Lady! of love's inconstancy beware; Watch o'er thy charms, and with an angel's care, Oh, guard thy maiden purity of heart;