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LINES WRITTEN AFTER SEEING WINDSOR CASTLE.

FROM beauteous Windsor's high and storied halls,
Where Edward's chiefs start from the glowing walls,
To my low cot, from ivory beds of state,

Pleas'd I return, unenvious of the great :-
So the Bee ranges o'er the varied scenes
Of corn, of heaths, of fallows, and of greens,
Pervades the thicket, soars above the hill,
Or murmurs to the meadow's murmuring rill;
Now haunts old hollow'd oaks, deserted cells,
Now seeks the low vale-lily's silver bells;
Sips the warm fragrance of the greenhouse bowers,
And tastes the myrtle and the citron flowers;
At length returning to the wonted comb,
Prefers to all his little straw-built home.

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VIOLETS.

BEAUTIFUL are you in your lowliness;

Bright in your hues, delicious in your scent;
Lovely your modest blossoms, downward bent,
As shrinking from our gaze, yet prompt to bless
The passer-by with fragrance, and express

How gracefully, though mutely eloquent,
Are unobtrusive worth, and meek content,
Rejoicing in their own obscure recess.
Delightful flowerets! at the voice of Spring

Your buds unfolded to its sunbeams bright;

And though your blossoms soon shall fade from sight,
Above your lowly birth-place birds shall sing.

And from your clust'ring leaves the glow-worm fling
The emerald glory of its earth-born light.

B. BARTON.

The sweet Violet, Viola odorata, has been in all ages a favourite, and is recognized by poets as the emblem of modesty and innocence. This flower of the field has been also made the badge of political feeling, the violet in France being the emblem of the liberal party.-When the corolla and calyx are removed, the stigma and anther are in shape not unlike the ostrich. It was from the examination of this flower that Mr. J. Bartram, the friend and patron of Alexander Wilson, was first induced to commence the delightful study of Botany.

THE MELODIES OF MORNING.

BUT who the melodies of morn can tell?

The wild brook babbling down the mountain side;
The lowing herd: the sheepfold's simple bell;
The pipe of early shepherd dim descried
In the lone valley; echoing far and wide
The clamorous horn along the cliffs above;
The hollow murmur of the ocean-tide ;
The hum of bees, the linnet's lay of love,
And the full choir that wakes the universal grove.

The cottage-curs at early pilgrim bark; Crown'd with her pail the tripping milkmaid sings; The whistling ploughman stalks afield; and, hark! Down the rough slope the ponderous waggon rings, Through rustling corn, the hare astonished springs: Slow tolls the village-clock the drowsy hour; The partridge bursts away on whirring wings; Deep mourns the turtle in sequester'd bower, And shrill lark carols clear from her aerial tour.

BEATTIE.

SPRING FLOWERS,

BOWING adorers of the gale
Ye cowslips delicately pale,
Upraise your loaded stems;

Unfold your cups in splendour, speak!
Who decked you with that ruddy streak,
And gilt your golden gems?

Violets, sweet tenants of the shade,
In purple's richest pride array'd,
Your errand here fulfil;
Go, bid the artist's simple stain
Your lustre imitate, in vain,

And match your MAKER'S skill.

Daisies, ye flowers of lowly birth,
Embroiderers of the carpet earth,
That stud the velvet sod;
Open to Spring's refreshing air,
In sweetest smiling bloom declare
Your MAKER, and my GoD.

CLARE.

THE SUDDEN EFFECTS OF SPRING.

WHAT prodigies can Power Divine perform
More grand than it produces year by year,
And all in sight of inattentive man?
Familiar with the effect we slight the cause,
And in the constancy of Nature's course,
The regular return of genial months,
And renovation of a faded world,
See nought to wonder at.-

But let the months go round, a few short months,
And all shall be restor❜d. These naked shoots,
Barren as lances, among which the wind
Makes wintry music, sighing as it goes,
Shall put their graceful foliage on again,
And more aspiring, and with ampler spread,

Shall boast new charms, and more than they have lost.
Then each, in its peculiar honours clad,
Shall publish even to the distant eye
Its family and tribe. Laburnum, rich
In streaming gold; syringa, ivory pure;

The scentless and the scented rose; this red
And of an humbler growth, the other* tall
And throwing up into the darkest gloom
Of neighbouring cypress, or more sable yew,
His silver globes, light as the foamy surf
That the wind severs from the broken wave;
The lilac, various in array, now white,

Now sanguine, and her beauteous head now set
With purple spikes pyramidal, as if

Studious of ornament, yet unresolv'd

Which hue she most approv'd, she chose them all;

Copious of flowers the woodbine, pale and wan,

But well compensating her sickly looks
With never-cloying odours, early and late?

The Guelder-rose.

Hypericum all bloom, so thick a swarm

Of flowers, like flies clothing her slender rods,
That scarce a leaf appears; mezereon too,
Though leafless, well-attir'd, and thick beset
With blushing wreaths, investing every spray ;
Althea with the purple eye; the broom,
Yellow and bright, as bullion unalloy'd,
Her blossoms and luxuriant above all
The jasmine, throwing wide her elgeant sweets,
The deep dark green of whose unvarnish'd leaf
Makes more conspicuous, and illumines more,
The bright profusion of her scatter'd stars-
These have been, and these shall be in their day;
And all this uniform uncolour'd scene

Shall be dismantled of its fleecy load,

And flush into variety again.

COWPER.

SWALLOWS.

YE gentle birds, that perch aloof,
And smooth your pinions on my roof,
Preparing for departure hence,

Ere Winter's angry threats commence ;

Like you, my soul would smooth her plume,
For longer flights beyond the tomb.

May God, by whom is seen and heard
Departing man and wandering bird,
In mercy mark me for His own,

And guide me to the land unknown!

HAYLEY.

"When I used to rise in a morning last Autumn and see the Swallows and Martins clustering on the chimneys and thatch of the neighbouring cottages, I could not help being touched with a secret delight, mixed with some degree of mortification:with delight, to observe with how much ardour and punctuality those poor little birds obeyed the strong impulse towards migration, imprinted on their minds by the great Creator; and with some degree of mortification, when I reflected that, after all our pains and enquiries, we are yet not quite certain to what regions they do migrate."-GILBERT WHITE.

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