Select Poetry.

LOVE-SICK WILLY.

The following, after Hood's style, the author of 'Whims and Oddities,' is from a Yankee Paper :-

One Willy Wright who kept a store,
But nothing kept therein,

Save earthen jugs, and some few kegs,
Of whiskey, ale, and gin,

Grew sick, and often would exclaim,

'Oh, how my heart does burn!' And every week the poor man liv'd— He had a weakly turn.

Now, when they saw him thus decline,

Some said that Death must come ; Some wonder'd what his ail could beSome said his ale was rum.

At last the very cause was known
Of every pang he felt-
Remote, at one end of the town,
Miss Martha Towns-end dwelt.

A portly, love-resisting dame,

Contemptuous, proud, and haughty; But yet, though fat and forty' too, She was not two-and-forty.

And Willy long had sought and sighed,
To gain this pretty maid;
'I have no trade (said he), so sure
My love can't be betray'd.'

To Martha, then, he trembling went,
And said, My dear, 'tis true,
Though I have nothing in my store,
I've love in store for you.

And if thou wilt, thou may'st become-'
And here his tongue was ty'd!
And though she willed, yet she said,
She ne'er would be his bride.

WORK WITHOUT HOPE.

All Nature seems at work. Slugs leave their lair

The bees are stirring-birds are on the wing

And Winter slumbering in the open air, Wears on his smiling face a dream of Spring!

And I, the while, the sole unbusy thing, Nor honey make, nor pair, nor build, nor sing.

Yet well I ken the banks where Amaranths blow,

Have traced the forests where streams of: nectar flow.

Bloom, O ye Amaranths! bloom for whom ye may

For me ye bloom not! Glide, rich streams, away!

With lips unbrightened, wreathless brow, I. stroll:

And would you learn the spell that drowse my soul?

Work without hope draws nectar in a sieve And Hope without an object cannot live. S. T. Coleridge.

THE MOTHER'S LAMENT. The Christmas light is burning bright

In many a village pane;
And many a cottage rings to night
With many a merry strain.
Young boys and girls run laughingly,
Their eyes and hearts elate

I can't but think on mine and sigh,
For I am desolate.

There's none to watch in our old cot,
Besides the holy light;

No tongue to bless the silent spot-
Against the parting night,

I've closed the door-and hither come
To mourn my lonely fate;

I cannot bear my own old home,
It is so desolate!

I saw my father's eyes grow dim,
And clasp'd my mother's knee;
I saw my mother follow him-
My husband wept with me.
My husband did not long remain-
His child was left me yet;

But now my heart's best love is slain,
And I am desolate !

OF

IN

AN English prose translation of this story appeared in Blackwood's Magazine, for May, 1818, (vol. iii. p. 169) under the title of The Tale of Ivan," which was communicated to that publication by Mr. Johnes, of Hafod, the ingenious translator of Froissart. He speaks of it as one of the Mabinogi, or tales for the instruction of youth, and, the only one which he is aware of, as being extant in the Cornish language. The Three Advices, or Points of Doctrine,' given in the Cornish tale, are

Take care not to leave the old road, for the sake of a new road.'

Take care not to lodge where a young woman is married to an old man.'-And, Suffer thyself to be struck twice, before thou strikest once, for that is the most prudent quality of all.' No. 91-N. S.

The common adage of Honesty is the best policy,' was substituted for the last by the Irish narrator, doubtless aware that the original advice inculcated a piece of forbearance, which his countrymen would not readily submit to.

THERE once came, what of late happened so often in Ireland, a hard year.When the crops failed, there was beggary and misfortune from one end of the island to the other. At that time, a great many poor people had to quit the country from want of employment, and through the high price of provisions. Among others, John Carson was under the necessity of going over to England, to try if he could get

work; and of leaving his wife and family behind him, begging for a bite and a sup up and down, and trusting to the charity of all good Christians.

John was a smart young fellow, handy at any work, from the hayfield to the stable, and willing to earn the bread he ate ;-and he was soon engaged by a gentleman. The English are mighty strict upon Irish servants: he was to have twelve guineas a year wages, but the money was not to be paid until the end of the year, and he was to forfeit the entire twelve guineas in the lump, if he misconducted himself in any way, within the twelve months.John Carson was to be sure upon his best behaviour, and conducted himself in every particular so well for the whole time, there was no faulting him, late or early, and the wages were fairly his.

The term of his agreement being expired, he determined on returning home; notwithstanding his master, who had a great regard for him, pressed him to remain, and asked him if he had any reason to be dissatisfied with his treatment.

No reason in life, sir,' said John; 'you've been a good master, and a kind master to me-the Lord spare you over your family: but I left a wife with two small children of my own at home, after me in Ireland, and your honour would never wish to keep me from them entirely.The wife and children !'

'Well, John,' said the gentleman, 'you have earned your twelve guineas, and you have been, in every respect, so good a servant, that, if you are agreeable, I intend giving you what is worth the twelve guineas ten times over, in place of your wages. But you shall have your choice, will you take what I offer, on my word?"

John saw no reason to think that his master was jesting with him, or

was insincere in making the offer; and therefore, after slight consideration, told him, that he agreed to take, as his wages, whatever he would advise, whether it was the twelve guineas or not.

Then listen attentively to my words,' said the gentleman.

'First, I would teach you this'Never to take a bye road, when you have the highway.'

Secondly,-Take heed not to lodge in the house where, an old man is married to a young woman.'

And thirdly,-Remember, that honesty is the best policy.'

'There are the Three Advices I would pay you with; and they are, in value, far beyond any gold; however, here is a guinea for your travelling charges, and two cakes, one of which you must give to your wife, and the other you must not eat yourself, until you have done so, and I charge you to be careful of them.'

