ΤΟ

WHEN I was sick, how patiently thou sat'st beside my bed; When I was faint, how lovingly thine arm upheld my head; When I was wearied out with pain, perverse in misery, How ready was thy watchful aid my wishes to supply! And thou art sick, and thou art weak, and thou art rack'd with pain,

But cheerful still, untamed of ill, does yet thy heart remain: And have I nursed and tended thee since first thy griefs

began ?

Forgive, forgive, my

the selfishness of man!

BOW-MEETING SONG.

MERRY archers, come with me!
Come with me, come with me;
Merry archers, come with me,

To our tent beside the holly!
Summer gilds the smiling day,
Summer clothes the tufted spray,
Earth is green and Heaven is gay,
Wherefore should we not be jolly!
Merry archers, come, &c.

Here is friendship, mirth is here,
Woodland music, woodland cheer,
And, with hope and blended fear,
Here is love's delightful folly.
Our life, alas! is fraught with care,
And mortals all must have their share,
But yet to-day we well may spare
From our load of melancholy.

Merry archers, come with me!
Come with me, come with me;
Merry archers, come with me,

To our tents beside the holly!

FAREWELL.

WHEN eyes are beaming

What never tongue might tell;

When tears are streaming

From their crystal cell,

When hands are linked that dread to part, And heart is met by throbbing heart,

Oh bitter, bitter is the smart

Of them that bid farewell!

When hope is chidden

That fain of bliss would tell, And love forbidden

In the breast to dwell,

When, fetter'd by a viewless chain,
We turn and gaze and turn again,
Oh death were mercy to the pain
Of those that bid farewell!

PARODY OF LISTON'S "BEAUTIFUL MAID."

My fishmonger told me that soles were most dear :
I trembled to hear what he said,

For salmon and shrimps 'twas the wrong time of year,
So I pitch'd on a Beautiful Maid.

I brought home my beautiful maid,

Here, cook, dress this beautiful maid!

Come boil it, don't spoil it, but see it well done,
And I'll dine on my beautiful maid ! ”

But an ugly black cat-I speak it with grief,

My delicate tit-bit waylaid,

The cook turn'd her back, and the long-whisker'd thief

Ran away with my beautiful maid!

She claw'd up my beautiful maid!

She eloped with my beautiful maid !

Oh pussy-you hussy, oh what have you done,

You 've eat up my beautiful maid!

TRANSLATION

OF

AN INSCRIPTION RECENTLY DISCOVERED IN SAMOS.

(CLARKE'S TRAVELS.)

TURINNA, famed for every grace

Of learning and of ancient race,
Whom all the virtues did consent
With all their gifts to ornament,
When thrice nine little years are flown
Hath left her parents to bemoan,
With bitter tears, the early dead
By whom their house is widowed.
For nought remains, now she is gone,
That love or hope may rest upon.
And she hath left her palace home
To sleep within the narrow tomb.
Yet may her race, or good men feign,
Revive from such distress again.

THE OUTWARD-BOUND SHIP.

As borne along with favouring gale
And streamers waving bright,
How gladly sweeps the glancing sail
O'er yonder sea of light!

With painted sides the vessel glides,
In seeming revelry ;

And still we hear the sailor's cheer

Around the capstan tree.

Is sorrow there where all is fair,
Where all is outward glee?
Go, fool, to yonder mariner,
And he shall lesson thee!

Upon that deck walks tyrant sway
Wild as his conquer'd wave,
And murmuring hate that must obey;
The captain and his slave.

And pinching care is lurking there,
And dark ambition's swell,

And some that part with bursting heart
From objects loved too well;

And many a grief with gazing fed

On yonder distant shore,

And many a tear in secret shed

For friends beheld no more;

Yet sails the ship with streamers drest And shouts of seeming glee:

Oh God! how loves the mortal breast To hide its misery!