Brown woollen net-work; yet it seeks
Accordance with thy lovely cheeks,
And more becomes thy beauty's bloom
Than any shawl from Cashmere's loom.

Thou hast not, to adorn thee, girl,
Flower, link of gold, or gem or pearl—
I would not let a ruby speck

The peeping whiteness of thy neck
Thou need'st no casket, witching elf,
No gawd-thy toilet is thyself;
Not ev'n a rose-bud from the bower,
Thyself a magnet-gem and flower.

My arch and playful little creature,
Thou hast a mind in every feature;
Thy brow, with its disparted locks,
Speaks language that translation mocks ;
Thy lucid eyes so beam with soul,
They on the canvass seem to roll-
Instructing both my head and heart
To idolize the painter's art.

He marshals minds to Beauty's feast-
He is IIumanity's high priest

Who proves, by heavenly forms on earth,

How much this world of ours is worth.
Inspire me, child, with visions fair!
Fo children, in Creation, are

The only things that could be given

Back, and alive-unchanged-to Heaven.

SONG OF THE COLONISTS DEPARTING

FOR NEW ZEALAND

STEER, helmsman, till you steer our way,

By stars beyond the line;

We go to found a realm, one day,

Like England's self to shine.

CHORUS.

Cheer up-cheer up-our course we'll keep,
With dauntless heart and hand;

And when we've plough'd the stormy deep,
We'll plough a smiling land :—

A land, where beauties importune
The Briton to its bowers,

To sow but plenteous seeds, and prune
Luxuriant fruits and flowers.

Chorus.-Cheer up-cheer up, &c

There, tracts uncheer'd by human words,

Seclusion's wildest holds,

Shall hear the lowing of our herds,

And tinkling of our folds.

Chorus.-Cheer up-cheer up, &c.

Like rubies set in gold, shall blush
Our vineyards girt with corn;
And wine, and oil, and gladness gush
Trom Amalthea's horn.

Chorus.-Cheer up-cheer up, &c.

Britannia's pride is in our hearts,
Her blood is in our veins-

We'll girdle earth with British arts,
Like Ariel's magic chains.

CHORUS.

Cheer up-cheer up-our course we'll keep, With dauntless heart and hand;

And when we've piough'd the stormy deep,

We'll plough a smiling land.

THE kiss that would make a maid's cheek flush

*Wroth, as if kissing were a sin Amidst the Argus eyes and din And tell-tale glare of noon, Brings but a murmur and a blush, Beneath the modest moon.

Ye days, gone-never to come back,
When love return'd entranced me so,
That still its pictures move and glow
In the dark chamber of my heart;
Leave not my memory's future track-
I will not let you part.

"Twas moonlight, when my earliest love First on my bosom dropp'd her head; A moment then concentrated

The bliss of years, as if the spheres

Their course had faster driven, And carried Enoch-like above,

A living man to Heaven.

"Tis by the rolling moon we measure,
The date between our nuptial night
And that blest hour which brings to light
The fruit of bliss-the pledge of faith;
When we impress upon the treasure
A father's earliest kiss.

The Moon's the Earth's enamor❜d bride ;
True to him in her very changes,

To other stars she never ranges:

Though, cross'd by him, sometimes she dips

Her light, in short offended pride,

And faints to an eclipse.

The fairies revel by her sheen ;
"Tis only when the Moon's above
The fire-fly kindles into love,
And flashes light to show it :

The nightingale salutes her Queen
Of Heaven, her heav'nly poet.

Then ye that love-by moonlight gloom
Meet at my grave, and plight regard.
Oh! could I be the Orphéan bard
Of whom it is reported,

That nightingales sung o'er his tomb,
Whilst lovers came and courted.

CORA LINN, OR THE FALLS OF THE CLYDE

WRITTEN ON REVISITING IT IN 1837.

THE time I saw thee, Cora, last,
'Twas with congenial friends;
And calmer hours of pleasure past-
My memory seldom sends.

It was as sweet an Autumn day
As ever shone on Clyde,

And Lanark's orchards all the way,
Put forth their golden pride;

Ev'n hedges, busk'd in bravery,
Look'd rich that sunny morn;
The scarlet hip and blackberry
So prank'd September's thorn.

In Cora's glen the calm how deep!

The trees on loftiest hill

Like statues stood, or things asleep,

All motionless and still.

The torrent spoke, as if his noise

Bade earth be quiet round,

And give his loud and lonely voice

A more commanding sound.