The aged folks; upon the inverted quern Listening with partial well-pleased look, she gazed And view in mute despair the boat recede. TO MY SON. Twice has the sun commenced his annual round, Since first thy footsteps totter'd o'er the ground, Since first thy tongue was tuned to bless mine ear, By faltering out the name to fathers dear. But, far and farther still my view I bend,— Then lifting him, while tears suffuse thine eyes, Pointing, thou tell st him, There thy grandsire lies! THE WILD DUCK AND HER BROOD. How calm that little lake! no breath of wind THE POOR MAN'S FUNERAL. Yon motely, sable-suited throng, that wait Around the poor man's door, announce a tale Of woe; the husband, parent, is no more. Contending with disease, he labour'd long, By penury compell'd; yielding at last, He laid him down to die; but, lingering on From day to day, he from his sick-bed saw, Heart-broken quite, his children's looks of want Veil'd in a clouded smile: alas! he heard The elder lispingly attempt to still The younger's plaint,--languid he raised his head, And thought he yet could toil, but sunk Into the arms of Death, the poor man's friend! The coffin is borne out; the humble pomp Moves slowly on; the orphan mourner's hand (Poor helpless child!) just reaches to the pall. And now they pass into the field of graves, And now around the narrow house they stand, And view the plain black board sink from the sight. Hollow the mansion of the dead resounde, Woe's me! those tear-dimm'd eyes, that sobbing breast! Poor child! thou thinkest of the kindly hand That wont to lead thee home. No more that hand Shall aid thy feeble gait, or gently stroke And melt a heart that else will break with grief. TO A REDBREAST THAT FLEW IN From snowy plains and icy sprays, Perch on my lute's remaining string, No more now, at my lonely meal, and other young titled gentlemen were inmates of her mansion, writes to us in the highest terms of the beauty and accomplishments of "the Lady Stewart-for she was a lady per se." Professor Thomas Brown, the eminent successor of her distinguished husband, addressed the beautiful lines to her entitled "The Nondescript." Mrs. S. also inspired the pastoral song of "Afton Water" by Burns. MRS. DUGALD STEWART, the second wife of the celebrated professor of moral philosophy in the University of Edinburgh, was born in the year 1765. Her maiden name was Helen D'Arcy Cranstoun, third daughter of the Hon. George Cranstoun, youngest son of William, fifth Lord Cranstoun. She became the wife of Dugald Stewart-a benevolent, upright, and liberal man of undoubted talent-one of the most polished writers of his day, and as fascinating a teacher as ever occupied a university chair-lished in Johnson's Musical Museum. The July 26, 1790. Having survived her distinguished husband ten years, she died at Warriston House, in the neighbourhood of Edinburgh, July 28, 1838. Mrs. Stewart was a sister of the celebrated Countess Purgstall, the subject of Capt. Basil Hall's Schloss Hainfeld. Hew Ainslie, the venerable Scottish poet, who lived under her roof while Lord Palmerston | Both of the subjoined songs were first pub second was adapted to an air by John Barret, an old English composer, called "lanthe the Lovely." The same air was also selected by Gay for one of his songs in The Beggar's Opera. The first four lines of the last stanza were written by Robert Burns, as he said to Thomson "to complete it;" the music requiring double verses. RETURNING SPRING, WITH GLADSOME RAY. Returning spring, with gladsome ray, Adorns the earth and smooths the deep: All nature smiles, serene and gay, It smiles, and yet, alas! I weep. But why, why flows the sudden tear, Since Heaven such precious boons has lent, The lives of those who life endear, And, though scarce competence, content? Sure, when no other bliss was mine Than that which still kind Heaven bestows. Yet then could peace and hope combine To promise joy and give repose. Then have I wander'd o'er the plain, And blessed each flower that met my view: Thought Fancy's power would ever reign, And Nature's charms be ever new. I fondly thought where Virtue dwelt Enchanting dreams! kind was your art 'Twas sadness sweeter still than joy. Oh! whence the change that now alarms, Fills this sad heart and tearful eye, And conquers the once powerful charms Of youth, of hope, of novelty? 