The whole green-house is smashed by the hail,
And the plants have all died in the night;
The magnolia's blown down by the gale,
And the chimney looks far from upright;
And the deuce take the man from the shop,
That hung up the new glass chandelier !—
It has come, in the end, to one drop-
But I wish you a happy New Year!

There's misfortune wherever we dodge-
It's the same in the country and town:
There's the porter has burned down his lodge,
While he went off to smoke at the Crown.
The fat butler makes free with your wine,
And the footman has drunk the strong beer,
And the coachman can't walk in a line-
But I wish you a happy New Year!

Your "Account of a Visit to Rome,"
Not a critic on earth seems to laud;
And old Huggins is lately come home,
And will swear that your Claude isn't Claude;
Your election is far from secure,

Though it's likely to cost very dear;

You're come out in a caricature

But I wish you a happy New Year!

You've been christened an ass in the Times,
And the Chronicle calls you a fool;

And that dealer in boys, Dr. Ghrimes,

Has engaged the next house for a school;

And the play-ground will run by the bow'r
That you took so much trouble to rear;
We shall never have one quiet hour
But I wish you a happy New Year!

Little John will not take to his book,
He's come home black and blue from the cane;
There's your uncle is courting his cook,

And your mother has married again !
Jacob Jones will be tried with his wife,
And against them you'll have to appear;
If they're hung you'll be wretched for life-
But I wish you a happy New Year!

THE WIDOWED MOTHER.

BY JOHN WILSON.

BESIDE her Babe, who sweetly slept,
A widowed Mother sat, and wept
O'er years of love gone by:

And as the sobs thick-gathering came,
She murmured her dead Husband's name
'Mid that sad lullaby.

Well might that lullaby be sad,
For not one single friend she had
On this cold-hearted Earth ;

The sea will not give back its prey -
And they were wrapt in foreign clay
Who gave the Orphan birth.

While thus she sat a sunbeam broke

Into the room;

the Babe awoke,

And from his cradle smiled!

Ah me! what kindling smiles met there I know not whether was more fair,

The Mother or her Child!

With joy fresh-sprung from short alarms,

The smiler stretched his rosy arms,

And to her bosom leapt

All tears at once were swept away, And said a face as bright as day,"Forgive me! that I wept!"

Sufferings there are from Nature sprung, Ear hath not heard, nor Poet's tongue

May venture to declare;

But this as Holy Writ is sure,

"The griefs she bids us here endure

She can herself repair!"

THE SINGING BIRD AT SEA.

BY MISS JEWSBURY

It was a ship from Christendom,
Traversing unknown seas;

Of fair Castile and of Aragon,

The flag that kissed the breeze; Few and poor the mariners were, Voyaging less in hope than fear.

Far behind they had left the land.
The sea spread far before,

And they were sailing to such a strand
None ever had sought of yore:
Their leader was not of high degree,
But one whose mind was mystery.

He did not come from a hermitage,

Yet he prayed with book and bead ; He read the stars like an eastern sage,

And fought in the hour of need ;— Yet the dreams of his spirit were not of war; But of islands hid in the main afar.

Of fair green isles, with treasures vast,
Of spicery and of gold,

Of seas where anchor was never cast,

And hills of height untold;

-

It were a glorious thing to view,

If such bright dreams could now be true!

Fearful of rock and fearful of shoal,

Few were the mates he won;

But he led them along in strength of soul,
Along towards the setting sun,-

Over the deep, where the waves are calın,
And ever the wind is wandering balm.

Over the deep, and over the deep,
By the same soft wind caressed,

The sky above in a spotless sleep,
Around them the waters' breast,

Seven hundred leagues—but the land they sought

Was viewless still as a dream or thought.

Seven hundred leagues, and threescore days
Since the last shore they left;

How sad becomes each mariner's gaze :

Of hope and joy bereft !

How dwelleth now in the heart of each
Madness that cannot be told by speech!