Spare them each mouldering fragment spare

Of God's own image-let them rest,

Till not a trace shall speak of where
The awful likeness was impressed.

For he was fresher from the hand

That formed of earth the human face,
And to the elements did stand

In nearer kindred than our race.

In many a flood to madness tost,
In many a storm has been his path,
He hid him not from heat or frost,

But met them, and defied their wrath.

Then were they kind-the forests here,
Rivers and stiller waters, paid

A tribute to the net and spear

Of the red ruler of the shade.
Fruits on the woodland branches lay,
Roots in the shaded mould below;
The stars looked forth to teach his way,
The still earth warned him of the foe.

A noble race! but they are gone,

With their old forests wide and deep,
And we have built our homes upon
Fields where their generations sleep.
Their fountains slake our thirst at noon,
Upon their hills our harvest waves,

Our lovers woo beneath their moon,

Ah, let us spare at least their graves!

B.

THE TRAVELLER'S RETURN.

I STOOD Upon a pleasant hill, with summer verdure crowned,
And tall old trees, the giant kings of nature, stood around;

A lovely vale before me lay, and on the golden air,

Crept the blue smokes in quiet trains from roofs that clustered there.

I saw where in my early years I passed the pleasant hours,
Beside the winding brook that still went prattling to its flowers;
And still around my parents' home the slender poplars grew,
Whose glossy leaves were swayed and turned by every wind that
blew.

The clover, with its heavy bloom, was tossing in the gale,
And the tall crowfoot's golden stars still sprinkled all the vale,
And the fragrant bloom of orchard-ground, and woodland foliage
nigh,

Broke with their freshest beauty yet, upon my startled eye.

The wild vine, in the woody glen, swung o'er the sounding brook,
And the red robin and the wren chirped gaily in their nook;
I saw the clouds on crimson wings float softly through the sky,
When evening's blush came o'er the hills where beechen forests
lie.

All these are what they were when last these pleasant hills I ranged,

But the faces that I knew before, by time and toil are changed; Where youth and bloom were on the cheek, and gladness on the brow,

I only see the marks of care, and pain, and sorrow now.

J. H. B.

TRANSLATION OF A SCENE IN SCHILLER'S TRAGEDY OF "MARIA STUART."

Mary, Queen of Scots, has been kept for a long time in strict confinement in the castle of Fotheringay. She has at length received permission to quit her apartments, and is here described as walking in the castle grounds with her attendant, Hannah Kennedy.

ΚΕΝ.

You haste, my lady, with such winged speed
I cannot follow, stay your rapid steps.

MARY.

Let me my long-lost freedom greet,
Let childhood's transports rise again,
Forbid me not, with bounding feet
To skim the green enamelled plain.
Have I not 'scaped a prison's gloom?
Have I not risen from the tomb?
O let me use the freedom given
Freely to drink the air of heaven.

KEN. Your liberty is but a lengthened chain,
These spreading boughs conceal the castle wall,
But not less truly doth it gird us round.

MARY. My blessings on their friendly screen,
Which hides my prison's hated wall;

KEN.

My soul revives amid their living green;
Why should thy voice my parted grief recall?
Doth not my eye gaze freely round,

With nought but heaven its view to bound?

There, where the mountains mingle with the sky,
My own loved Scotland meets my glance;
Those joyous bands of clouds that southward fly,
Seek the sweet shores of distant France.

Ships of the air that sail the sky,
Could man your trackless voyage try?
Salute for me my youthful home,
In vain my limbs would thither roam.
None near me dare my bidding do,
I have no messengers but you;
Freely you move as ocean's waves,
You are no English tyrant's slaves.

Oh, my dear lady, do not talk thus wildly,

(Aside.) Her long confinement has disturbed her reason.

MARY.

There lies a fisher in his bark,
That little boat might be the ark
Of my deliverance,-bear me o'er
The deep to France's friendly shore.
The master lives by daily toil,
But, would he give me liberty,

His nets should rise from out the sea,
Fraught with a golden, not a scaly spoil.

KEN. Alas, that wish is vain; see all around
Grim-visaged sentinels, who watch our steps;
No friendly creature dares approach our path.

MARY. No, my good Hannah, trust me, not in vain
Our prison portals are at length thrown open;
I see good omens in this little favour.

Lord Leicester loves me. Yes, his powerful hand
Loosens my galling chain, and, day by day,
Less and less closely will it bind my frame,
Till comes at last the hour of perfect freedom.

KEN. The air still vibrates with your dreadful doom, "Prepare your neck to meet the headsman's stroke." Whence then your present liberty? Alas!

MARY.

I fear the riddle has a dreadful import.
Men strike the fetters from the prisoner's limbs,
When they release him from his earthly bondage.

Hear you that sound ring wildly out,
The clear notes of the hunter's horn?
O might I join the mirthful rout,
Once more on bounding courser borne !
Again I hear the merry peals,
Filling my breast with pleasing sadness
Recalling Scotland's heath-clad hills,
And all my former days of gladness.

CRITICAL NOTICES.

Hints for the Improvement of Early Education and Nursery Discipline. Second Salem, from the Fifth London Edition. Salem. James R. Buffum. 1827.

WE have been acquainted with this valuable little book for several years, and would most heartily recommend it to all our readers who are at all interested in the subject. It takes up the child from the dawn of intellect, and carries him through all the gradations of the forming period of life, till those habits and dispositions are fixed, which give an enduring character to the man or woman. The whole work is the manifest result of remarkable good sense, and common sense, no less than of successful experience. In its design, it is less ambitious than that which would mark out for the scholar, the professional man, the statesman, or him who is to engage in any difficult vocation in the busy world, the road to excellence and fame. But though less ambitious, it is by no means less useful. It regards the formation of the moral man primarily; the heart, the temper, the principles; the more amiable, as well as the bolder virtues. Now if we are duly aware how much early discipline, nursery discipline even, has to do with all this, we shall readily perceive that the author begins at the very foundation, with that alone which can make talents of any value in man or woman either; with that which is to put in training minds and dispositions which are to act the dispositions and minds of others; and thus extend their beneficent sway to each succeeding generation.

If we should seem to have written these few remarks too much in the style of unqualified panegyric, we have only to say, it is because we have found no occasion for exception in the book before us, and would merely add, that we have expressed ourselves strongly concerning it, from the full conviction that it is calculated to produce extensive good, and from our belief that there is no work of the same kind, which has equal claims to a place in every family library.