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Ere yellow Autumn from our plains retired,
And gave to wintry storms the varied year,
The Swallow-race with prescient gift inspired,
To southern climes prepared their course to steer.
On Damon's roof a large assembly sate,

His roof a refuge to the feathered kind!
With serious look he marked the grave debate,
And to his Delia thus addressed his mind :
'Observe yon twittering flock, my gentle maid,
Observe, and read the wondrous ways of Heav'n!
With us through Summer's genial reign they stayed,
And food and sunshine to their wants were giv❜n.
'But, now, by secret instinct taught, they know
The near approach of elemental strife,
Of blustering tempests, and of chilling snow,
With every pang and scourge of tender life.
'Thus warned, they meditate a speedy flight,

For this ev'n now they prune their vigorous wing, For this each other to the toil excite,

And prove their strength in many a sportive ring. 'No sorrow loads their breast, or dims their eye, To quit their wonted baunts, or native home; Nor fear they launching on the boundless sky, In search of future settlements to roam.

'They feel a power, an impulse all divine,

That warns them hence, they feel it and obey ; To this direction all their cares resign,

Unknown their destined stage, unmarked their way.

'Peace to your flight! ye mild, domestic race:
O! for your wings to travel with the sun!
Health brace your nerves, and zephyrs aid your pace,
Till your long voyage happily be done.

'See, Delia, on my roof your guests to-day,

To-morrow on my roof your guests no more;
Ere yet 'tis night, with haste they wing away,
To-morrow lands them on some happier shore.'
How just the moral in this scene conveyed!
And what, without a moral, would we read?
Then mark what Damon tells his gentle maid,
And with his lesson register the deed.

So youthful joys fly like the Summer's gale,
So threats the winter of inclement age;
Life's busy plot a short fantastic tale!

And Nature's changeful scenes, the shifting stage!
And does no friendly Power to man dispense
The joyful tidings of some happier clime?
Find we no guide in gracious Providence,
Beyond the gloomy grave and short-lived time?
Yes, yes; the sacred oracles we hear

That point the path to realms of endless joy, That bid our trembling hearts no danger fear, Though clouds surround, and angry skies annoy. Then let us wisely for our flight prepare,

Nor count this stormy world our fixed abode; Obey the call, and trust our Leader's care,

To smooth the rough and light the darksome road. Moses, by grant divine, led Israel's host

Through dreary paths to Jordan's fruitful side;
But we a loftier theme than theirs can boast-
A better promise, and a nobler guide.


At length the Winter's howling blasts are o'er,
Arrayed in smiles the lovely Spring returns ;
Now fuelled hearths attractive blaze no more,
And every breast with inward fervour burns.

Again the daisies peep, the violets blow,
Again the vocal tenants of the grove
Forgot the pattering hail or driving snow,
Renew the lay to melody and love.

And see, my Delia, see o'er yonder stream,
Where on the bank the lambs in gambols play;

Alike attracted by the sunny gleam,

Again the Swallows take their wonted way.
Welcome, ye gentle tribe, your sports pursue,
Welcome again to Delia, and to me;
Your peaceful councils on my roof renew,
And plan new settlements from danger free.

Again I'll listen to your grave debates,

Again I'll hear your twittering songs unfold What policy directs your wandering states,

What bounds are settled, and what tribes enrolled.

Again I'll hear you tell of distant lands,

What insect-nations rise from Egypt's mud,
What painted swarms subsist on Lybia's sands,
What Ganges yields, and what th' Euphratean flood.

Thrice happy race! whom Nature's call invites
To travel o'er her realms with active wing,
To taste her various stores, her best delights,
The Summer's radiance, and the sweets of Spring;
While we are doomed to bear the restless change
Of varying seasons, vapours dank and dry,
Forbid, like you, in milder climes to range,
When wintry storms usurp the lowering sky.
Yet know the period to your joys assigned,
Know ruin hovers o'er this earthly ball;
As lofty towers stoop prostrate to the wind,
Its secret props of adamant shall fall.

But when yon radiant sun shall shine no more,
The spirit, freed from sin's tyrannic sway,
On lighter pinions borne than yours, shall soar
To fairer realms beneath a brighter ray,

To plains ethereal, and celestial bow'rs,

Where wintry storms no rude access obtain,
Where blasts no lightning, and no tempest low'rs,
But ever-smiling Spring and Pleasure reign.



MAY is so called from Maia, the mother of Mercury, to whom sacrifices were offered by the Romans on the first of this month; or, according to some, from respect to the senators and nobles of Rome, who were named Majores, as the following month was termed Junius, in honour of the youth of Rome. The Saxons called May, tri-milki, because, in that month, they began to milk their kine three times in the day.

Remarkable Days.


ANTIENTLY, all ranks of people went out a maying early on the first of this month. The juvenile part of both sexes, in the north, were wont to rise a little after midnight, and walk to some neighbouring wood, accompanied with music and the blowing of horns; where they break down branches from the trees, and adorn them with nosegays and crowns of flowers. When this is done, they return with their booty homewards, about the rising of the sun, and make their doors and windows to triumph in the flowery spoil. The after part of the day is chiefly spent in dancing round a tall pole, which is called a May-pole; which being placed in a convenient part of the village, stands there, as it were, consecrated to the goddess of flowers, without the least violation offered it, in the whole circle of the year.'

The custom of going a maying is now confined wholly to the populace; and the milk-maids' garland' and chimney-sweepers' dance' are the most remarkable features of this annual celebration.

But even these amusements are very much upon the decline, both in town and country, and promise to be, in a few years, quite extinct. We may, indeed, already say, with the poet

No more in choral bands unite

Her virgin vot'ries, and at early dawn,
Sacred to MAY and Love's mysterious rite,

Brush the light dew-drops from the spangled lawn.

To her no more AUGUSTA's wealthy pride
Pours the full tribute from Porosi's mine;

Nor fresh-blown garlands village maids provide,
A purer off'ring at her rustic shrine.

'Alluding to the country custom of gathering May-dew. ? The plate-garlands of London.


No more the MAYPOLE's verdant height around
To valour's games th' ambitious youth advance;
No merry bells and tabors' sprightlier sound

Wake the loud carol and the sportive dance.

1. SAINT PHILIP AND SAINT JAMES THE LESS. Philip was born at Bethsaida, near the sea of Tiberias, the city of Andrew and Peter. He was one of the first disciples, and an apostle. James the Less, called also James the Just, and, by the apostle Paul, James, the Lord's brother, was the son of Joseph, afterwards husband to the Virgin Mary, as is probable by his first wife. The first of these martyrs was stoned to death, and the second, having been thrown from a high place, was killed by a fuller's staff.

*2. 1816.-PRINCESS CHARLOTTE Married.
Father of Mercies! bless,
Prosper with happiness,
The Royal Pair;

Viewed with admiring gaze,

Cheered by a Nation's praise,

Crown them with length of days;
Grant Britain's prayer !


The Romish Church celebrates this day as a festival, to commemorate the invention or finding of a wooden cross, supposed to be the true one, by Helena, the mother of Constantine the Great.


John the Evangelist was a Galilean by birth, the son of Zebedee and Salome, the younger brother of James, but not of him that was surnamed the Just, and who was the brother of our Lord. Being carried prisoner to Rome, he was condemned to be thrown into a cauldron of boiling oil, but was miraculously preserved, and came out of it alive. He survived to the reign of Trajan, and died about ninety years of age.

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