of Dunfermline, so well known
for his antiquarian pursuits, he has been indebted for generous support
and kindly encouragement. Mr Macansh labours under severe physical
debility.

THE MOTHER AND CHILD.

The mother, with her blooming child,
Sat by the river pool,
Deep in whose waters lay the sky,
So stilly beautiful.
She held her babe aloft, to see
Its infant image look
Up joyous, laughing, leaping from
The bosom of the brook.

And as it gazed upon the stream,
The wondering infant smiled,
And stretched its little hands, and tried
To clasp the shadow'd child,
Which, in that silent underwold,
With eager gesture strove
To meet it with a brother-kiss,
A brother-clasp of love.

Laugh on, laugh on, my happy child,
('Twas thus the mother sung;)
The shrew, Experience, has not yet
With envious gesture flung
Aside the enchanted veil which hides
Life's pale and dreary look;
An angel lurks in every stream,
A heaven in every brook.

Laugh on, laugh on, my happy child,
Ere drop the tears of woe
Upon that mirror, scattering all
Those glorious shapes, and show
A fleeting shadow, which thou think'st
An angel, breathing, living--
A shallow pebbly brook which thou
Hast fondly deem'd a heaven.

CHANGE.

Change! change! the mournful story
Of all that 's been before;
The wrecks of perish'd glory
Bestrewing every shore:
The shatter'd tower and palace,
In every vale and glen,
In broken language tell us
Of the fleeting power of men.

Change! change! the plough is sweeping
O'er some scene of household mirth,
The sickle hand is reaping
O'er some ancient rural hearth--
Where the mother and the daughter
In the evenings used to spin,
And where little feet went patter,
Full often out and in.

Change! change! for all things human,
Thrones, powers of amplest wing,
Have their flight, and fall in common
With the meanest mortal thing--
With beauty, love, and passion,
With all of earthly trust,
With life's tiniest wavelet dashing,
Curling, breaking into dust.

Where arose in marble grandeur
The wall'd cities of the past,
The sullen winds now wander
O'er a ruin-mounded waste.
Low lies each lofty column;