eyes, whose dewy light out-flashes
Like joyous day-spring after summer rain;
And she, the enchantress, loved the youth again
With maiden's first affection, fond and true,
--Ah! youthful love is like the tranquil main,
Heaving 'neath smiling skies its bosom blue--
Beautiful as a spirit--calm, but fearful too!

Our limits compel us to break off once more, which is a source of
regret, especially when our path is strewn with such gems as these:--

A gentle star lights up their solitude
And lends fair hues to all created things;
And dreams alone of beings pure and good
Hover around their hearts with angel wings--
Hearts, like sweet fountains sealed, where silent rapture springs.

Here is a beautiful apostrophe--

Oh Nature! by impassioned hearts alone
Thy genuine charms are felt. The vulgar mind
Sees but the shadow of a power unknown;
Thy loftier beauties beam not to the blind
And sensual throng, to grovelling hopes resigned:
But they whom high and holy thoughts inspire
Adore thee, in celestial glory shrined
In that diviner fane where Love's pure fire
Burns bright, and Genius tunes his loud immortal Lyre!

The halcyon days at length draw to a close, and sorrows "in
battalions" compel them to emigrate and bid

Farewell to the scenes they ne'er shall visit more.

The remainder is rather abrupt, at least much more so than the lovers
of fervid poetry could wish, especially as the termination is with the
following exquisite ballad:--

Our native land, our native vale,
A long and last adieu!
Farewell to bonny Lynden-dale,
And Cheviot mountains blue.

Farewell, ye hills of glorious deeds,
And streams renowned in song:
Farewell, ye blithsome braes and meads
Our hearts have loved so long.

Farewell, ye broomy elfin knowes,
Where thyme and harebells grow;
Farewell, ye hoary haunted howes,
O'erhung with birk and sloe.

The battle-mound, the border-tower,
That Scotia's annals tell:
Thy martyr's grave, the lover's bower--
To each--to all--farewell!

Home of our hearts! our father's home!
Land of the brave and free!
The keel is flashing through the foam
That bears us far from thee.

We seek a wild and distant shore
Beyond the Atlantic main:
We leave thee to return no more,
Nor view thy cliffs again.

But may dishonour blight our fame,
And quench our household fires,
When we or ours forg