LOVE OF HOME. HERE is a land, of every land the pride, Beloved by heaven o'er all the world beside; Where brighter suns dis pense serener light, And milder moons emparadise the night; A land of beauty, virtue, valor, Time-tutor'd age, and love-exalted The wandering mariner, whose eye explores The wealthiest isles, the most en- Views not a realm so bountiful and fair, In every clime the magnet of his soul, Touch'd by remembrance, trembles to that pole! Where shall that land, that spot of earth be found? An exile from home, splendor dazzles in vain. a JOHN HOWARD PAYNE. HEAVEN ON EARTH. ND has the earth lost its so spacious round, All that my God can give me or remove, We might resign all mundane care and strife; THOMAS HOOD. IF THOU WERT BY MY SIDE, MY LOVE F thou wert by my side, my love, I miss thee, when, by Gunga's stream, But most beneath the lamp's pale beam But when at morn and eve the star I feel, though thou art distant far, Then on, then on, where duty leads! That course nor Delhi's kingly gates, For sweet the bliss us both awaits Thy towers, Bombay, gleam bright, they say, But ne'er were hearts so light and gay REGINALD HEBEK. At length his lonely cot appears in view, Th' expectant wee-things, toddlin stacher thro', His clane hearth-stane, his thriftie wifie's smile, The lisping infant prattling on his knee, Does all his weary carking cares beguile, An' makes him quite forget his labor an' his toil. Wi' joy unfeign'd brothers and sisters meet, An' each for other's welfare kindly spiers: Their master's an' their mistress's command, And mind your duty, duly, morn and night! But, hark! a rap comes gently to the door; To do some errands, and convoy her hame. Sparkle in Jenny's e'e, and flush her cheek; Wi' heart-struck anxious care, inquires his name, While Jenny hafflins is afraid to speak; Weel pleas'd the mother hears, it's nae wild worthless rake. Wi' kindly welcome Jenny brings him ben; A strappan youth; he takes the mother's eye; Blythe Jenny sees the visit's no ill ta'en; The father cracks of horses, pleughs, and kye. The youngster's artless heart o'erflows wi' joy, But, blate and laithfu'. scarce can weel behave; The woman, wi' a woman's wiles, can spy What makes the youth sae bashfu' an' sae grave; Weel pleas'd to think her bairn's respected like the lave. O happy love! where love like this is found! O heart-felt raptures! bliss beyond compare! I've paced much this weary, mortal round, And sage experience bids me this declare"If Heav'n a draught of heav'nly pleasure spare, One cordial in this melancholy vale, 'Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair, In other's arms breathe out the tender tale, Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents ne ev’mag gale!" But now the supper crowns their simple board, That 'yont the hallan snugly chows her cood; To grace the lad, her weel-hain'd kebbuck, fell, The frugal wifie, garrulous, will tell They, round the ingle, form a circle wide; The big ha'-Bible, ance his father's pride: His bonnet rev'rently is laid aside, His lyart haffets wearing thin an' bare; They chant their artless notes in simple guise ; They never sought in vain that sought the Lord aright!" Nae unison hae they with our Creator's praise. The priest-like father reads the sacred page, How Abram was the friend of God on high; Or Moses bade eternal warfare wage With Amalek's ungracious progeny; Or how the royal Bard did groaning lie Beneath the stroke of Heaven's avenging ire: Or Job's pathetic plaint, and wailing cry; Or rapt Isaiah's wild, seraphic fire; Or other holy seers that tune the sacred lyre. Perhaps the Christian volume is the theme, How guiltless blood for guilty man was shed; How He, who bore in Heaven the second name, Had not on earth whereon to lay his head: How his first followers and servants sped; The precepts sage they wrote to many a land: How He, who lone in Patmos banished, Saw in the sun a mighty angel stand; O Scotia! my dear, my native soil! For whom my warmest wish to Heaven is sent! Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content! And, oh, may Heaven their simple lives prevent From luxury's contagion, weak and vile! Then, howe'er crowns and coronets be rent, A virtuous populace may rise the while, And stand a wall of fire around their much-lov'd isle, O Thou! who pour'd the patriotic tide That stream'd thro' Wallace's undaunted heart; Who dar'd to nobly stem tyrannic pride, Or nobly die, the second glorious part, (The patriot's God, peculiarly Thou art, His friend, inspirer, guardian, and reward!) O never, never Scotia's realm desert; But still the patriot, and the patriot-bard, And heard great Babylon's doom pronounced by In bright succession raise, her ornament and guard! Heaven's command. Then kneeling down, to Heaven's Eternal King, No more to sigh, or shed the bitter tear In such society, yet still more dear; While circling time moves round in an eternal sphere. Compar'd with this, how poor religion's pride, In all the pomp of method, and of art, When men display to congregations wide Devotion's ev'ry grace, except the heart! The Power, incens'd, the pageant will desert, The pompous strain, the sacerdotal stole ; But haply, in some cottage far apart, May hear, well pleased, the language of the soul; And in his book of life the inmates poor enrol. Then homeward all take off their sev'ral way; The parent-pair their secret homage pay, For them and for their little ones provide; The cottage leaves the palace far behind; What is a lordling's pomp? a cumbrous load, Disguising oft the wretch of human kind, Studied in arts of hell, in wickedness refin'd! B a ROBERT BURNS. THE HAPPIEST SPOT. UT where to find that happiest spot below, FRIENDLINESS OF A FIRE. FIRE'S a good companionable friend, A comfortable friend, who meets your face As pleasant as a palace. Are you cold? MARY HOWITZ, |