_Gardener's Magazine._

* * * * *

HOME.

_Leonhard._ See here what spacious halls: how all around
Us breathes magnificence!

_Spinarosa._ A princely pile!
But ah! how nobler far its daring site!
It rears its tow'rs amid these rocks and glaciers,
As if proud man were in his might resolved
To add _his_ rock to those that spurn the vale.

_Leon._ All here is beautiful! but 'tis not home!
'Tis true I was a child scarce eight years old
When led by Pietro into Italy--
Yet are my home's green lineaments as fresh
As when first painted on my infant soul;
This castle bears them not.--My home lay hid
In the deep bosom of gigantic oaks,
That o'er its roof their guardian shadows flung.
Nor towers, nor gates, nor pinnacles, were there;
With lowly thatch and humble wicket graced,
Smiling, yet solitary, did it stand.

_Blackwood's Magazine_.

* * * * *

IRISH SONGS.

It is impossible to conceive any trash more despicable than the slang
songs which are current amongst the common people in Ireland; and this
is the more to be lamented, as the extreme susceptibility of the people
makes them liable to be easily moved to either good or evil by their
songs. Even the native Irish songs, as we are informed in Miss Brooke's
_Reliques of Irish Poetry_, are sadly interpolated with nonsensical
passages, which have been introduced to supply the place of lost or
forgotten lines; and of humorous lyrical poetry, she says there was none
in the language worth translating. Moore has given to the beautiful airs
of Ireland beautiful words; but Moore is a poet for ladies and
gentlemen, not for mankind. It may be, that there are not materials in
Ireland, for a kindred spirit to that of Burns to work upon; but the
fact is but too true, that the _poor_ Irishman has no song of even
decent ability, to cheer his hours of merriment, or soothe the period of
his sadness. Honour and undying praise be upon the memory of Burns, who
has left to us those songs which, like the breath of nature, from whose
fresh inspiration they were caught, are alike refreshing to the monarch
and the clown!--Ibid.

* * * * *

A REAL MIRACLE.

The _fable_ of Dr. Southey's _Pilgrim of Compostella_, is as follows:--

A family set forth from Aquitaine to visit the shrine of St. James, at
Compostella, whither, accordin