parent tree which shadowed, nourished, and supported the fresh young tendrils that twined around it; now there was a deep, deep void within her heart. Death had breathed upon her paradise; he had laid his cold hand upon those delicate vines; he had torn them asunder; had gathered all but three young blossoms to twine around and wither on his clay-cold brow. Her affection for the dead was now transferred with tenfold ardour to the living; the buoyancy and hope of youth was gone; but love, a mother's love, can never perish, and her spirit, chastened and subdued by the hand of affliction, clung to Melanie as to some guardian angel, some being of superior mould, who seemed unfitted for the cares and buffetings of life, and yet foreboding fancy had never dared to whisper she could die; and now the dreadful summons had arrived; she saw it in the flushed and fevered cheek, the throbbing pulse, the eye of piercing brilliancy; she heard it in the tremulous accents of her beloved one, they mingled all the sweetness of heaven, and all the sadness of earth; and the memory of those tones stole over her mind like a soothing murmur, as she buried her face in her hands, and the tears stole silently between them. She was startled from her revery by a sound like the distant trampling of horses' feet; she turned-the sound came nearer-" It is he !" and she rushed down the steps of the piazza, and with her hand upon the gate leaned anxiously over the little enclosure. She scarcely breathed. It was a horseman riding furiously down the little hill to the right, and as he passed in the moonlight, hope could deceive her no longer; it was not he, it was the express; he dashed along through the row of sentinels, and waving his cap in the air, his hoarse voice broke painfully upon the silence of the night.

"The enemy! the enemy!" he shouted, "they have come on by forced marches; they are now encamped within two miles; they will be here by daybreak," and he dashed on, arousing the sleeping echoes, till the trampling of his horse's feet, and the tones of his stentorian voice were alike lost in the distance. Mrs. Mentreville slowly and mechanically returned to the piazza, and a thousand agonizing thoughts swept like a burning torrent through her brain. The British army was rapidly approaching; the conflict would probably take place at day. break; her husband had gone to secure them a place of refuge, but he returned not; perhaps he was a prisoner in the British camp, and she, a helpless woman, with one young and timid daughter, and one, so dear a one, just dying, was left alone in the deserted village, exposed to the cruel insults of the British soldiery, should they conquer, and to all the terror and tumult of a desperate conflict even should they fail. Oh! that was a night of agony, and never, through all the vicissitudes of after life, did one thought, one feeling then endured fade from the volume of her memory. As the thoughts of danger and the necessity of exertion passed through her mind, she wiped the tears from her eyes, and whispered within herself, "This weakness will not do; I have a part to perform. I am the only guardian of my three dear ones; we cannot fly, and if the British conquer, as I fear they must, I will appeal for protection to their officers! they have wives and children."

POETICAL REMAINS.

TO MY MOTHER.

MOTHER! thou bid'st me touch the lyre,
And wake its sweetest tones for thee;
To kindle fancy's dying fire,

And light the torch of poetry.
Mother! how sweet the word, how pure,
As if from heaven the accents came;
If aught can rouse the dormant soul,
It is that cherish'd, honour'd name.
Deep in the heart's recess it dwells;

It lives with being's earliest dawn;
With reason's light expands and swells,
And dies with parting life alone.
Mother! 't is childhood's first essay,
Breathed in its trembling tones of love;
It lights the heart, through life's long way,
And points to holier worlds above!

It is a name, whose mighty spell

Can draw the chain'd affections forth, Can rouse the feelings from their cell, And give each purer impulse birth. Then will I wake my sleeping muse,

And strive to breathe my thoughts in song, Though sweetest strains must fail to speak The heart's affections, deep and strong.

PRIDE AND MODESTY,

JUST where a wild and rapid stream
Roll'd back its waves in seeming pride,
Flowers of each softly varying hue
Were sweetly blooming, side by side.

Shaded by many a bending tree,

Their glowing cups with dew-drops fill'd, Nature's fair daughters blushing stood, And all their fragrant sweets distill'd.

Oh, 't was a wild and lovely spot,

Which well might seem a spirit's home! A lone retreat, a noiseless grot,

Where earth's rude blasts could never come.

Within a broad and open glade,

A tulip spread its gaudy hue,
While, 'neath the myrtle's clustering shade,
A sweetly-drooping lily grew.