'Tis sad Experience, fatal power! That clouds the once illumined sky, That darkens life's meridian hour, And bids each fairy vision fly. She paints the scene-how different far From that which youthful fancy drew! Shows joy and freedom oft at war, Our woes increased, our comforts few. See in her train cold Foresight move, The glowing tints of Fancy fade, THE TEARS I SHED MUST EVER FALL.1 The tears I shed must ever fall! I weep not for an absent swain, For time may happier hours recall, And parted lovers meet again. I weep not for the silent dead. Their pains are past, their sorrows o'er, And those they loved their steps shall tread, And death shall join to part no more. Though boundless oceans roll between, E'en when by death's cold hand removed, Of her who slighted love bewails; Hers are the pangs of wounded pride, The flame of love burns to destroy. In vain does memory renew The hours once tinged in transport's dye; The sad reverse soon starts to view, And turns the past to agony. 1 Scott made use of two stanzas of this song, which has been called "The Song of Genius," as a motto for a chapter of The Talisman, with the addition of the following lines-his own composition: "But worse than absence, worse than death, She wept her lover's sullied fame, And, fired with all the pride of birth, She wept a soldier's injured name."-Ed. E'en time itself despairs to cure Those pangs to every feeling due: Ungenerous youth! thy boast how poor, To win a heart-and break it too' No cold approach, no alter'd mien, No pause the dire extremes between, He made me blest-and broke my heart ALEXANDER WILSON. BORN 1766-DIED 1813. "If the pedlar should fail to be favoured with sale, Then I hope you'll encourage the poet." The book was published in July of the year following, and the author again made his rounds to deliver copies to the few subscribers he had obtained, and to sell to those who were not. Unsuccessful both as pedlar and poet. he returned to the loom at Paisley. His aspirations for poetical distinction were not how ALEXANDER WILSON, the first to claim and | Scotland, digressing from his route to visit win the proud title of the American Ornitholo- places of literary or romantic interest. In gist, was born July 6, 1766, at Paisley, a place 1789 he added to his other commodities a that has been so prolific of poets. His father prospectus of a volume of poems, trusting, as carried on a small distillery, and early destined he said, his son for a minister of the gospel, but his wife's death when Alexander was ten years of age, and his re-marriage not long after, probably prevented the carrying out of the plan. The boy, whose mind was by his father's careful superintendence imbued with a love of nature and a passion for books, attributed in after life all his success to these facts: "The publication of my Ornithology, though it has swallowed up all the little I had saved, has procured me the honour of many friends, emi-ever subdued. Hearing of a proposed discussion nent in this country, and the esteem of the at an Edinburgh debating society, composed public at large; for which I have to thank the of the city literati, as to "whether have the goodness of a kind father, whose attention to exertions of Allan Ramsay or Robert Fergusson my education in early life, as well as the books done more honour to Scottish poetry?" he borthen put into my hands, first gave my mind a rowed the poems of the latter poet, and, by bias towards relishing the paths of literature doubling his labours with the obnoxious shuttle, and the charms and magnificence of nature. procured the means of defraying his travelThese, it is true, particularly the latter, haveling expenses to Edinburgh. Arriving there made me a wanderer in life: but they have in season for the debate in the Forum, he realso enabled me to support an honest and re-peated a poem which he had prepared entitled spectable situation in the world, and have been the sources of almost all my enjoyments." Thus wrote the grateful poet in a letter dated February, 1811. Alexander was brought up to the trade of a weaver, but afterwards preferred that of a pedlar, as an occupation much more appropriate for a "mortal with legs." Three years of his life were employed in this manner, during which period he visited various portions of "The Laurel Disputed." The audience did not agree with him in his preference of Fergusson, but the merits of the performance gained him many friends-among others, Dr. Anderson, for whose periodical of the Bee he became a contributor. In 1792 he issued anonymously his best poem, "Watty and Meg," one hundred thousand copies being sold in a few weeks. The author was much gratified with its great suc cess, clemency of the reader," relates the following:"In one of