CONTENTS.

The Child and Flowers. By Mrs. Hemans

Ballad from the Norman French. By J. G. Lockhart, Esq.

Sonnets. By Sir Egerton Brydges, Bart.

The City of the Dead. By L. E. L.

Night and Death. By the Rev. Joseph Blanco White

The Wanderings of Cain. By S. T. Coleridge, Esq.

Verses for an Album. By Charles Lamb, Esq.

Lines written in the Vale of Zoar

An aged Widow's own Words. By James Hogg, the

Ettrick Shepherd

PAGE

1

4

11

13

16

17

24

25

26

27

Work without Hope. By S. T. Coleridge, Esq.

The Rose. By Sir Thomas E. Croft, Bart.

Letter from Sir Walter Scott, Bart.

The Night before the Battle of Montiel. From the

Spanish of Don Juan Algalaba

Jessy of Kibe's Farm. By Miss M. R. Mitford

Song. By T. K. Hervey, Esq.

Sans Souci. By. L. E. L.

A Lament for the Decline of Chivalry. By T. Hood,

Esq. Author of " Whims and Oddities"

39

65

76

77

75

The Purple Evening. By the author of 'Stray Leaves'

Scotland. By Robert Southey, Esq. Poet Laureat

To a Friend. By Lady Caroline Lambe

.80

81

89

On his Majesty's Return to Windsor Castle. By the

Rev. W. Lisle Bowles

The Hellweathers. By N. T. Carrington, Esq. Author

of "Dartmoor"

Imitation from the Persian. By Dr. Southey

The Suitors Rejected. By Miss Emma Roberts, Author

of " Memoirs of the Houses of York and Lancaster." 99

Ane Waefu' Scots Pastoral. By James Hogg, the

Anacreontic. By T. K. Hervey, Esq.

The Ritter Von Reichenstein

A familiar Epistle to Sir Thomas Lawrence. By Barry

PAGE

112

114

139

144

146

148

Marie's Grave. By the Author of "The Subaltern"

The National Norwegian Song. By W. H. Leeds, Esq. 173

An Address to the Lost Wig of John Bell, Esq. By a

Tyro

176

A Simile, on a Lady's Portrait. By James Montgo-

mery, Esq.

181

The Epistle of Servius Sulpicius to Marcus Tullius

Cicero. Translated by his Majesty

183

The Epistle of Marcus Tullius Cicero to Servius Sul-

picius. Translated by his late Royal Highness

the Duke of York

188

The Lover's Invocation. By Miss Mitford

191

Inscription for a Grotto. By Horace Smith, Esq.

The Two Founts. By S. T. Coleridge, Esq.

202

Halloran the Pedlar. By the writer of the " Diary

of an Ennuyée"

205

Morning. By D. L. Richardson, Esq.

240

The Oriental Love-Letter. By Mrs. Pickersgill, Author

Essex and the Maid of Honour. By Horace Smith, Esq. 286

Humble Love. By William Fraser

312

Haddon Hall. By H. B.

315

My Native Land. By Delta, of Blackwood's Magazine

319

THE CHILD AND FLOWERS.

By Mrs, Hemans.

All good and guiltless as thou art.
Some transient griefs will touch thy heart,
Griefs that along thy altered face

Will breathe a more subduing grace,

Than even those looks of joy that lie
On the soft cheek of infancy.

WILSON.

HAST thou been in the woods with the honey-bee? Hast thou been with the lamb in the pastures free? With the hare through the copses and dingles wild ? With the butterfly over the heath, fair child?

Yes the light fall of thy bounding feet

:

Hath not startled the wren from her mossy seat;
Yet hast thou ranged the green forest-dells,
And brought back a treasure of buds and bells.

Thou know'st not the sweetness, by antique song
Breathed o'er the names of that flowery throng;
The woodbine, the primrose, the violet dim,
The lily that gleams by the fountain's brim :

B

These are old words, that have made each grove

A dreary haunt for romance and love;

Each sunny bank, where faint odours lie

A place for the gushings of Poesy.

Thou know'st not the light wherewith fairy lore
Sprinkles the turf and the daisies o'er ;
Enough for thee are the dews that sleep.
Like hidden gems in the flower-urns deep;
Enough the rich crimson spots that dwell
Midst the gold of the cowslip's perfumed cell;

And the scent by the blossoming sweet-briars shed,
And the beauty that bows the wood-hyacinth's head.

Oh! happy child in thy fawn-like glee!

What is remembrance or thought to thee?
Fill thy bright locks with those gifts of spring,

O'er thy green pathway their colours fling;
Bind them in chaplet and wild festoon-
What if to droop and to perish soon?

Nature hath mines of such wealth-and thou
Never wilt prize its delights as now!

For a day is coming to quell the tone

That rings in thy laughter, thou joyous one!
And to dim thy brow with a touch of care,
Underthe gloss of its clustering hair;

And to tame the flash of thy cloudless eyes

Into the stillness of autumn skies;

And to teach thee that grief hath her needful part, Midst the hidden things of each human heart!

Yet shall we mourn, gentle child! for this?
Life hath enough of yet holier bliss!

Such be thy portion !-the bliss to look

With a reverent spirit, through Nature's book;
By fount, by forest, by river's line,

To track the paths of a love divine;

To read its deep meanings-to see and hear

God in earth's garden-and not to fear!