It was not without some reluctance on the part of John Carson, that he was brought to accept mere words for wages, or could be persuaded that they were more precious than golden guineas. faith in his master was however so strong, that he at length became satisfied.

His

John set out for Ireland the next morning early; but he had not proceeded far, before he overtook two pedlars, who were travelling the same way. He entered into conversation with them, and soon found them a pair of merry fellows, who proved excellent company on the road.

Now it happened, towards the end of their day's journey, when they were all tired with walking, that they came to a wood, through which there was a path that shortened the distance to the town they were going towards, by two miles. The pedlars advised John to go with

them through the wood-but he refused to leave the highway, telling them, at the same time, he would meet them again at a certain house in the town, where travellers put up. John was willing to try the worth of the advice which his master had given him, and he arrived in safety, and took up his quarters at the appointed place. While he was eating his supper, an old man came hobbling into the kitchen, and gave orders about different matters there, and then went out again. John would have taken no particular notice of this; but, immediately after, a young woman, young enough to be the old man's daughter, came in, and gave orders exactly the contrary of what the old man had given, calling him, at the same time, a great many hard names, such as old fool, and old dotard, and so on.

When she was gone, John inquired who the old man was He is the landlord,' said the servant; 'and heaven help him! a dog's life he has led since he married his last wife.'

"What!' said John, with surprise -'is that young woman the landlord's wife?-I see, I must not remain in this house to-night;' and, tired as he was, he got up to leave it, but went no farther than the door, before he met the two pedlars, all cut and bleeding, coming in, for they had been robbed and almost murdered in the wood.

John was very sorry to see them in that condition, and advised them not to lodge in the house, telling them, with a significant nod, that all was not right there; but the poor pedlars were so weary and so bruised, that they would stop where they were, and disregarded the advice.

Rather than remain in the house, John retired to the stable, and laid himself down on a bundle of straw, where he slept soundly for some

time. About the middle of the night, he heard two persons come into the stable, and, on listening to their conversation, discovered that it was the landlady and a man, laying a plan how to murder her husband.

In the morning, John renewed his journey; but at the next town he came to, he was told that the landlord in the town he had left had been murdered, and that two pedlars, whose clothes were found all covered with blood, had been taken up for the crime, and were going to be hanged. John, without mentioning what he had overheard to any person, determined to save the pedlars, if possible; and so returned, to attend their trial.

On going into the court, he saw the two men at the bar; and the young woman and the man, whose voice he had heard in the stable, swearing their innocent lives away. But the Judge allowed him to give his evidence, and he told every particular of what had occurred. The man and the young woman instantly confessed their guilt; the poor pedlars were at once acquitted; and the Judge ordered a large reward to be paid to John Carson, as thro' his means the real murderers were brought to justice.

John now proceeded towards home, fully convinced of the value of two of the advices which his master had given him. On arriving at his cabin, he found his wife and children rejoicing over a purse full of gold which the eldest boy had picked up on the road that morning. Whilst he was away, they had endured all the miseries which the wretched families of those who go over to seek work in England are exposed to. With precarious food, without a bed to lie down on, or a roof to shelter them, they had wandered through the country, seeking food from door to door of a starving

population and when a single potatoe was bestowed, showering down blessings and thanks on the giver, not in the set phrases of the mendicant, but in a burst of eloquence too fervid not to gush direct from the heart. Those only who have seen a family of such beggars as I describe, can fancy the joy with which the poor woman welcomed her husband back, and told him of the purse full of gold.

And where did Mick find it?' inquired John Carson.

It was the young squire, for certain, who dropped it,' said his wife; for he rode down the road this morning, and was leaping his horse in the very gap where Micky picked it up-but sure, John, he has money enough besides, and never the halfpenny have I to buy my poor childer a bit to eat this blessed night.'

Never mind that,' said John, 'do as I bid you, and take up the purse at once to the big house, and ask for the young squire. I have two cakes which I brought every step of the way with me from England, and they will do for the children's supper. I ought surely to remember, as good right I have, what my master told me for my twelve months' wages, seeing I never, as yet, found what he said to be wrong.'

And what did he say?' inquired his wife.

'That honesty is the best policy,' answered John.

''Tis very well, and 'tis mighty easy for them to say so that have never been sore tempted, by distress and famine, to say otherwise but your bidding is enough for me, John.'

Straightways she went to the big house, and inquired for the young squire; but she was denied the liberty to speak to him.

You must tell me your business,

honest woman,' said a servant, with a head all powdered and frizzled like a cauliflower, and who had on a coat covered with gold and silver lace and buttons, and every thing in the world.

If you knew but all,' said she, I am an bonest woman, for I've brought a purse full of gold to the young master, that my little boy picked up by the road side; for surely it is his, as nobody else could have so much money.

'Let me see it,' said the servant. 'Aye, it's all right-I'll take care of it-you need not trouble yourself any more about the matter ;'and so saying, he slapped the door in her face. When she returned, her husband produced the two cakes which his master gave him on parting; and breaking one to divide between his children, how was he astonished at finding six golden guineas in it; and when he took the other and broke it, he found as many more. He then remembered the words of his generous master, who desired him to give one of the cakes to his wife, and not to eat the other himself until that time; and this was the way his master took to conceal his wages, lest he should have been robbed, or have lost the money on the road.

The following day, as John was standing near his cabin-door, and turning over in his own mind what he should do with his money, the young squire came riding down the road.

John pulled off his hat, for he had not forgot his manners through the means of his travelling to foreign parts, and then made so bold as to inquire if his honour had got the purse he lost.

Why, it is true enough, my good fellow,' said the squire, I did lose my purse yesterday, and I hope you were lucky enough to find it; for, if that is your cabin, you seem