my late visits to a friend in the country, I found their youngest son, a fine boy of eight or nine years of age, who usually resides in town for his education, just returning from a ramble through the neighbouring woods and fields, where he had collected a large and very handsome bunch of wild flowers, of a great many different colours, and, presenting them to his mother, said, 'Look, my dear mamma, what beautiful flowers I have found but still more by hearing it attributed to Burns, for whom he entertained the highest regard. A personal satire, entitled "The Shark, or Long Mills Detected," and a not very wise admiration of the principles of equality disseminated at the time of the French Revolution, drove Wilson to the United States. He landed at Newcastle, Delaware, July 14, 1794. During the voyage he had slept on deck, and when he landed his finances consisted only of a few shillings, yet with a cheerful heart he walked to Philadelphia, a distance of thirty-growing on our place! Why, all the woods are three miles, shooting a red-headed woodpecker on the way, the commencement of his ornithological pursuits. For a time he worked at copperplate printing, but returned to his former vocation of weaving and peddling. In 1794 he commenced school-keeping, a profession which he has celebrated in one of his poems, and was successively employed in this vocation at Frankford and other places. In 1801 he accepted a position in a seminary on the river Schuylkill near Philadelphia, where he formed the acquaintance of William Bartram, the naturalist, and Alexander Lawson, an engraver, who initiated him in the art of etching, colouring, and engraving. He very soon began the study of ornithology, with which he became so deeply interested, that he projected a work, with drawings of all the birds of the United States. In 1804 Wilson, accompanied by two friends, made a pedestrian tour to Niagara Falls, and on his return he published a poetical narrative of his journey, entitled "The Foresters." Disappointed in obtaining pecuniary assistance from President Jefferson, also in failing to obtain the co-operation of his friend Lawson, he yet persevered in the preparation of his magnum opus. In 1806 he obtained employment as assistanteditor of a new edition of Rees' Cyclopædia, by Samuel Bradford, bookseller, of Philadelphia, who gave him a liberal salary, and what delighted Wilson still more, undertook the publication of his Ornithology. In September, 1808, the first volume was issued, and obtained a wide circulation, as well as the highest praise from the press. It excelled in its illustrations any work that had appeared up to that time in the country, and exhibited descriptive powers of a high order. By way of preface the poet, "to invoke the full of them, red, orange, and blue, and 'most every colour. Oh! I can gather you a whole parcel of them, much handsomer than these, all growing in our woods! Shall I, mamma? Shall I go and bring you more?' The good woman received the bunch of flowers with a smile of affectionate complacency; and, after admiring for some time the beautiful simplicity of nature, gave her willing consent, and the little fellow went off on the wings of ecstasy to execute his delightful commission. "The similarity of the little boy's enthusiasm to my own struck me, and the reader will need no explanations of mine to make the application. Should my country receive with the same gracious indulgence the specimens which I here humbly present her; should she express a desire for me to go and bring her more, the highest wishes of my ambition will be gratified; for, in the language of my little friend, our whole woods are full of them, and I can collect hundreds more, much handsomer than these!" I need hardly add that the ambition of the author was fully gratified. Volume ii. appeared in 1810, others followed quickly, and in the early part of 1813 the seventh was published. Wilson's anxiety to complete his work led him to deprive himself of his necessary rest, and the unavoidable result was impaired health. Friends remonstrated, but with no avail. “Life is short," said he, "and without exertion nothing can be performed." In his last letter he says, "I am myself far from being in good health. Intense application to study has hurt me much. My eighth volume is now in press, and will be published in November. One volume more will complete the whole." While his health was thus impaired he one day noticed a bird of some rare species of which he had long been in search, and, snatching his gun, ran out |