But touch not their debate, nor be so silly
As needlessly betray your Piccadilly;
For if you do, 'twere better far to pass
For ignorant of even the name of gas;

Or hint your faith, that on Pierian pool

Nor swims, nor chants, a lovelier swan than Hoole.

For me-remote from all the social scene-
A cloistered walk extends a leafy screen,
Where I at close of eve have oft retired,
And the tall pile with solemn eyes admired;
Perhaps, despite podagrian dreads of dew,
I'll tempt ye forth for once, to share the view,
And give an amen to my blessing too.

-By Tweed's clear flood, may many a guest unborn,
See Worth and Genius their own halls adorn-
Genius and Virtue, partnership divine,

Dear to all eyes, to none more dear than thine,
Nor fairer found, since man was Eden's lord,
Than 'neath the stately roof of Abbotsford.

September, 1821.

THE YOUNGLING OF THE FLOCK.

BY ALARIC A. WATTS.

The last! the last! the last!

Oh! by that little word

How many thoughts are stirred.

I.

MISS BOWLES.

WELCOME! thrice welcome to my heart, sweet harbinger of bliss!

How have I looked, till hope grew sick, for a moment bright as this;

Thou hast flashed upon my aching sight when fortune's clouds are dark,

The sunny spirit of my dreams-the dove unto mine ark!

II.

Oh no, not even when life was new, and love and hope

were young,

And o'er the firstling of my flock with raptured gaze I hung, Did I feel the glow that thrills me now, the yearnings fond

and deep,

That stir my bosom's inmost strings as I watch thy placid sleep!

III.

Though loved and cherished be the flower that springs 'neath summer skies,

The bud that blooms 'mid wintry storms more tenderly we prize;

One does but make our bliss more bright, the other meets

our eye

Like a radiant star, when all beside have vanished from

on high.

IV.

Sweet blossom of my stormy hour-star of my troubled

heaven!

To thee that passing sweet perfume, that soothing light

is given;

And precious art thou to my soul, but dearer far that

thou,

A messenger of peace and love,-art sent to cheer me

now.

V.

What though my heart be crowded close with inmates dear though few,

Creep in, my little smiling babe, there's still a niche for you!

And should another claimant rise, and clamour for a

place,

Who knows but room may yet be found, if it wears as fair a face!

VI.

I listen to thy feeble cry, till it wakens in my breast The sleeping energies of love-sweet hopes, too long represt!

For weak as that low wail may seem to other ears than

mine,

It stirs my heart like a trumpet's voice, to strive for thee and thine!

VII.

It peals upon my dreaming soul, sweet tidings of the

birth

Of a new and blessed link of love, to fetter me to earth; And, strengthening many a bright resolve, it bids me do

and dare

All that a father's heart may brave, to make thy sojourn fair!

VIII.

I cannot shield thee from the blight a bitter world may

fling

O'er all the promise of thy youth-the visions of thy

spring ;

For I would not warp thy gentle heart-each kindlier impulse ban,

By teaching thee-what I have learned-how base a thing is man!

IX.

I cannot save thee from the griefs to which our flesh is

heir,

But I can arm thee with a spell, life's keenest ills to

bear.

I may not fortune's frowns avert, but I can bid thee

pray

For wealth this world can never give, nor ever take

away!

X.

From altered friendship's chilling glance-from hate's envenomed dart;

Misplaced affection's withering pang-or "true love's" wonted smart,

I cannot shield my sinless child; but I can bid him seek Such faith and love from heaven above, as will leave earth's malice weak.

XI.

But wherefore doubt that He who makes the smallest bird

his care,

And tempers to the new-shorn lamb the blast it ill could

bear,

Will still His guiding arm extend, his glorious plan pursue, And if He gives thee ills to bear, will grant thee courage

too!