sense hath caught, amid that dulcet "jargoning" - that web of harmony so mingled-each separate strain hath caught and singled. Hark! 'tis the voice of him who told of Thalaba the "wondrous tale;" now singing of the maiden bold, who, visionprompted, left the vale, wherein her lowly lot was cast, to stand amid the noblest of the land princes and haughty prelatesand proclaim, the mission upon which she came, and utterance give to thoughts, that in her breast, burned even as living flame, and might not be repressed :

"Before the train

In reverent silence waiting their sage will,
With half-averted eye, she stood composed.
So have I seen the simple Snowdrop rise
Amid the russet leaves that hide the earth
In early spring: so seen it gently bend
In modest loveliness alone amid

The waste of winter !"

The theme is changed, and now the song is of

"Majestic Chastity, whose sober smile

Delights and awes the soul; a laurel wreath
Restrains her tresses, and upon her breast

The Snowdrop droops its head, and seems to grow
Spontaneous, wild, and fair."

How fit an ornament to place upon the breast of chastity; methinks the flower must add a grace, e'en to so fair a nymph as she. But hark! another voice. the same which sung the perils of the bright-eyed mariner,-which erst did tell, if what befel, the gentle-hearted Cristabel; and of the guileless Geneviev, and of the youth, her worshipper, a touching melody did weave -a voice

"Like of a hidden brook
In the leafy month of June,

That to the sleeping woods all night
Singeth a quiet tune."

Comes floating on the Zephyr's wing, from where the Pixies hail their queen, and frisk in many an antic ring, upon the sward so green singing of the graces all, and the virtues that attend on a maiden fair and small, thus he hails his lovely friend :

"With what obeisance meet

Thy presence shall we greet?

For lo! attendant on thy steps are seen
Graceful ease in artless stole,

And white-robed purity of soul,

With honor's softer mein.

Mirth with the loosely flowing hair,

And meek-eyed pity, eloquently fair,
Whose tearful cheeks are lovely to the view
As Snowdrop wet with dew."

Another now takes up the strain, and adds a link to the golden chain of harmony, which twines around the senses, raptured and fast bound, as by a spell; we know full well those tones so deeply musical; majestic, bland, we see him stand beside the lakes of Westmoreland, and to a child, fair, meek, and mild, that amid the mountains rude and wild, passeth her happy infancy, now casting pebbles in the lake, now plucking berries in the brake-a simple child-thus singeth he:

"When I behold thy blanched, unwithered cheek,
Thy temples fringed with locks of gleaming white,
And head that droops because the soul is meek;
Thee with the welcome Snowdrop I compare,

That child of winter, prompting thoughts that climb
From desolation towards the genial prime."

More, oh, more! behind, before; around, above, on every side, the sweet sounds glide; now floating faintly from afar, and tremulous, as though some star were voiceing forth a hymn of love; now loud and deep, they roll and sweep, like surges on a caverned shore; now measured, slow, and soft, and low, like bells that in the distance chime; now lively, fleet, as dancer's feet, that to the beat of unseen instruments keep time. Listen! listen! amid the bowers of Italy she wanders now, and as she twines the myrtle flowers in chaplets for her brow, their odorous breath recalls to mind, the sweet blooms she has left behind, in woods and sunny meadows growing, where the bright blue streams are flowing, on whose banks she loved to stray, in an earlier, happier day; waking now her lute's soft strings, to her place of birth she sings:

Where the rathe Snowdrop hangs its fragile head."

The strain is lost for a voice of power, now loudly thus doth sing

"Peeps not a snowdrop in the bower

Where never froze the spring??

Impetuous as a flood, that breaks from winter's loosened chain; loud as an eagle's scream, that wakes its quarry on the plain, when grief or wrong his theme he makes, is Elliott, but he often wakes, a softer, gentler strain; babbles of brooks, and flowery nooks; sings to the thrush-the bramble bush; or for his tuneful subject takes, "the wonders of the lane."

"Winter hath a joy for me

When the Saviour's charms I read ;
Lowly, meek, from blemish free,

In the snowdrops pensive head."

Thus the bard of Olney sings, he who in all earthly things, heavenly types beholdeth, stirring up the soul to praise, and songs of gratitude to Him, whose glory makes all glory dim, that man, vain man, enfoldeth.

While one there standeth on the verge of the departing year, and as the hours their coursers urge, thus shouteth loud and clear

"Tis he, the two-faced Janus comes in view;

Wild hyacinths his robes adorn,

And Snowdrops, rivals of the morn."

Another hails advancing spring, dim through the whirling snowwreaths seen, with blue eyes brightly glistening, and robe of emerald sheen :

"First of thine harbingers, the Snowdrop mild
Precurser of its race, with pendant bells,
Braving the lingering frost thy coming tells."

While he who wandereth alone by Allington's time-riven towers, and listen to the gentle moan of breezes amid the alder bowers, that fringe the Medway's gliding stream, whose lightly dancing ripplets seem, now flashing here, now gleaming there, like golden locks of Neriad's hair, loosened that she might sport at ease, amid the blue, pellucid waters, sings, in the lay which he has framed to please Kent's blooming daughters, how played the moonbeams on

"Evadne's cheek

Pale as a drooping Snowdrop and as meek." And now a manly voice is heard, whose energetic tones have stirred my spirit oft, though loud, not rude; and ne'er hath February's Maid," in all the homage to her paid, been so vividly pourtrayed, as here given to the view, in the simple words and few, of this most exquisite similitude :—

"The frail Snowdrop.

Born of the breath of winter, and on his brow
Fixed like a pale and solitary star."

Harp of the north, why silent are thy strings? Say, Scotia, why from thy heather-purpled hills, the broom-scented breeze not a sound to us brings, save the piping of the laverock, and the murmur of the rills? Have thy bards not a word for this "gem on winter's brow ?" Do they not love this fairest, most delicate of flowers? Yes, yes: we hear them raising their voices, even now; and tuning up their wild harps amid the birchen bowers :

"Oh, sweetly beautiful it is to mark

The virgin vernal Snowdrop! lifting up
Meek as a nun the whiteness of her cup
From earth's dead bosom, desolate and dark."

Sings he who oft hath "Maga's" pages graced, with numbers musical, and sweet as love, where the divine embodiment is traced, of thoughts that soar, and hopes that rise above the narrow confines of mortality: but, hush! there comes a gush of soul inspiring music, full and free, as carol of a bird, that spreadeth wide her wings, and gladsomely, soareth above all cares that might annoy. 'Tis he! 'Tis he who walks in glory and in joy, "following his plough along the mountain side, weaving a chaplet for his bonny bride :

:

"I pue'd the rose to deck her hair,

The gleid o' dew shone on its blossom:
I pue'd the snowdrop fresh and fair,
To droop upon her heaving bosom."

In distance dies the song away, becoming faint, and fainter still another now takes up the strain, whose words flow onward like a stream, that down a gently sloping hill, goes rippling in the summer ray; pleased with the lay, we list again, like one that lyeth in a dream, of childhood, long since passed

away:

"Of a' the flowers that deck the grove,

When spring's sweet time does fa',

The Snawdrap is the flower I love,

It blooms afore them a'.

It blooms afore them al', to cheer
My lassie's natal day;

When ilka thing is sad and drear
The Snawdrap blossoms gay.
Sing, hey, the bonny Snawdrap, O!
Bright sparklin' wi' the dewdrap, O!
Fairest, purest, flower of any,
Emblem o' my winsome Fanny."