Found lying, with a livid scorch,
As if from lightning, o'er her heart!

"Well done!" a laughing goblin said,
Escaping from this gaseous strife;
"'Tis not the first time Love has made
"A blow-up in connubial life."

REMONSTRANCE.

After a conversation with L-d J—— R-
in which he had intimated some idea of giving
up all political pursuits.

WHAT! thou, with thy genius, thy youth, and thy name-
Thou, born of a Russell-whose instinct to run
The accustom'd career of thy sires, is the same
As the eaglet's, to soar with his eyes on the sun!

Whose nobility comes to thee, stamp'd with a seal,

Far, far more ennobling than monarch e'er set; With the blood of thy race offer'd up for the weal

Of a nation that swears by that martyrdom yet!

Shalt thou be faint-hearted and turn from the strife, From the mighty arena where all that is grand, And devoted, and pure, and adorning in life,

Is for high-thoughted spirits, like thine, to command?

Oh no, never dream it—while good men despair Between tyrants and traitors, and timid men bow, Never think, for an instant, thy country can spare Such a light from her dark'ning horizon as thou!

With a spirit as meek as the gentlest of those

Who in life's sunny valley lie shelter'd and warm, Yet bold and heroic as ever yet rose

To the top cliffs of Fortune, and breasted her storm;

With an ardour for liberty, fresh as, in youth,

It first kindles the bard and gives life to his lyre ; Yet mellow'd, even now, by that mildness of truth Which tempers, but chills not, the patriot fire;

With an eloquence-not like those rills from a height, Which sparkle, and foam, and in vapour are o'er; But a current that works out its way into light Through the filtering recesses of thought and of lore.

Thus gifted, thou never canst sleep in the shade;
If the stirrings of genius, the music of fame,

And the charms of thy cause have not power to persuade,

Yet think how to freedom thou'rt pledged by thy

name.

Like the boughs of that laurel, by Delphi's decree, apart for the fane and its service divine,

Set

All the branches that spring from the old Russell tree, Are by Liberty claim'd for the use of her shrine.

EPITAPH ON A LAWYER.

HERE lies a lawyer-one whose mind
(Like that of all the lawyer kind)
Resembled, though so grave and stately,
The pupil of a cat's eye greatly;
Which for the mousing deeds, transacted
In holes and corners, is well fitted,
But which, in sunshine, grows contracted,
As if 'twould-rather not admit it;

As if, in short, a man would quite

Throw time away, who tried to let in a Decent portion of God's light

On lawyer's mind or pussy's retina.

Hence, when he took to politics,

As a refreshing change of evil, Unfit with grand affairs to mix His little Nisi-Prius tricks,

Like imps at bo-peep, play'd the devil; And proved that when a small law wit Of statesmanship attempts the trial, 'Tis like a player on the kit

Put all at once to a bass viol.

Nay, even when honest (which he could
Be, now and then), still quibbling daily,
He served his country as he would

A client thief at the Old Bailey.

But-do him justice-short and rare

His wish through honest paths to roam; Born with a taste for the unfair,

Where falsehood call'd, he still was there,

And when least honest most at home.

Thus, shuffling, bullying, lying, creeping,
He work'd his way up near the throne,
And, long before he took the keeping
Of the king's conscience, lost his own.

MY BIRTH-DAY.

"My birth-day!"-What a different sound
That word had in my youthful ears!
And how, each time the day comes round,
Less and less white its mark appears!

When first our scanty years are told,
It seems like pastime to grow old;
And, as Youth counts the shining links

That time around him binds so fast,
Pleased with the task, he little thinks
How hard that chain will press at last.

Vain was the man, and false as vain,
Who said" were he ordain'd to run

*FONTENELLE." Si je recommençais ma carrière, je ferais tout ce que j'ai fait."