Published by William Rickering. Chancery Lane, London Sept. 1829.

THE NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY

ASTOR, LENOX AND TILDEN FOUNDATIONS.

Beneath those brows so sweetly blended,

So soft, so delicately ended,
The border of her eyelids fringe
With lashes of a darker tinge:
But oh, at last, her eyes inspire
With radiance of a real fire;
Like Pallas', of azure bright,
Like Venus', of dewy light.
Delineate now her cheeks and nose,
And mix the lily with the rose.
Now draw her lips' persuasive charm
With eloquent enticement warm ;
And all beneath her downy chin,
And her neck's alabaster skin,
Let beauty with her train resort,
And all the loves and graces sport:
And now invest the mimic whole
With softer shade of purple stole :
But let the robe which loosely flows
The form's best symmetry disclose.
Enough :-I view the maid I seek;
Soon shall the canvass learn to speak.

THE RETURN.

BY THE AUTHOR OF ""

OBSTINACY."

"Man, through all ages of revolving time,
Unchanging man, in every varying clime,
Deems his own land of every land the pride,
Beloved by Heaven o'er all the world beside;
His home, the spot on earth supremely bless'd,
A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest.”

MONTGOMERY.

AFTER eighteen years' residence beneath a tropical sky I returned to the British isles, an altered, if not an aged man. Time and experience had mellowed or obscured many of the bright visions of my youth. One feeling, however, still glowed with undiminished warmth in my bosom—the love of home, of the heath-covered hills, and romantic glens of my native Yarrow. True, the ancestral lands of my family had passed into the hands of strangers; and my only surviving brother, in the exercise of an honourable profession, was a resident in the northern metropolis.

Nevertheless I longed to visit the haunts of my childhood, were it only as a stranger; and, hastily concluding some necessary arrangements in London, I threw myself into the mail, and soon approached the point of my destination. Quitting the coach on reaching Selkirk, I set out, after one night's rest, on my pilgrimage.

It was a beautiful morning, towards the end of June; the waters of the Yarrow sparkled gaily in the bright summer sun, as they flowed gurgling along with a music of their own; the joyous matin song of the birds rose from every bush and tree; the laverock soared high in the air; the lambkins frisked round their dams on the sides of the steep hills; the herds lowed in the sequestered hopes or valleys at their base; and a light and joyous beauty pervaded all nature. Yet my heart was sad: I thought of the parents who were now no more; of the brothers, and a friend still dearer than a brother, who slept in the silent tomb. Many also of the associates of my schoolboy pastimes were scattered over distant lands, where, doubtless, not a few of them had found an early grave. The peerless maiden of my boyish fancy, my constant partner in the greensward dance, she who se presence brightened all my youthful joys, had, on attaining to maturity, bestowed her hand and heart on another; strangers occupied my natal dwelling,