THE PORTRAIT OF A FEMALE CHILD.

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 canvas seem to roll—
Instructing both my head and heart
To idolize the painter's art.

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

Who proves, by heavenly forms on earth,
How much this world of ours is worth.
Inspire me, child, with visions fair!
For children, in Creation, are

The only things that could be given

Back, and alive-unchanged-to Heaven.

363

THE PARROT.

A DOMESTIC ANECDOTE.

THE following incident, so strongly illustrating the power of memory and association in the lower animals, is not a fiction. I heard it many years ago in the Island of Mull, from the family to whom the bird belonged.

THE deep affections of the breast,
That Heaven to living things imparts,
Are not exclusively possess'd
By human hearts.

A parrot, from the Spanish Main,

Full young, and early caged, came o’er With bright wings, to the bleak domain Of Mulla's shore.

To spicy groves where he had won
His plumage of resplendent hue,
His native fruits, and skies, and sun,

He bade adieu.

For these he changed the smoke of turf,
A heathery land and misty sky,
And turn'd on rocks and raging surf

His golden eye.

But, petted, in our climate cold

He lived and chatter'd many a day: Until with age, from green and gold His wings grew gray.

At last, when blind and seeming dumb,
He scolded, laugh'd, and spoke no more,
A Spanish stranger chanced to come
To Mulla's shore;

He hail'd the bird in Spanish speech,
The bird in Spanish speech replied,
Flapp'd round his cage with joyous screech,
Dropt down, and died.

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
From 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 plough'd the stormy deep, We'll plough a smiling land.

MOONLIGHT.

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 dropt 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.