Will then come down with roaring din, In drumly torrents rowing.

"But I can meet cauld winter's sna',

And still my heart be cheerie; Though howling tempests round me blaw, They canna mak' me eerie ; For faithful love has constant charms, That never tyne their blossom; He'll fondly fold me in his arms, And hide me in his bosom !"

She ceas'd her song; but on her ear
The simple air resounded near;
The mellow tone so softly fell,
The maiden knew the Minstrel well;
And such the magic of the strain,
It tingled in her every vein;
Glad Echo caught the melting sound,
And ere it ceas'd to float around,
The Minstrel's form before the fair
Was humbly, fondly, kneeling there;
And soon, to soothe the maid's alarms,
She's kindly clasp'd in Beaton's arms!
She felt her song had now reveal'd
Her love, before but ill conceal'd;
The crimson-colour'd twilight sky

Was pale before the rich suffusion
On Martha's cheek, although her eye
Flash'd no reproach for this intrusion.
Around, magnificently rude,
Was rich, romantic solitude;
Nature, with softest influence,
Assail'd the maiden's every sense-
Before her sight plac'd many a bloom,
Bore on the breeze a rich perfume;
The blackbird blithe, the cooing dove,
All, all conspir'd to whisper love;
More powerful still the manly charms
Of him who clasp'd her in his arms;
A potent master in the art

That soonest wins the guileless heart.
He saw her glistening, melting eye--
He felt her fond heart softly sigh-
He mark'd the deep blush burning glow

Her breast, yet pure as mountain snow,
More softly heaving as he press'd,
Her love, her weakness, all confess'd!
The vile seducer felt his power,
The lonely scene, the silent hour,
Conspir'd to frame the wizzard bower,
Where he might stain this spotless flow'r;
His suit he still more fondly press'd,
And strain'd the maiden to his breast;
Insidious Love was smiling by,

His wanton wings resplendent shone; Deceiver, stop!-nor dare untie

The maiden's mystic, virgin zone! Must Martha shed the bootless tear,

And mourn o'er Innocence betray'd? Her guardian angel hovers near,

And sure he'll save the hapless maid! Yes;-he dissolves the magic spellDestroys the net around her spun,

Unveils to view the child of hell,

Before the guilty triumph's won. Now starts the trembling, frighted fair, To see a hideous monster glare,

With baleful poison in his eyes; Her cheek grows pale-her blood runs cold,

Within the tortuous serpent's foldShe starts springs up, and frighted flies:

Mimosa shrinks not, more afraid,
Than shudder'd, shrunk, the trembling
maid;

Not swifter flies the trembling fawn,
Before the hunter, o'er the lawn;
Not wilder throbs the sky-lark's breast,
When close by murdering falcon press'd;
Not Myreton's hall can soothe her sad
alarms,

She weeps, she sobs, and faints within her mother's arms.

Ah! why should suffering Virtue wail,
Or Innocence e'er droop forlorn?
Now Martha's cheek is blanch'd and pale,
Once lovelier than the orient morn.
Listless and dim her downcast eye,
Wasted and wan her slender form :
Long, deep, and sad her rending sigh,

She's sinking in the mental storm!
The deadly fiend has left his den,
And come to Myreton's hall again,
With speeches bland, and pious look ;
But Martha's soul with horror shook;
The demon stood expos'd to view,
And sadly shuddering, she withdrew.
Her parents saw, with much surprise,
Keen indignation in her eyes;
They sought the cause she could not

66

speak;

But blushes deep suffus'd her cheek;
While outrag'd Virtue in her eye
Flash'd like the lightning in the sky;
At last, with faltering tongue, she said,
My joy on earth is ever fled;
For he I deem'd of seraph race,
Has shown a soul polluted-base !"
High swell'd the wrathful father's ire;
To Beaton death, and vengeance dire,
Was now denounced against the band,
Vile spawn, who thus disgraced the land.
"Ah! say not thus !" the maiden cries,
The big tears streaming from her eyes;
"My heart rebels against my will,
And, to my shame-I love him still;
But while my heart bleeds at its inmost
core,

I've sworn before the rood I ne'er will meet him more."

As droops the lily's spotless form,
When blighting frosts molest ;

Or some insidious secret worm
Is lurking in its breast;

So sunk the beauteous Martha's head,
The blush, the sinile, the glance were fled,

We have preaching politicians,
Tools of power and earthly thrones;
Pert, pedantic rhetoricians;

Dozing, dull, and vulgar drones.

Some, like Boanerges bawling,

Shake the heart and stun the ear; Others, whining, whimpering, drawling, Wiping still the maudlin tear.

Some for Paul, and some Apollos,
Warm in sect or party's flame;
Arminus this, that Calvin follows;

Some seek nothing but a name.

Here, see meekness, love, and patience, Grace the surplice or the gown; There, that proud man's fulmination Fit him for the triple crown.

Next, the sons of Esculapius

In my lyrics claim a place;
Bearing in their hands a capias,
Daring Death with dauntless face.
Wonder not although they stumble,
Doom'd to grapple in the dark ;
Why should hapless patients grumble,
Though they sometimes miss their
mark ?

