Bright then the crowns of kings shall be
And earth's most shining pageantry
Be lost in love :-

Nor may the pen of mortal paint
The eternal glory of the saint,

In heaven above!

"Be wise now therefore, O ye kings: be instructed, ye judges of the earth. Serve the Lord with fear, and rejoice with trembling. Blessed are they that put their trust in him."-PSALM ii. 10-12.

THE SHEPHERD MINSTREL.

WHERE gentle airs play pastime on the lea,
In summer hour;

Where the white flocks repose, from danger free,
In sun and shower;

Where the gay denizens of vale and grove
Wander at will;

Where the mild turtle tells her tale of love,

Where nature's wild flowers blossom and adorn
Each deep recess;

Where the light ash out-tops the bushy thorn,
In green-wood dress;

Where the lone streamlet wanders-I behold
A rustic form;

With fostering care he tends his fleecy fold
Nor dreads the storm.

THE SHEPHERD MINSTREL.

He roves the rocky mountain still and lone,
Desert and rude;

And there he welcomes each accordant tone
Of solitude.

He hears the ocean murmur-and the roar
Of its wild rage;

Where surfy billows dancing on the shore,
His soul engage.

He eyes the sea-bird on her heaven-ward way
Through fields of light;

Emblem of faith and love! she seeks the day,
And fades from sight.

He tracks the mountain eagle! when on high
She spreads her wing,

And mounts and soars with regal majesty,
To day's great king.

And welcome to the poet's heart the glade,
The perfumed bower,

The nut-wood alley and the tranquil shade,
The modest flower.

In nature's coverts hid, his soul descries
With poet's ken,

Of thought sublime the unveiled mysteries,—
And far from men

The ideal world he visits-where the mind
Entranced at will,

Sees visions of delight—and unconfined,

Drinks joys high fill.

K

129

Pure are those regions where the unfettered sense
To fancy's eye,

Gives welcome to refined intelligence,
In yon clear sky.

Fair is that world of thought where poets dwell,
And sweet the chime

Of melodies that rise and softly swell
With airs sublime.

Bright is that world of thought,—but brighter far
A world I paint,

Illumined by the beams of Bethlehem's star-
Where dwells the saint.

Blest are those realms and goodly the array
Of seraphs bright,

Where basking in the flood of heaven's clear day,
The awakened sight

Rejoices in the vision to behold

In pastures fair,

Each sheep and lamb of the Redeemer's fold
In his good care.

Thrice happy then the minstrel who shall sing
With practised chord,

In concert joined, the praises of our King,
Redemption's Lord.

He is our soul's great Shepherd,—and his voice
Of tenderest love,

Calls us to make His fold of peace our choice,
In rest above.

"There shall be one fold and one Shepherd."-JOHN x. 16.

THE YOUNG PHILOSOPIIER.

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THE YOUNG PHILOSOPHER.

IN Alma Mater nurst, where honours spread
Their glittering sheen,

"Twas thine to gather round thy youthful head,
Those laurels green:

Wisdom and learning, truth and genius high,
To thee were given ;—

Thy glance surveyed this earth, and yon clear sky,
The empyreal heaven :

And there at length, it rested;-for the star
Of Bethlehem

Led thee like eastern sages, from afar

To her pure gem.

Thy soul could then give worship—and bow down
Before that Child

Whose tempered glory on thy spirit shone,
With influence mild.

He was thy crown, thy blessing, and the light
That cheered thy way;

He on thy pathway poured a radiance bright,
And gave the day!

"Now when Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea in the days of Herod the king, behold, there came wise men from the east to Jerusalem, saying, Where is he that is born King of the Jews? for we have seen his star in the east, and are come to worship him."-MATT. ii. 1, 2.

LA SPECTATRICE,

How shall my pencil picture forth
A lady of illustrious worth,-
A lady fair?—

One whose superior mental power
Shines out with intellect's rich dower,
Like jewels rare.

No child of vagrant thought was she, No nonchalante, nor devotee

Of fashion's train;

She poured no tribute at her shrine, Nor did she sweetest flowers entwine To deck her reign.

Like minstrel at the close of day
Her wing she folded from Display--
For well she knew

The charms that flutter and beguile,
The voice of flattery and her smile
Alike untrue.

A winning moralist was she,

Of wit and truth and repartee

And lofty mould;

And see! where finished by her hand,

Her pictured tales engraven, stand
In outline bold.