Cauld blew the bitter-biting North Scarce rear'd above the parent earth The flaunting flowers our gardens yield, O' clod or stane, Adorns the histie stibble-field, Unseen, alane. There in thy scanty mantle clad, But now the share uptears thy bed, Such is the fate of artless maid, Sweet flow'ret of the rural shade! By love's simplicity betray'd, And guileless trust, Till she, like thee, all soil'd, is laid THE SKY-LARK. (Hogg.) IRD of the wilderness, Blithesome and cumberless, Sweet be thy matin o'er moorland and lea! Blest is thy dwelling-place O to abide in the desert with thee! Wild is thy lay and loud, Far in the downy cloud, Love gives it energy, love gave it birth. Where art thou journeying? Thy lay is in heaven, thy love is on earth. O'er fell and fountain sheen, O'er moor and mountain green, O'er the red streamer that heralds the day, Over the cloudlet dim, Over the rainbow's rim, Then, when the gloaming comes, Sweet will thy welcome and bed of love be! Blest is thy dwelling-place O to abide in the desert with thee! G 0 (Robert Chambers.) IRL" is a word of delightful sense. It suggests ideas of lightness, elegancé, and grace, joined to simplicity, innocence, and truth, all embodied in that class of human beings which make the nearest approach to the angelic. The very sound of the word is appropriateit comes upon the ear and the heart like a flourish of fairy trumpets. The letters which compose it seem to be all dancing as they trip along. There is no slur or drag in this exquisite syllable; it is a kind. of perpetual motion. How far, the same ideas may be suggested by |