As the light zephyrs o'er them swept,
And heighten'd many a rosy glow,
A strange, deep murmur round them crept,
Like distant music, wild and low.

"Twas the gay tulip's fragrant breath,
Which many an answering echo woke,
As to her lowly neighbour, thus,

With proud and haughty mien, she spoke:
"Away! frail trembling flower! nor dare
To droop beside my glittering form!
Behold how bright my garments are,
And mark each sweetly varying charm!
"Then hie thee to some lonely nook,
Nor show thy pallid features here;
Go, murmur to some babbling brook,
Where like thyself each scene is drear!
"Hast thou assurance thus to gaze
On one who nature's self beguiles?
Hence! haste thee hence! and hide that face,
Where parent nature never smiles."
She ceased-a sad, sweet whispering rose,
Which thrill'd the zephyrs list'ning ear;

Soft as an angel's gentlest tone,
Too heavenly for this mortal sphere.

"T was the pale lily's silvery voice,
Which rose in low and thrilling tone,
Like breath of wild Eolian lyre,

Moved by the wind-god's tenderest moan"Great queen!" the lovely gem replied, "I view thy charms, I own their power, And void of envy, shame, or pride, Admire thy beauties of an hour. "Full well I know my pallid brow

Can never match the hues of thine; Nor my white robes the colours wear,

Which on thy dazzling garments shine. "But the same hand hath form'd us both; And heaven-born nature smiled as sweet As on thy form, when the low flower Was peeping from its green retreat.

"Here was I planted! let me here
Still live in purity and peace;
The lily's eye shall never weep
To gain the tulip's gaudy grace.
"But oh, forget not, 'mid the pomp
Of earthly kingdom, pride, and joy,
That boasted beauty must decay,

And withering age thy pleasures cloy.
"Receive the lily's kind advice,-
Retire from scenes of public life,
And pass thy days in solitude,
Apart from vanity and strife."
While the sweet murmur past away,
The stately rose as umpire came;
The lily shunn'd her proud survey,
The lordly tulip bent for shame.
In accents bland, but nobly firm,
The queen-like flow'ret soon replied,
In tones which charm'd the tender flower,
And humbled more the tulip's pride.

"Come hither, pure and lovely one,

With thee no garden plant can vie;
Not e'cn the tulip's gaudy hues
Match with thy stainless, spotless dye.
"Come to my bosom, emblem fair

Of heavenly virtue's fairer form!
Here let me learn each modest grace,
While here I hush each wild alarm.
"Come to my bosom! what so pure,
So lovely as a modest one,
Who flies from folly's glittering lure,
And shuns the bright meridian sun!

"Let the proud tulip glitter still,
Robed in her scarf of varying hue;

Alone 'neath nature's eye we'll rest,

Cheer'd by her smile, and nurtured by her dew."

VERSIFICATION OF THE TWENTY-THIRD PSALM.

My shepherd is the faithful Lord,
I shall not want, I trust his word;
He lays me down in pastures green,
He leads me by the lake serene;
Comforts my soul, and points me on
To pure religion's holy shrine.

1831.

I wander through the vale of death,
Yet he supports me still;
He will receive my dying breath
If I perform his will.

Even in the presence of my foes

He doth a meal of plenty spread;
My cup with blessings overflows,
With oil he does anoint my head.

TO BROTHER L

THE Vessel lightly skims the wave,
And bounds across the waters blue,
Near shores where trees luxuriant spread,
And roses wildly blooming grew.

Yon islands see! so fair and bright,
Like gems upon the azure sea;
The waters dance like forms of light,
And waft my brother dear from me.
1831.

FOR MAMMA.

THE rippling stream serenely glides,
And rising meets the swelling tides;
The fleeting lights of heaven around
Shine brightly o'er the vast profound.

The moon hath hid her silvery face,
So mark'd with beauty and with grace,
Majestic when she rides on high,
A gem upon the azure sky!

My thoughts, oh Lord, then turn to thee,
Of what thou art and I shall be;

Thy outstretch'd wings around me spread, And guard with love my hapless head. 1831.

TO MAMMA.

FAREWELL, dear mother, for awhile
I must resign thy plaintive smile;
May angels watch thy couch of wo,
And joys unceasing round thee flow.

May the almighty Father spread
His sheltering wings above thy head.
It is not long that we must part,
Then cheer thy downcast, drooping heart.