Hope "springs exulting on triumphant wing,"
That thus they all shall meet in future days:
There ever bask in uncreated rays,

No more to sigh, or shed the bitter tear,
Together hymning their Creator's praise,

In such society, yet still more dear;

While circling time moves round in an eternal sphere.

Compared with this, how poor Religion's pride,

In all the pomp of method, and of art, When men display to congregations wide, Devotion's every grace, except the heart! The power, incensed, the pageant will desert, The pompous strain, the sacerdotal stole ; But haply, in some cottage far apart,

May hear, well pleased, the language of the soul; And in his book of life the inmates poor enrol.

Then homeward all take off their several way:
The youngling cottagers retire to rest;
The parent pair their secret homage pay,

And proffer up to Heav'n the warm request-
That He, who stills the raven's clamorous nest,
And decks the lily fair in flowery pride,
Would, in the way his wisdom sees the best,

For them and for their little ones provide; But chiefly in their hearts with grace divine preside.

From scenes like these old Scotia's grandeur springs, That makes her loved at home, revered abroad :

Princes and lords are but the breath of kings,

"An honest man's the noblest work of God:" And certes, in fair Virtue's heavenly road,

The cottage leaves the palace far behind; What is a lordling's pomp? a cumbrous load,

O Scotia! my dear, my native soil;

For whom my warmest wish to Heaven is sent !

Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil

Be bless'd with health, and peace, and sweet content! And, oh, may Heaven their simple lives prevent

From luxury's contagion, weak and vile! Then, howe'er crowns and coronets be rent,

A virtuous populace may rise the while,

And stand a wall of fire around their much-loved Isle.

O Thou! who pour'd the patriotic tide

That stream'd thro' Wallace's undaunted heart,

Who dared to nobly stem tyrannic pride,
Or nobly die, the second glorious part,

(The patriot's God peculiarly thou art,

His friend, inspirer, guardian, and reward;)

O never, never, Scotia's realm desert!

But still the patriot, and the patriot bard,

In bright succession raise, her ornament and guard.

JOHN GILPIN.

BY WILLIAM COWPER.

[WILLIAM COWPER, the son of Dr. Cowper, chaplain to George II., was born November 15th, 1731, at his father's rectory of Great Berkhampstead, Hertfordshire. His mother, who was allied to some of the noblest families in England, died when he was about six years of age; throughout his lifetime he remembered her with the tenderest affection. At an early age Cowper was removed from a country school to Westminster, where, being constitutionally timid and delicate, the rough usage he experienced at the hands of the elder boys had a sad effect on him. At the age of eighteen he was articled to an attorney, and, in 1754, he was called to the bar; he, however, never made the law his study. Through the interest of his family, he received the appointment of Clerk of Journals of the House of Lords; but his nervousness was such that he was plunged into the deepest misery. The seeds of insanity soon became apparent, he resigned his appointment, and was placed in a private madhouse kept by Dr. Cotton, where the kind attention of his physician gradually restored his shattered mind. On his recovery he retired to Huntingdon, where he became a boarder in the family of Mr. Unwin, curate of that place. After Mr. Unwin's death, the family, on the advice of the Rev. John Newton, fixed their abode in Olney, Buckinghamshire. He there contracted a close friendship with Lady Austen, at whose instance he wrote "The Task," "John Gilpin," and other poems. Occasionally his mind was reduced to a state of imbecility, his disease taking the form of a religious melancholy. His intervals of convalescence were occupied in gardening, taming hares, and writing poetry. Towards the close of his life his gloom deepened into absolute despair. He died April 28, 1800.]

JOHN GILPIN was a citizen

Of credit and renown,

A train-band captain eke was he

Of famous London town.

John Gilpin's spouse said to her dear, "Though wedded we have been

These twice ten tedious years, yet we No holiday have seen.

"To-morrow is our wedding-day; And we will then repair

Unto the Bell at Edmonton

All in a chaise and pair.

"My sister and my sister's child, Myself and children three,

Will fill the chaise; so you must ride

On horseback after we."

He soon replied, "I do admire

Of womankind but one;

And you are she, my dearest dear;

Therefore it shall be done.

"I am a linen-draper bold,

As all the world doth know;

And my good friend the calender
Will lend his horse to go."

Quoth Mrs. Gilpin, "That's well said; And for that wine is dear,

We will be furnish'd with our own,

Which is both bright and clear.

L