Venus, Bacchus, sauces, capers,
Calipash and calipee,
Hypochondria, spleen and vapours,
Night-mare, dreams, and dull ennui,

Mushrooms, opium, and blue-devils,

All combine to mock their skill; War with such a host of evils,

Should it fail to cure, must kill.

Tinkers, when they mend a kettle,

Close one hole and knock out two; Quacks, when men of reckless mettle, Keep this practice still in view.

I have seen soft Pity's blossom

Trembling in the doctor's eye, Bending o'er the sick man's bosom, Heard him heave the tender sigh;

Heard him talk of hope returning,

Smile, and speak of health to be;

Seen him seek the house of mourning,
And shut his hand against a fee!

Fearless he who dares to venture
In the labyrinth of Law;
Dark the gulph, and deep the centre
Of its wide insatiate maw.

In her temple, what confusion !

Motley crowds and Babel din, Demurs, debates, decreets, delusion, Counsel fat and clients thin!

Specious glossing, special pleading,
Issuing from a countless throng;
Law from equity receding,

Still confounding right and wrong. One has heard a knave's confession,

Takes his fee and pleads his cause; What can save from transportation? Quibbles, quirks, and legal flaws. Law and Justice seal'd and locked, Clients come with golden key; Poverty, with empty pocket, Ruin'd, though she gains her plea.

Next we have the Politician,

Whig or Tory all the same; Intrigue, cabal, and competition, All are struggling for the game.

Ministers may deal in fiction,

Loaves and fishes in their hand; Place and pension bring conviction

Patriots seldom can withstand.

Sycophants and courtly minions,

Cringing, play at seek-and-hide; Constant still to their opinions,

The warmest's aye the safest side.

You have heard the house-dog scratching
At the door with yelping din,
For the open wicket watching,
Seen him silent when he's in.

Councils form the leagued Alliance,
Suited to the happy few;
Standing armies bid defiance

To the grumbling, vulgar crew.

What are Soldiers? Goods and chattels; Men transform'd to mere machines; Well-dress'd puppets-baby-rattles, Shuttlecocks for kings and queens!

Guns and bayonets-blood and thunder! Lace and feathers-Folly's choice; Maiming, mangling, rape, and plunder, Cannon, drums, and deafening noise!

Chasing Fame, to live in story,

Forward rush the bold and brave; Grasping at a shadowy glory,

Sinking in a nameless grave:

At his outset, toil and sorrow,

Drilling, marching, can'd and curs'd; Drunk to-day, and flogg'd to-morrow;

Such the scenes of act the first.

Minus laurels, health, and riches,

Long campaigns and dangers past, Lam'd, and propp'd on wooden crutches, He comes home to act the last :

Hops to town, and draws his pension,

As the quarter-day comes round, Stumbles, staggers, cries" Attention !" All his cares in whisky drown'd.

See the Tar, to fear a stranger,
Light of heart as summer breeze;
Britain's stay in hour of danger,

Makes her Empress of the seas:

When the foe, for battle ready,

Strews her decks with fire and smoke, Jack, with courage cool and steady,

Points his gun, and cracks his joke:

While the awful broadside's pouring,
Nails his colours to the mast;
Thinks of Poll, while death is showering-
Hopes to live or die the last.

Landed from the stormy ocean,
See him careless, blithe, and brave;
Still for love or grog in motion,
Restless as the swelling wave.
Sailors know not melancholy;
Jack has gold-is generous, free,
Treats his friends, and busses Polly-
Time glides by in ceaseless glee.

Hoarse he murmurs, "Cease, rude Boreas!"

Bawls, "Britannia rules the waves!" Shipmates mingling loud in chorus, "Britons never shall be slaves !"

Liberal, reckless, ready-handed,
Vanish'd soon's the golden store;
Jack is on a lee-shore stranded,

Pulls to sea, and toils for more!
Painters daubers-dreamers, ravish'd
With some beau-ideal grace;
Or perhaps their colours lavish'd
On some fair, but foolish face :

Cheeks that glow in rich carnation,
Sparkling eyes and flowing hair;
Folly, pride, and affectation,

Nature's hand has imaged there:
Soften'd down each rugged feature,
Beauties touch'd with graces new ;
Such the copy sketch'd from Nature:
Are such portraits ever true?
Stop-indulge imagination,
Let the glowing thought expand;

VOL. XIV.

Paint each strong contending passion, As pourtray'd by Nature's hand: Waters, forests, frozen mountains, Nature's fairest, rudest forms, Alpine rocks, Arcadian fountains, Summer skies, and wintry storms.

