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An antique


Which never fails to moulder or disjoint

The strongest fabric, e'en of stone and lime

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Mark our proud antique fane 1, so bold, sublime!

Edina! 'tis thy boast, and now thy care,

To rectify the ills from age and clime.

Too wise to touch the form of what's so fair,
Or change the Gothic arch for Attic square!


And when thoud'st know the votive choice, elect,

By public voice declar'd, in open day

Let it be given-abjur'd each covert act2;

Which could but breed corruption, fraud and fray,
And every ill which flows from dark dismay.

1 St Giles's Church in Edinburgh. It is now undergoing a thorough repair, and with much good taste. The original Gothic style is preserved in all its purity and beauty. The exact period when this noble building was constructed is not known. It was created into a collegiate church in 1466 by James III.

2 The bad consequences which would certainly ensue, on adopting the ballot in England, in cases of general election, are so evident, that it is wonderful it should for a moment be thought of. Indeed we know few things, which, in our opinion, could sooner tend to demoralise the noblest race in the world, the British community. Promises would ere long be

No there's a Head, on Britain's weal intent,

An honour'd head, and wise, though taunted Grey; Too well aware what genders discontent,

To compromise one upright sentiment.

A Patrician.


So loudly cheer'd by her still loyal sons,
And those are millions-it were vain to quote—
Our country ne'er shall have to point her guns
Against foul tumult, so shall 'scape the blot,
Which is of all the last to be forgot.

Let us, then, live in union spite of them

Who swear the Sister Island loves us not.

given but to be broken; bribes taken for what was never to be performed, and all these mischiefs occur which duplicity too surely engenders. Those who argue from the fact, that no unhappy results follow from ballot being resorted to at clubs, do not perceive how different are the cases. There want of respectability of character is, or ought to be, the only cause of rejection. Hence the most serious effects would frequently be produced by viva voce voting. Now, in a member of Parliament, besides personal worth, talent, discretion, address, and public spirit, are sought after; so that the vote against may be given openly and avowedly, without any moral defect in the individual refused being implied.


The Sister




Assur'd that what's been quaintly styl'd a whim,

Was not inspir'd by saint or seraphim.


Has 'tother lovely sister mourn'd th' embrace
That link'd us all in one, and heal'd those woes
Which border frays would breed, and oft disgrace
Our story's page, so baneful to repose ?

If Scotia mourns at all, she mourns the blows
Division never ceas'd then to renew.

The Tartan'd Queen now joyous feels, and knows,
Whoe'er rude revolutions would eschew,

Must have home concord—nothing else will do.


And concord she enjoys, and well deserves.

Her sons all brave, her daughters good and fair.
When pity claims, has she then cold reserves?

No! but a tear for all. Late, when despair
O'ertook the fallen monarch, where-yes, where

Found he a home, a refuge at command ?

Within thy palace walls, thy courteous care,
He, thanks to the great Sovereign of this land,
Had all kind hearts could give, or friendship's hand!

A Refuge.


Again would Raymond lift his voice to thee,

Thou hapless wanderer in this vale of woe! Spite all thy years of anguish, can it be

That heart still beats-that bosom still doth glow

At which fell horror aim'd her deadliest blow ?

So young, yet so unhappy!-ere the spring

Of thy sad life had flown-behold the snow

Of winter on the daughter of a King!

Oh! that from memory I could take the sting!




A father prison-doom'd, soon doom'd to die

By an infuriate mob; a mother too,

A beauteous mother! rent with agony,

Torn from thy arms by a most brutal crew;

Unparalleled calamity.

Royal vic


A Home.

Not left to fall by sorrow's shafts which flew-
That had been charity-but by the glave,

The very self-same blood-stain'd glave which slew,
And sent that virtuous Monarch to the grave,

Who liv'd a saint, and died the good, the brave!


Yes! still the heart doth beat, the bosom glows
With other warmth than earthly power can give.
Pure from the source whence " living water" flows;
Which our Redeemer said, " Take, drink, and live."
And, could the maddening discord also drive
The widow'd mourner from her regal Dome,

With her two lovely Scions ?-May they thrive.
And grow, and flourish, and long graceful roam,
And find Edina all they sought-a Home!


Tho' adverse winds may rise, and blow they will,

Let us be grateful, and devoutly bear

Yet mindful of the storm; 'twas our's to still,

When Europe cower'd beneath the sword and snare

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