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Insects. When vernal sun-beams pierce their dark retreat, The heaving tomb diftends with vital heat; The full-form'd brood, impatient of their cell, Start from their trance and burst their filken shell; Trembling awhile they stand, and scarcely dare To launch at once upon the untried air. At length aflur'd, they catch the fav'ring gale, And leave their fordid (poils, and high in æther

fail. Lo! the bright train their radiant wing's unfold, With filver fringed and freckled o'er with gold. On the gay bosom of some fragrant flower They idly flutt'ring live their little hour; Their life all pleasure, and their task all play, All spring their age, and fun-fhine all their day. Not so the child of sorrow, wretched man: His course with toil concludes, with pain began, That his high destiny he might discern, And in misfortune's school this leflon learn, Pleasure's the portion of th' inferior kind; But glory, virtue, Heaven for man defign'd.

What atom forms of insect life appear !
And who can follow Nature's pencil here?

Their wings with azure, green, and purple gloss’d,
Studded with colour'd eyes, with gems emboss'd,
Inlaid with pearl, and mark'd with various stains
Of lively crimson through their dųsky veins.
Some shoot like living stars athwart the night,
And scatter from their wings a vivid light,
To guide the Indian to his tawny loves,
As through the woods with cautious stephe moves.
See the proud giant of the beetle race;
What shining arms his polished limbs enchase !
Like some stern warrior formidably bright
His fleely sides reflect a gleaming light;
On his large forehead spreading horns he wears,
And high in air the branching antlers bears:
O'er many an inch extends his wide domain,
Ang his rich treasury swells with hoarded grain,

MRS. BARBAULD,

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The Frozen Shower.

THE FROZEN SHOWER.

Written at Copenbagen.

ERE yet the clouds let fall the treasur'd fnow,
Or winds began through hazy skies to blow,
At evening a keen eastern breeze arofe,
And the descending rain unsullied froze.
Soon as the Glent shades of night withdrew,
The ruddy morn disclos'd at once to view
The face of nature in a rich disguise,
And brighten'd every object to my eyes :
For every shrub, and every blade of grass,
And every pointed thorn seem'd wrought in glass;
In pearls and rubies rich the hawthorns show,
While through the ice the crimson berries glow.
The thick-sprung reeds, which watery marshes

yield,
Seem polished lances in a hostile field.
The stag in limpid currents, with surprise
Sees crystal branches on his forehead rise:
The spreading oak, the beech, and tow'ring pine,
Glaz’d over, in the freezing æther shine.

The

The frighted birds the rattling branches (hun,
Which wave and glitter in the distant fun.
Then, if a sudden gust of wind arise,
The brittle forest into atoms flies,
The crackling wood beneath the tempeft bends,
And in a spangled shower the prospect ends.

A. PHILLIPS,

FALSE GREATNESS.

Milo, forbear to call him blest
Who only boasts a large estate,
Should all the treasures of the west
Meet, and conspire to make him great!

Let a broad stream with golden sands

Through all his meadows roll, He's but a wretch with all hislands

That wears a narrow soul.

Were I fo tall to reach the pole,
Or grasp the ocean with my span,
I must be measured by my soul:
The mind 's the standard of the man!

WATTS

The Old Man's Comforts.

THE OLD MAN'S COMFORTS, AND HOW

HE GAINED THEM.

» the

" You are old, father William,” young

man cried, 66 The few locks that are left you are gray: You are hale, father William, a hearty old man:

Now tell me the reason, I pray."

“ In the days of my youth," father William re

plied, “ I remember'd that youth would fly fast, And abus'd not my health and my vigour at first,

That I never might need them at last.”

« You are old, father William," the young man

cried, “ And pleasures with youth pass away, And yet you lament not the days that are gone : Now tell me the reason, I pray:"?