See the youthful Poet soaring

Airy heights he hopes to climb; Fancy's fairy land exploringRapt in extacy sublime:

On Parnassian mountains dreaming,
Patrons fan his heavenly flame;
Golden rivers round him streaming,
Crown'd with never-dying fame!
Warm with fancied inspiration,
Pours his fond enraptured lays;
Folly gapes with admiration,
Friends and flatterers lavish praise :
Prints at critic sneers dejected,

Writhes and pines in sad distress;
Haply, worse-his work neglected,
Drops dead-born from the press.
Hitherto his lofty spirit,

Though romantic, was sincere ; All his tribute paid to Merit,

Hung no wreath on Folly's bier. Now, by cold and hunger haunted, Sadly sinks the lofty mind; Virtue's fairest flowers transplanted, Are in Flattery's garlands twined. Hark! he whines, in melting pathos, O'er some titled reptile's urn; See him now, he sinks in bathos, Scattering praise that truth would

spurn.

Now with smoky walls surrounded,
Stranger to the sun and sky;
His keen eye's bright vision bounded
To a lane where few pass by:

Here, with teeming fancy warming,
Still he paints the rural scene;
Waving woods with music charming,
Blooming bowers and meadows green.

Mark the wond'rous transformation!
Poet turn'd a Critic sour!
Censure, scorn, and condemnation,
Now 'tis his delight to pour.

When he sung the charms of Nature,
Few were found dispos'd to hear;
Now he sputters gall and satire,

Crowds are seen with list'ning ear.
He was blighted in his blossom,
Wak'ned ne'er to dream again,
Dark revenge broods in his bosom,
Deadly poison loads his pen!
00

Such the world, an air-blown bubble;
Phantoms follow'd, dreams believ'd;
Truth involv'd in toil and trouble;
Knaves deceiving-fools deceiv'd!

Now came forward a modest young man, recently from the University, and just licensed as a preacher by the Presbytery. His history, as a school-boy and student, contains nothing that claims to be recorded in your annals; and his character is only beginning to develope itself. Judging from the following specimen of his mind, he appears to be fitted for the retired shade, rather than the bustling scenes of life. He introduced his address under the quaint title of

Tears and Smiles. OUR life is like an April day,

Of sunny gleams and gloomy shade; A flow'ry field, where blossoms gay

Are daily seen to bloom and fade: We see the vernal sunbeam shine,

But oft with low'ring clouds contend; So in the human face divine

See smiles and tears alternate blend.

Man cries when ent'ring on the stage, Though stranger yet to hope or fear; Life's first is still a motley page,

Though often blotted with a tear. That infant face, behold how blest, 'Tis innocence devoid of guile ! He nestles in his mother's breast,

No future care o'erclouds his smile.

Now see him, in life's merry morn,

In flowery path, the welkin clear; He plucks the rose, although the thorn Perchance may draw a transient tear; But soon from care and sorrow free, He lightly leaps o'er hedge and stile; His little heart expands with glee,

And clothes his face with playful smile.

A truant school-boy, trudging late

To meet a pedagogue severe, He cons his task, and mourns his fate, His book besprent with many a tear : Vacation comes-he gains a prize,

And this can former griefs beguile; Pride triumphs in his sparkling eyes, And his the haughty victor's smile.

But clouds again o'ercast his sky;

He bends above a parent's bier ; With drooping head and downcast eye, We see him shed the filial tear; His grief is but a passing shower; For fate dispels the dreary gloom,

And guides his feet to Beauty's bower,

When Love's young roses richly bloom. "Tis now a bright and noontide blaze,

And he is blest a little while; On Beauty's angel-form to gaze,

And bask in Love's seraphic smile.

Alas! he has not long been bless'd

With her so fair, so fondly dear, When sad, he clasps her to his breast, While fast decends the parting tear : From her he loves now banish'd far, Between them many a weary mile,

He, drooping, blames his baleful star,

And thinks he ne'er again shall smile. While lingering thus in loneliness, Some mourning fair approaches near; Alive to Beauty in distress,

He kindly sheds soft Pity's tear :
Deceiv'd by her seducing charms,

Betray'd by many a witching wile,
He sinks within her venal arms,
The victim of a syren's smile!

It is a momentary gleam,

Remorse assails his startled ear;
He wakes from his delirious dream,
To shed the penitential tear.
Long time condemn'd by fate to roam,
Hope builds again her airy pile:
Again the wand'rer seeks his home,
And joyous meets Love's welcome
smile!

He gazes on her glist’ning eye,

And clasps the form so fondly dear; Like summer shower, in sunny sky,

She sheds the bright, enraptured tear! Their hearts are link'd in Hymen's bower,

That lies in Love's enchanted isle, And on their knees a budding flower

Calls forth the fond parental smile.

But there are other hopes and fears,

And other springs of joy and woe; And sun and shade, and smiles and tears,

To mark the motley scene below. See him who wears the deep disguise,

His heart is hollow, insincere ; With honied tongue and twinkling eyes, He sheds the vile dissembler's tear! Oh! may he shun the flatterer's art,

Who, serpent-like, lurks to beguile; Beneath a mask who hides his heart, There's murder in that villain smile" ! See him still helpless, woe-begone, Whose wounded spirit none can cheer; Who in the night-wind wanders lone, Who sighs he cannot shed a tear! His burning brain is scorch'd and dry, His eyes like baleful meteors glare; He smiles yet writhes in agonyIt is the smile of dark Despair!

Shakespeare.