Poetry.

All me ! how dull , hew lifeless , cold , and dead , [ win- , With sullen step I take my homeward To threw me down upon mv chi-trle sbid , And dream of thee , sweet youth , till dawn of day ! For thou art dead 1 Gone to-. hy t ' eaih-b ? d , AI ! under the willow tree .

ON A SWALLOWS NEST , WHICH FELL FROM THE AUTHOii ' S WINDOW . WRITTEN BY THE SAME . AH , cruel fate ! to wreak thy rage , Coud'sr thou aspare a mither ' s age ? A poor auld swallow cry'd . Fou mony a weary day it took

To big my nestie i' thk nook , Thou ' st dung it a' abraid : Yet weep not sa ? deep not , We've a' our ills allot it ; In grief then be brief then , And think nae mairabout it . Waes me ! how oft the lot of man To work and : oil wi' hibour'd hand ,

While Hope sits smiling blisses ; Till Fate unseen , like flash o' pouther Comes glenting o'er ahint his shouther , Dings a' the wark to pieces . Like thee , then , we be then , Subject to Fortune ' s crosses : Yet strive we to thrive we , And pocket up our losses . But oh ! she saw her helpless weans

Xae shiv'ring on the cauld bleak stanes , Shrink frae the bitter blast ; Herchitt ' ring wings wi' sorrow drocpit , As o ' er her bairns the mither sloopit , And tears ran trickling fast . Nor wings now , nor sings now , About the barn-door skimming ;

But lifeless and strifeless , She welcomes death a' coming . I took ae wee thing cauld as ice , The wee thing look'd me in the face , I found its heart still beating-Its silly weam frae feathers bare , Cou'd ill abide the biting air—I cou'd nakeep frae greeting . The wreck a' the feck a '

, Lay onthe stanes together ; All hopeless and helpless Beside the mournfu' mither . Yet inony a mither , weel as thee , Maun hae her poor bitbivirnies die , Without a mutier'd dirge ; And cauld as clav , she kens na where , Are huddl'd frae Ihechillyair ,

• Perhaps beneath the surge ! A tear then , a . » d cheer then , We a' maun follow soon ; Nor late ihe . i the fate then Of luitheranc : of son . Come , let ns dry our griefs away , We'll live and laugh some other day , Where fortune cannot hit us ; Talk of lhe ( liraiv art ills and huffs Ths-spor' ot Pride , the scorn , and cuffs Which blackguard . rale threw at us ; I

Nor tear m-w , b t cheer now , Tliv children are no more ! Ye'll meet them , and greet them , On Hedv ' n ' s happj shore .

A FREEMASON'S SONG . GREAT Jupiter took it one day in iiis head To send forth a me .-senger , as it is said , To search every place , and to strictly enquire Where -, he Gqddess Fidelity chose to retire . Nimble Mercurystraiht as a

, g messenger dre » t , A punctual obedience to orders exprest ; . Ancl promis'd great Jove he would certainl y find [ kind . Where she ivas , ifwith deities , orwith man-Then down flew the God to fam'd Cythera ' s grove [ of Love ; In hopes of some news from the young God

Who at first could not tell how to make a reply , [ kvlie . But at last told the truth , tho' accustom'd I ' m ignorant , faith , says the little arch urchin , [ in ; What place for Fidelity you must go search But am vastly surpris e d you shou'd think here to find her , [ mind her . When you know that my mother and I never This answer not suiting at all to his taste , Away then to Hymen does Mercury haste ;

but what ignorance here did he shew of mankind , To imagine Fidelity there he should find . Again disappointed , he made no long stay , But with all expedition continu'd his way : Yet thought that , perhaps it niight answer his ends , If enquiry hemadeoflheGoddess ofFriends .

But vain were his hopes in his search here likewise , [ hereyes : For his hostess thus answer'd with tears in c Alas ! honest friend , this goddess so dear , For whom you enquire , is seldom seen here . In one only place you can find her on earth , So hasten away to the sons of lrue mirth , To a Lodge of Freemasons immediate repair , [ with her there . And no manner of doubt but you'll meet Deny Doivn .

LUCKLESS JEAN . WHEK War's shrill trumpet ca'tl to arms , And Britain bade fair Freedom yield , Young Colin , won by l ocus al , > mis , Fled far 10 seek the tented field : My heart was laith to bid adieu , And aft the tears stole frae my een !

Three times he cry'd , ' Sweet lass , be true , ' Syne tore himself frae luckless Jean . Blithe Spring awakes the tuneful groves , Andgowans deck the meadows gay ; While Jean , unpitied , lonely roves , i And thinks of him that's far away 1