FOR him the Spring

Distils her dew, and from the silken gem
Its lucid leaves unfolds; for him the hand
Of Autumn tinges every fertile branch

With blooming gold, and blushes like the morn.
Each passing hour sheds tribute from her wing;
And still new beauties meet his lonely walk,
And loves unfelt attract him. Not a breeze
Flies o'er the meadow, not a cloud imbibes
The setting sun's effulgence, not a strain
From all the tenants of the warbling shade
Ascends, but whence his bosom can partake
Fresh pleasure unreproved.

AKENSIDE.

CUSHLO-MO-CHREE.*

By the green banks of Shannon, I wooed thee, dear Mary,
When the sweet birds were singing in summer's gay pride;
From those green banks I turn now, heart-broken and dreary,
As the sun sets, to weep o'er the grave of my bride.
While the sweet birds around me are singing,

Summer like winter is cheerless to me;

I heed not if snow falls, or flow'rets are springing,

For my heart's light is darkened-my Cushlo-mo-chree!

Oh! bright shone the morning when first as my bride, love,
Thy foot like a sunbeam my threshold cross'd o'er;
And blest on our hearth fell that soft eventide, love,
When first on my bosom thy heart lay, Asthore!

Restlessly now, on my lone pillow turning,

Wear the night-watches, still thinking on thee,

And darker than night breaks the light of the morning,
For my aching eyes find thee not, Cushlo-mo-chree!

Oh, my loved one! my lost one! say, why didst thou leave me

To linger on earth with my heart in the grave?

Oh, would thy cold arms, love, might ope to receive me

To my rest 'neath the dark boughs that over thee wave! Still from our once happy dwelling I roam, love,

Evermore seeking, my own bride, for thee;

Oh, Mary wherever thou art is my home, love,

And I'll soon lie beside thee, my Cushlo-mo-chree!

JOHN FRANCIS WALLER, LL.D.

典 "Cushlo-mo-chree"-Pulse of my heart.

UPON the forest-side in Grasmere Vale
There dwelt a Shepherd, Michael was his name;
An old man, stout of heart, and strong of limb.
His bodily frame had been, from youth to age,
Of an unusual strength; his mind was keen,
Intense, and frugal, apt for all affairs,
And in his shepherd's calling he was prompt
And watchful more than ordinary men.
So lived he till his eightieth year was past.
His days had not been past in singleness: