relaxation of winter's iron rigour might, indeed, reward his curious explorations-a scentless violet, cerulean as the sky and of comfort as cold-a gilded celandine-a precious primrose-but save in the yellowing catkins of the sallow, that lure abroad from its mossy retreat the mountain bee with sonorous hum, the unfurnished bowers of the woodland are solitary and cheerless, and present few attractions to a sojourner that has But the days will come-are already maturing to their speedy developement, when the forest's undersward, shall grow verdant and assume beauty-and whiten and blush with blending blossoms-when the trees shall bend beneath a fragrant oppression of foliage and bloom; and life, melody and enjoyment shall again visit its deserted haunts. Then, diffusing "a sober certainty of waking bliss," over the familiar landscape where "every prospect pleases," will awake the cuckoo's gentle note. The note that best the tale can tell, Unto the past so true : And while it paints the absent well, Telling that healing prospects smile, For every earthly gloom; That Hope will climb the funeral pile, And point beyond the tomb. Such an epoch as the calling time of this favourite bird, could not fail to have its "trivial fond records" and concomitant superstitious figments. It is a common belief, that if the circumstances, in which its note is first heard for the season, be attended to, they afford unerring signs, whereby the secrets of a man's destiny, for the ensuing year, may be disclosed. In whatever direction he may be looking, when its tones arrest him, there will he be on the anniversary of that day next year. If he be gazing on the ground-he is warned of an untimely fate. If he has money in his pocket, it is an omen, that he shall not lack; if penniless, that the cruise of oil shall not be replenished, and that losses and disappointments shall be his lot.* Such, however, is the benevolent constitution of the human mind, such its hope for better things-the token of its invaluable worththe pledge of its immortality-that it rarely fails to discover, even in * "If you have money in your pockets," say the Germans, "when the Cuckoo first cries, all will go well during the year; and if you were fasting, you will be hungry the whole year.”— Grimm's Deutche Mythologie. VOL. III. the most despondent circumstances, prestiges of a bright futurity. No wonder then, that the Cuckoo's call, as the herald of good news, finds an echo in every bosom, and that, with eager anticipations, young and old are prepared to welcome its renewal. Thrice welcome, darling of the Spring! Even yet thou art to me No bird but an invisible thing, A voice, a mystery. The same whom in my school-boy days Which made me look a thousand ways, To seek thee did I often rove Through woods and on the green ; And listen till I do beget News from Northumberland. A SONG OF THE REBELLION OF 1569. OU whisperinge fellowes, that walke every wheare, I will tell ye, for troth, what newes I heare: The moone and the star are fallen so at stryfe, This geare, &c. What made the Murrian's Hed so stoute, A morryon of that hed! the Northe may saie ; That hed from the boddye must needes a waie. This geare, &c. The Lambe, that knewe this newes before, Did bid the Lyon begin to rore; The Lyon, that could not then refraine, Whose shakinge suche a shryll did yelde, And to Sainte Androwe be they gone, But I marvel yet of Ser John Shorne, The Cropyerde Fox, that this begon, And I pray ye, what hath his coriage wonne? Yet, when the newes shall come to Roome, To wright to many Christian kings; Why walk ye not by three and three, And saye, as you were wonte to do, Of manie great helpes you bragge and bost, You bragge of nothinge that you see. You bragge not of the Almightie's name; You bragge to see your countrey spoylde; This geare, &c. And as ye are of perverst minde, Where be the northern idiotes fled, That were by your devices led? They had bin better they had kept their bed; I thinke by this you do beleve, The devill him selfe laughes in his sleeve, And, to be short, I see and knowe Howe manie a one them selves bestowe ILLIAM ROBSON, a severe poetical satirist, and author of several political pamphlets and miscellaneous essays, and the publisher of "The Poetical Works of the celebrated and ingenious Thomas Whittell," printed at Newcastle in 1815, was for some time schoolmaster at Cambo; but removed to Morpeth about 1807, where he died in 1821. Robson had long expected to receive the original manuscript of Whittell's poems from Mr. Robert Codling, a native of Whelpington, who had settled as a planter at Rock Spring, Rio Bueno, Jamaica; but was surprised to find that the person to whose care it was entrusted had confided it |