... ORICGJL AI. POETRI. THE LAST OF 111S RACE. ?? AN' i'Nl'TlMlSllD P'OEM, B1Y D. MiiE. YODDL'I.,.. 11Yrril the liue chy above hilni, t lie green earth below, Anid the pure air around Iii h, w lcre'er lie nay go Witi a stlsreig limid to velcomne P is friund3 1r Iilid foes, A nil a dclg. ever fai dlful, to wateh his, reproe ; lie wavkes on tile )Ullntaill, lie Mieeips ill the glen. IeI drinlis of ...

... LONG YEARS ITEAVE PASSE.P NFW 9ONG BYV'I IOMAS MOORir. LoNG Vyears lhave pass'd, old friend, since we Flet met in lifc's young day; AID friends long loved by thee and me, Since theu lhavc dropp'd ?? Bat enough remain to chleer Us on, And sweeten, wilen this we're met, The glass we fill to Ihc minny gone, Aud tile few v1ho'ro ?? us yet. Our locks, r id friend, now thinly grow, And some hrang ...

... LIVTEhAII1W NOTICE. ,e,,M on preached in Aorti lesk Churlch on the Evening of the Day of Thanhsqiriiny appointed by the Synod f L othiant and Tweeddale for the late abundant irar iret. By the Rev. Alex. Davidson, Minister of North. , iA. Edinlburgh, 1841. Wg have perused this discourse with no ordinary satis- faction, add this is no mediocre praise when it is recol locted that nine-tenths of ...

... oRIGINAL POETRY TIlE NVI1LD)EUIESS FLOWV'ER. SwoINr lonely fl ywer, I love thee, T'ho' othurs heed thee not; A nd the bright blue skies above tils, l)isown thy lonely lot. Far it, the trackless desert Thou bhwoviest all alono No hiouin hand to tend thee, 'hi kidness to theesiluowu. TIlo will-bee hummiling o'er thee, Stops not to kibs thy leaves; IUat refrcaling dews restoro thee, In tie ...

... SIIERIDAN K;NOIYVLE''S NEWV COMNEDY. CQV9N'T GAs O T'N'Ygi'E~t v -Thii prnI' ololion of She- i'idan Knowles's comedy, Wdd ai`i~i.leS, drew on ?? uesIlvI righit to this hlouse alli audienceecrowdud to ovierfliiw 'I'lie uoig~)nial ?? unde]r whichl thisl driminiict novetty makies its appearan ce is not to lie Itiken iii it it eral sig-1i ica- tion, ho,, itii etmpeied ci ti e Clfiia ,ii' /itres ...

... TIHE DREAM-A MYSTERY. I RSEBMT that I was vardering by a stream, Along whore shelvilg biaks graow mnialy a flower Of rtairy briglhtcss, aad whose breast did aeem Trerdling u itlh jay, as if it ielt the powvr (f its own tir illitig inelody- the glcania Ot day's declina g orb, hI golden sh civer, Descended o'cr the earth, nod hiomn t!e shy D)ay brcathed in even';s ear big pia a Ling sigh. ] ae ...

... ORIGINAL POE T.R Y. MY MARY. Et mo fecere poetamn Picrides.- V1iril. * Quod si me lyricis vatibus inscres Sublimi fcriam sidera vortico.-Hi4race. Wmo is the nymph so young and gay, S On whose cheek mirth and humour play, Whose edes on me in scoret stray F My Mary I lyhoso first young thoughts to me havo fled, Whoso first fond glance on me was shed, Whoise lceks of love to mine first sped ? ...

... SONG. Amn-1 Th7 Soldier's Tear. is not affection's nerve, Within the scanmur's brcast, More sensitively tender than The love that's ne'er distrcss'd ? The bhusband on the shore, With wifo and cl!ild still near, fie need not heave tho sever'd sigh, Or drop the absent tear. The seamen comes from lands Tar, far o'er many ix aves, And seehts bis little homely cot, Wlrilst hope, ecstatic, raves 0 ...

... (Froin the London . Puris Ladies'1Magazine qfFaslieon,) Materials of silk or worsted are now so varied and beati- fal, atid also so moderate in price, that in Paris they are more fashionable than the coloured mnslins, or cottoni manfatc- tires. baregrs, fonlards, persannes chine, &c. &c. and a now article imitrtting lace, lined with collurs, with robes of tar- latane in piik or bitte, ...

... A SABBATII EVE. Tima sun is but a stride above the hills, And he looks weary with his watchling long, And welcomes these bhie peaks, and shadowy glens, 'Well fit for iIummler. Many a liveried cloud Stamids at his crmamber door; beside his feet The sweet-tonvued lark porsuadoth him to sleep. In sooth it hath been a stianige day-each hour Unlike its neighboiar hour. The morning rose With ...

... SER EN A DE. Tnr. moon is high III the Mloudless sky, The twinhlirng stars shine brightly, love- DI7y lute is bere, And its toncs FO clear Will blend witi thly voice all lighitly love; And tbe breezc will fling From its balmy wiig Tho sounds o'er lalko and hill, my love; And ccho wvill tell, From her viewlcss bell, That thei midnight winds are still, my love. Oh, come when the stream Beneath ...

... SPIRT that breathest through my lattice, thon That cool'st the twilight of the sultry day, Gratefully flows thy freshness round my brow Thou hast been out upon tho deep at play, Riding all day their wild blue waves till now Roughening their crests, and scattering high their spray, And swelling the white sail. I welcome thee To the scorched land, thou wanderer of the sea! -Nor I alone-a ...