-of a virtue that is driven and not attracted, founded on the meanness of calculation, measuring out its obedience, grudging its generosity, thinking only of its visible and tangible rewards? Think of a state of society in which there is no love of beauty, or elegance, or ornament; and then may be seen and felt the utility of ornament, the substance of decoration, the sublimity of beauty, the usefulness of flowers.

THE MINSTREL TO HIS HARP.

WHEN youthful transport led the hours,
And all my way was bright with flowers,
Ah, then, my harp, thy dulcet note
To songs of joy-would lightly float;
To thee I sung in numbers wild,
Of Hope and Love, who gaily smiled.

And now, though young delight is o'er,
And golden visions charm no more;
Though now, my harp, thy mellow tone
I wake to mournful strains alone-

To me thy sound recalls the hours
When all my way was bright with flowers.

MRS. HEMANS.

THINGS THAT CHANGE.

I GAZED on the sun in his vesture bright,
Belted with gold, and robed in light,
When dew-drops spangled the bush and thorn
With a wreath of pearls, to bedeck the morn,
And glory streamed o'er the sapphire skies,
Like the opening gates of Paradise.

But twilight came, with its shadows grey
And melted the glorious scene away ;
While nature, void, like a lonely hall
After a princely festival—

The music hushed, and the grandeur fled—
With gloom and silence was overspread.

In the opening reign of the bright spring time,
I bathed my heart in the sunny clime:

Young flowers sprang up, and young birds took wing,
And the streamlet flowed from the gushing spring;

And youth, o'er the fairy scene, like dew,
Extracted emotions soft and true.

Then gaily dancing o'er all the earth,
The broad-faced summer poured forth its mirth;
The orchard look'd like a blushing maid,
And fields were in golden robes array'd;
While festival fruits and cereal stores
Were richly spread o'er the jocund shores.

But Winter, at length, with withering power,
The last leaves stripped from the garden bower,
And bade his winds from the biting north
Hang all their frozen drapery forth;
Deserted Nature, bewrapped in gloom,
Lay cold as the breast of a marble tomb.

I turn'd from the world of fields and flowers,
To bask in the smile of social hours,
Where the warm libations of friendship flowed,
And the heart with a cloudless sunshine glowed,
Like the fountain-springs of exhaustless joy,
With the pureness of gold without alloy.

But a cloud passed o'er the domestic scene,
And hearts were estranged, that one had been ;
Or the angel of death had spread his wings,
And hushed the joy of the heart's deep strings;
So the ruby had lost its attractive red,
And the rose its fragrance had ceased to shed.

Oh, thus, wherever we cast our eyes,

On the flower-strewed earth, or the laughing skies,
Types of the scenes of elysian home,

The spirit of change is seen to roam—
For permanent joys the soul must rise,
And bask in the light of paradise.

W. J. BROCK.

SONNET.-EVENTIDE.

Now Nature, vested in her evening stole, Before the vesper altar meekly kneels; Bland silence reigns-a holy influence steals, In mild effusion o'er the troubled soul.

Delightful thoughts and feelings, at this hour,

With angel sweetness to the heart are given; The winds are hushed to rest; the tiny flower Reclines its head, as if in prayer to Heaven. The very silence teems with eloquence,

Like tones which lie embosomed in the lyre, Awaiting but the touch to call them hence, And sweet-voiced sentiments in man inspire. W. J. BROCK.

66

BERTHA CLERVILLE.

BUT, my father !-Edward, I cannot leave my poor father, not even to perfect your happiness! No! I cannot leave my father."

There was a pause after these words had been delivered in a sweetly agitated voice, and a faint sound, as if some one endeavouring to check the rising sobs of bitter emotion; after which another voice said :

"It will be but the first burst of passion-the first short interval of sullenness and gloom, and you will be forgiven. Think, dear Bertha, think upon the long and happy years which we will share together; think upon the fervour of my love, nay, adoration, and say if one bold step shall be wanting to consummate our long desired union."

"I have often thought, Edward, till thought is drowned by sorrow. I cannot-I dare not think of it longer."

As these words were spoken, two figures were seen