Yet, still, amid the ruin may we trace Full testimonial of its former grace:

Though on the floor, erst now

"the

presence strew'd"

The busy partlet leads her cackling brood,

Still we behold the oaken roof on high

In all the pride of gothic majesty !
As virtue by adversity is prov'd,

And midst the storms of fate exists unmoved ;
So, in the mould'ring ruin oft appears
The chiefest beauty of its early years.
Although its gilded pride no more remain
Proportion's beauty it may still retain:
Nay; partial ruin may each charm enhance,
And bring to light such forms of elegance,
As in the perfect state were ne'er reveal'd→
By meretricious ornament conceal'd.

Thus Wolsey, as in history's page we scan, When fall'n a prelate-rose the better man : From regal state, and outward greatness hurl'd, He learn'd to scorn the "glories of the world:" Then o'er his faults his virtues proudly peer'd, And as a ruin his true worth appear'd!

WILMOT WARWICK.

SONNET.

AMID the burning stars of night I saw
A brighter glory-for thy spirit shone
Through the clear heavens all beautiful, alone,
And fill'd my heart with rapture and with awe.
I heard thy voice-blest who their Maker's law
Within their inmost soul in peace enthrone,
For this celestial world is all their own;
No earthly gaud hath ever power to draw
Downward their brighter gaze-Oh! be thou one!
Thou whom I lov'd upon that lower scene,
Soar up and join me!-dark clouds swept between—
The stars were veil'd-the radiant light was gone-
Yet, Angel Spirit! when earth's shadows flee,
On hope's immortal wing I trust to follow thee!

T. E. R.

ON THE

DEATH OF A BEAUTIFUL GIRL.

FROM THE FRENCH.

AND is she gone, that was so bright?
And will she never glad my sight
Again?-'tis well-she was too pure
To dwell on earth, and Heaven, sure,
In mercy took her early hence,
E'en in her virgin innocence.

A rose too frail, too form'd for love,
To bear misfortune's cruel blast,
She sank at once;-'twas instant past,
And the fair flower now blooms above!

F. E. de C.

R