There all is cheerful, calm, and fair,
Wrath, Malice, Envy, Strife, or Pride,
Hath never made its hated lair,

By thee-my own Fireside!

Thy precints are a charmed ring,

Where no harsh feeling dares intrude; Where life's vexations lose their sting; Where even grief is half subdued: And Peace, the halcyon, loves to brood. Then, let the pamper'd fool deride, I'll pay my debt of gratitude

To thee-my own Fireside!

Shrine of my household deities!

Fair scene of my home's unsullied joys! To thee my burthen'd spirit flies,

When fortune frowns, or care annoys :

Thine is the bliss that never cloys;

The smile whose truth hath oft been tried;
What, then, are this world's tinsel toys
To thee-my own Fireside!

Oh, may the yearnings, fond and sweet,
That bid my thoughts be all of thee,
Thus ever guide my wandering feet
To thy heart-soothing sanctuary!
Whate'er my future years may be;
Let joy or grief my fate betide;
Be still an Eden bright to me,
My own-MY OWN FIRESIDE!

A. WATTS.

A HAPPY COUNTRY DWELLING. Low was our pretty cot: our tallest rose Peep'd at the chamber-window. We could hear At silent noon, and eve, and early morn, The sea's faint murmur. In the open air Our myrtles blossom'd; and across the porch Thick jasmins twined; the little landscape round Was green and woody, and refresh'd the eye. It was a spot which you might aptly call The Valley of Seclusion! Once I saw (Hallowing his sabbath-day by quietness) A wealthy son of commerce saunter by, Bristowa's citizen: methought, it calm'd His thirst of idle gold, and made him muse With wiser feelings: for he paused, and look'd With a pleased sadness, and he gazed all around. Then eyed our cottage, and gazed round again, And sigh'd, and said, it was a blessed place. And we were blessed. Oft with patient ear Long-listening to the viewless sky-lark's note (Viewless, or haply for a moment seen Gleaming on sunny wing) in whisper'd tones, I've said to my beloved, "Such, sweet girl! The unobtrusive song of happiness,

Unearthly minstrelsy! then only heard

When the soul seeks to hear; when all is hush'd, And the heart listens!"

COLERIDGE.

THE HAPPY PARENTS.

MEANTIME a smiling offspring rises round,
And mingles both their graces. By degrees

The human blossom blows: and every day,
Soft as it rolls along, shows some new charm,
The father's lustre, and the mother's bloom.
Then infant reason grows apace, and calls
For the kind hand of an assiduous care.
Delightful task? to rear the tender thought,
To teach the young idea how to shoot,
To pour the fresh instruction o'er the mind,
To breathe th' enlivening spirit, and to fix
The generous purpose in the glowing breast.
Oh speak the joy! ye whom the sudden tear
Surprises often, while you look around,

And nothing strikes your eye but sights of bliss;
All various nature pressing on the heart:
An elegant sufficiency, content,

Retirement, rural quiet, friendship, books,
Ease and alternate labour, useful life,
Progressive virtue, and approving Heaven.
These are the matchless joys of virtuous love:
And thus their moments fly. The seasons thus,
As ceaseless round a jarring world they roll,
Still find them happy; and consenting Spring
Sheds her own rosy garland on their heads:
Till evening comes at last, serene and mild;
When, after the long vernal day of life,
Enamour'd more, as more resemblance swells
With many a proof of recollected love,
Together down they sink in social sleep;
Together freed, their gentle spirits fly

To scenes where love and bliss immortal reign.

THOMSON.

THE HOMES OF ENGLAND.

THE stately Homes of England,

How beautiful they stand,
Amidst their tall ancestral trees,
O'er all the pleasant land!

The deer across their greensward bound
Through shade and sunny gleam;

And the swan glides past them with the sound
Of some rejoicing stream.

The merry Homes of England!

Around their hearths by night,

What gladsome looks of household love
Meet in the ruddy light!

There woman's voice flows forth in song,
Or childhood's tale is told;
Or lips move tunefully along
Some glorious page of old.
The blessed Homes of England!
How softly on their bowers
Is laid the holy quietness

That breathes from sabbath-hours!
Solemn, yet sweet, the church-bell's chime

Floats through their woods at morn;

All other sounds, in that still time,
Of breeze and leaf are born.

The Cottage-Homes of England!
By thousands, on her plains,
They are smiling o'er the silvery brooks,
And round the hamlet-fanes.
Through glowing orchards forth they peep,
Each from its nook of leaves,
And fearless there they lowly sleep,
As the bird beneath their eaves.

The free, fair Homes of England!

Long, long, in hut and hall,

May hearts of native proof be rear'd,

To guard each hallow'd wall!

And green for ever be the groves,

And bright the flowery sod,

Where first the child's glad spirit loves

Its Country and its God!

MRS. HEMANS.

FAMILY WORSHIP.

THE cheerfu' supper done, wi' serious face,
They, round the ingle, form a circle wide;
The sire turns o'er, wi' patriarchal grace,
The big Ha-Bible, ance his father's pride;
His bonnet rev'rently is laid aside,

His lyart haffets wearin thin an' bare Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide,

He wales a portion with judicious care; [air. And "Let us worship God!" he says, with solemn They chant their artless notes in simple guise;

They tune their hearts, by far the noblest aim: Perhaps Dundee's wild warbling measures rise, Or plaintive Martyrs, worthy of the name: Or noble Elgin beets the heavenward flame; The sweetest far of Scotia's holy laws: Compared with these, Italian trills are tame;

The tickled ears no heart-felt rapture raise; 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;