nicely I have fastened it! No clearer mirror than the dark smooth basin of water under those hazels-Come!" He put her hand under his arm and led her thither, and there, when mechanically she cast her eyes on the stream, she saw the rich tuft of meadow-sweet, the identical queen of the meadow, waving like a plume over her own straw bonnet: felt herself caught in Edward's arms, for between surprise and joy she had well nigh fallen; and when with instinctive modesty she escaped from his embrace, and took refuge with her cousin, the first sound that she heard was Sophy's affectionate whisper-I knew it all the time, Katy! Every body knew it but you! and the wedding must be next week, for I have promised Edmund to stay and be bride's-maid."And the very next week they were married.

-

CORINNA AT THE CAPITOL.

BY MRS. HEMANS.

"Les femmes doivent penser qu'il est dans cette carriere bien peu de sorts qui puissent valoir la plus obscure vie d'une femme aimee et d'une mere heureuse."

Madame de Stael.

I.

DAUGHTER of the' Italian heaven!

Thou, to whom its fires are given,
Joyously thy car hath rolled

Where the conqueror's passed of old;

And the festal sun that shone

O'er three hundred triumphs gone,*

Makes thy day of glory bright

With a shower of golden light.

II.

Now thou tread'st the' ascending road

Freedom's foot so proudly trod;

While, from tombs of heroes borne,

From the dust of empire shorn,

The trebly hundred triumphs.---Byron.

Flowers upon thy graceful head,
Chaplets of all hues are shed,
In a soft and rosy rain,

Touched with many a gem-like stain.

III.

Thou hast gained the summit now! Music hails thee from below;-—

Music, whose rich notes might stir
Ashes of the sepulchre ;—
Shaking with victorious notes

All the bright air as it floats.
Well may Woman's heart beat high

Unto that proud harmony!

IV,

Now afar it rolls-it dies,
And thy voice is heard to rise
With a low and lovely tone,
In its thrilling powers alone;
And thy lyre's deep, silvery string,
Touched as by a breeze's wing,
Murmurs tremblingly at first,
Ere the tide of rapture burst.

V.

All the spirit of thy sky

Now hath lit thy large dark eye,

And thy cheek a flush hath caught
From the joy of kindled thought;—
And the burning words of song
From thy lips flow fast and strong,
With a rushing stream's delight
In the freedom of its might.

VI.

Radiant daughter of the sun! Now thy living wreath is won. Crowned of Rome !-oh! art thou Happy in that glorious lot?— Happier, happier far, than thou

With the laurel on thy brow,

She that makes the humblest hearth Lovely but to one on earth!

WRITTEN IN A LADY'S ALBUM.

BY JOHN MALCOLM, ESQ.

I.

As

sweeps the bark before the breeze,
While waters coldly close around,
Till of her pathway through the seas
The track no more is found ;-
Thus, passing down Oblivion's tide,
The beauteous visions of the mind
Fleet as that ocean pageant glide,

And leave no trace behind.

II.

But the pure page may still impart

Some dream of feeling else untold,—

The silent record of a heart,

Even when that heart is cold:
Its lorn memorials here may bloom,

Perchance to gentle bosoms dear,-
Like flowers that linger o'er the tomb,
Bedewed with Beauty's tear.