To

I have a deep and sacred shrine
Where friendship might repair,
Felicia, wilt thou give me thine,
And I'll enshrine it there;

I'll offer it thoughts as pure and true
As were e'er at its altar given ;

As soft as the fall of the Summer eve's dew,
And as mild as the Summer eve's heaven.

And never shall wilder passion break

On its pure and holy rest,

"Twill be calm and bright as the deep, deep lake

With the moonlight on its breast;

And I'll wreath it around with flowers, and song,

Of every tone and dye,

The muse shall her fondest lay prolong,

And the flower its most fragrant sigh.

Do you ask where this sacred shrine may be ?
And whence these flowers shall spring?

And who is the muse, that, so witchingly,

Her ravishing spell shall fling?

Fond thoughts-fond thoughts, that never will die,

"Till life itself depart,

Shall be the flowers :-and the melody

Kind words-and the shrine-my heart.

Oh! deem not this love,-to love's withering flame,

Such purity ne'er was given,

On earth 'tis abused under friendship's name,

Perhaps it is love-in Heaven.

On a Fruit Knife with the Inscription

"WHO IS SHE."

"Some beauteous bird without a name."-MOORE.

Who is she? Is the spell
Of beauty on her brow?
Or does her pale cheek tell
The breach of plighted vow?
Does she among the gay,

Run pleasure's giddy round?
Or is she mid the holy haunts
Of meditation found?

Who is she?-Is her heart

Young passion's burning shrine?

Or did its early dream depart,

And leave it cold as mine?

Did all the visions fade

Gay fancy loves to nurse?
And have their parting footsteps left
A blessing or a curse?

Who is she?-Mid the fair

Should I her form descry,
Is her's the sunny hair,

And still more sunny eye?

Or doth the darker hue

The raven's plume displays,

Dwell on each tress? and has she all
The falcon in her gaze?

G

Who is she?-Is her thought
Of or beyond the earth?
Has her rich fancy caught

Those shapes of glorious birth,
Which, in its golden dream,
Imagination sees?

Or does it cling to this dull world's
More dull realities?

Who is she?-nay, unfold
The secret name-yet still
I would not have it told;-

The thousand thoughts that fill
My guessing fancy now,

Would vanish as they came, And leave, instead of visions bright, A name—an empty name.

MR. O'CONNELL.

Beyond a doubt men are boru for particular times and peculiar circumstances. It may be that all, from the highest to the lowest, have their particular allotments; but then, in the every-day transactions of common life, the ordination is not so obvious. It is only in stirring times, and on great occasions, that we admire the extreme adaptation with which providence fits its instruments to the period and the purpose. We may be all the creatures of circumstances, but men who conduct high undertakings to sucessful issues must be the creators of circumstances also. Washington possessed, in the highest possible degree, the simple but great qualities that fitted him for the singleness of purpose to which he was destined. The formation of an O'CONNELL (we had almost said was a more difficult task) required a nicer adaptation for the more involved and complex state of society, which he was evidently raised up to simplify and reform. Taxation without representation was the moving cause of the American Revolution, and, in the pursuit and attainment of that one object, they acquired all the blessings and advantages which self-government confers.

The state of society which O'Connell seems created to reform is widely different; the abuses he is

destined to rectify, are more numerous and complex. He has to unravel the tangled skein which it has been the policy and practice of centuries to endeavour more and more to confound; and, as far as he has proceeded, we have found him admirably fitted for the task. There is not in the world a race more proud of their birth-place than the Irish of all sects and parties. Deny to her children, in the presence of one of her sons, the possession of any of the abstract virtues, and you must either swallow your words, or give the usual satisfaction "in opposition bloody" attribute, in the presence of a partizan or sectarian, any single virtuous action or motive to an individual of the opposite cause or creed, and it is met by the most acrimonious and measureless abuse. Thus, if you admit the evidence of both parties, and take the character of the population from their united testimony, there is not on the face of the earth such a set of robbers, savages, and out-laws on the one hand; tyrants, oppressors, and murderers on the other; but let either draw a character for the abstract Irishman, they so overload it with vir

es, that you can scarcely discover its humanity. Nothing less than a descended god could compete with the high-wrought portraiture. They "raise a mortal to the skies" with a vengeance.

To deal with a race, so patriotic yet so divided, so devoted to country yet so dissevered by faction, was a most delicate task and demanded wary working. About the time that Mr. O'Connell began to grow into importance, an attempt to unite the jarring