The parted birds no longer rove,

But sprightly now in every grove.
Respond the cheerful voice of love.

Sweet child of love! O dost thou see
All nature smiles

This day of love.

The playful wiles,

The billing kiss on every tree
The peach flowers come.

Gay winds the budding leaflets move,

The pretty birds now woo and pair,

And sing of love and hope, my fair!

Thou most beloved! O may'st thou feel
Within thy breast

This day of love!

To thee confess'd

The warmth, the passion I reveal

MY LOVE, MY HOPE!

Upon thy thought my fate is wove;
Spring and Aurora smile for me
Only as smiles my Amadee!

CAMILDHU

MARIA.

I will not say the maid I love Is fairer than the evening star,

When beautiful o'er hill and grove,
Through falling dews, it gleams afar.

But, O! her goodness, I will say,
Is sweeter for its soothing powers,
Than twilight zephyrs when they play
Through arboured walk of breathing flowers.

I will not call her soul more bright
Than open noon, in summer tide,
Repulsive in its blaze of light,
That dazzles sense on every side.

But, O, her heart as bland I cali
As sweet, and all as clear from stain,
As the soft moonlight beams that fall
And melt along the moving main.

The love of such a heart would be
Like a bright heavenly cloud sublime,
That should around encompass me
And shut out worldly wo and crime.
Yet, O, can e'er I wish her mine,
My frailties and my griefs to prove!-
I can but wish I were divine,
To love her with an angel's love.

J. M-Y.

MR. OLDSCHOOL,

Should the following poetic tribute to the memory of a worthy minister of the Society of Friends be deemed eligible to a place in your invaluable Port Folio, the insertion of it, I doubt not, will gratify no small portion of your readers. It is the production of a lady of this city; and is offered you in its original dress. S.

TO THE MEMORY OF MY MUCH ESTEEMED FRIEND, DANIEL STANTON, WHO EXCHANGED THIS LIFE FOR A BETTER, JUNE 28th, 1770.

Know ye that there is a prince and a great man fallen this day, in Israel.

2 Sam. iii. 38.

If I be not an apostle to others, yet doubtless I am to you, for the seal of mine apostleship are ye in the Lord. 1 Cor. ix. 2.

I need invoke no fabled Muse, to mourn
Or pour feigned sorrow o'er the prophet's urn;
For, Oh! too deep my soul partakes the wo!

Our Zion feels on such a piercing blow;
Since, in this stroke, no common stroke is found,
A public loss! a painful, bleeding wound;
For know, this day, removed from earth's abode,

A prince, a priest, and prophet to his God;
A faithful labourer in his Master's cause;

A firm asserter of Messiah's laws.

A steady watchman, careful to alarm.

And rouse the camp to action and to arm,

To arm the soul against its mortal foe,
Who well maintained the holy war below.
Laid not his heavenly armour in the dust
To soil its beauty and contract a rust,
But kept its lustre undefiled and clean,
A spotless image of his soul within;

For, few perhaps, the lot of life endure
With hearts less guilty, or with hands more pure;
Anxious each call of duty to attend,

A powerful teacher and a Christian friend;
While with a cherub's love and seraph's zeal
He taught to know and do his Master's will;
With heaven's acceptance blessed, his favoured mind
Grew daily more enlightened and refined;
Weaned from the earth, sublimed by ardent love;
He panted for the converse known above;
Oft winged his flight amidst his kindred blest;
And held communion with the saints released;
For oh, in him conspicuously were joined
The humble Christian watchful and resigned.
For us his painful labours he bestowed:
For us his prayer ascended to his God;
For us he wept, he watched, he led the way,

And oh! to us, the apostle of our day!

Where shall we meet with such a kindred mind?
Where now our interceding Moses find,
To judge aright,-for heaven the flock to guide,
And turn, by prayer, the thunder-bolt aside;
How would his soul in supplication rise
On angel pinions to his native skies!
Implore the mercy, deprecate the rod;
And breathe his soul, enraptured, to his God!
Till glowing with such zeal and love divine
As Heaven approves, and saints perfected join,
His mounting spirit pierced the world unknown,
And gained sweet access to his Father's throne,
And, thus advancing on the Gospel plan,
He glowed with love to God and love to man.

"A friend, when dead, is but removed from sight,
Sunk in the lustre of eternal light;

And when the parting storms of life are o'er

May yet rejoin us on a happier shore.”

Burlington, January 20, 1813.

Died on board the U. S. frigate Constitution at sea, 28th January, of wounds received in the action with the Java, Lieut. John Cushing Aylwin, of the U. S. navy. He entered the service about the time war was declared, as a sailing master, and was promoted to a lieutenancy for his gallant conduct in the action with the Guerriere. He was an officer of great merit, much esteemed by all who had the pleasure of his acquaintance. In his death, our country has suffered a great loss; his friends a painful deprivation. He had seen much of the world, and improved his opportunities of observation-possessed a strong mind, with great benevolence of disposition.

In the action with the Guerriere he stood on an elevated situation by the side of his brave comrades Morris and Bush, at the time the two vessels came in contact, and was wounded in the left shoulder with a musket ball. In the late action he commanded the forecastle division, and his bravery, and marked coolness throughout the contest, gained him the admiration of his commander, and all who had an opportunity of witnessing him. When boarders were called to repel boarders, he mounted the quarter deck hammock cloths, and, in the act of firing his pistols at the enemy, he received a ball through the same shoulder. Notwithstanding the serious nature of his wound, he continued at his post until the enemy had struck; and even then did not make known to the surgeon his own situation, nor until all the wounded had been dressed. His zeal and courage did not forsake him in his last moments: for a few days after the action, although labouring under considerable debility, and the most excruciating pain, he left his state room, and repaired to quarters, when an engagement was expected with a ship, which afterwards proved to be the Hornet. He bore his pain with great and unusual fortitude, and expired without a groan.

"A dauntless soul erect, who smiled on death."