And, friends! dear friends! when it Named softly as the household name

And how, when, one by one, sweet sounds He testified this solemn truth,

Moi r.

D. M. Moir lebte und wirkte als Arzt zu Musselburg, nicht fern von Edinburg. Im verflossenen Jahre ist er gestorben, nachdem er lange Zeit unter dem Namen Delta einer der bedeutendsten Mitarbeiter am Blackwood Magazin gewesen war. Ausser "The Legend of Genevieve and other Tales and Poems 1825 und Domestic Verses 1843, hat er Mehreres in Zeitschriften (to the periodical Literature of the Day) so wie andere, namentlich medicinische Werke geschrieben, wie Outlines of the ancient History of Medecine.

Moir's Dichtungen zeichnen sich durch tiefe, innige Empfindung, Anmuth, Phantasie und treffliche Sprache sehr vortheilhaft aus, und sichern ihm ein dauerndes Andenken bei seiner Nation.

Sunset.

How beautiful the evening beams are falling on the sea,

Where many a white sail pleasantly is moving up and down;

There is not a cloud the sun to shroud, the sky from speck is free,

And as on a painted landscape, sleep forest, tower, and town.

So freshly fair, and everywhere, the feature

of the scene,

The realms where sorrow dare not come,
Where life is joy?

Pure at thy death as at thy birth,
Thy spirit caught no taint from earth;
Even by its bliss we mete our death,
Casa Wappy!

Despair was in our last farewell,
As closed thine eye;
Tears of our anguish may not tell
When thou didst die;

That earth appears a resting place where Words may not paint our grief for thee, angels might alight; Sighs are but bubbles on the sea As if Sorrow ne'er a visitant in human breast Of our unfathomed agony,

had been,

And the verdure of the summer months had

never suffered blight.
-a twilight haze enwraps
the sea and shore

Now sinks the sun
The small waves murmur on the beach, as
't were a dirge for day;
The blackbird from yon poplar green, its ditty
warbles o'er,

And the evening star peeps south afar above
the hills of grey.

In the glory of the sunset glow, my thoughts
abroad had flown,
I only saw the landscape, in its splendid
hues array'd,
But the dreams of long-lost pleasures, and of
friends for ever gone,
Came to me with the pensive hour of
loneliness and shade.

Casa Wappy!

Thou wert a vision of delight
To bless us given;
Beauty embodied to our sight,
So dear to us thou wert, thou art
A type of heaven:
Even less thine own self than a part
Of mine and of thy mother's heart,
Casa Wappy!

Thy bright brief day knew no decline,
"Twas cloudless joy;

Sunrise and night alone were thine,
Beloved boy!

This morn beheld thee blithe and gay,
That found thee prostrate in decay,
And e'er a third shone, clay was clay,
Casa Wappy!

Gem of our hearth, our household pride,
Earth's undefiled;

And hast thou sought thy heavenly home, Could love have saved, thou hadst not died, Our fond, dear boy

Our dear, sweet child!

Robert Montgomery hat sich bereits seit 1828 durch das „The Omnipotence of the Deity hervorgethan, dem bald einige andere Gedichte folgten, die seinen Dichterruf bleibend begründet haben, wie Satan 1830, The Messiah 1832, Luther u. a.

Montgomery's literarische Thätigkeit scheint sich gänzlich dem Dienste der Religion und den Wahrheiten gewidmet zu haben, deren begabter und beredter Verkünder er auf der Kanzel ist.

Seine poetischen Leistungen sind in ähnlichem Geiste wie die des älteren Montgomery, und zeichnen sich namentlich durch poetischen Erguss und leichten Versbau aus, ohne jedoch mit der Selbständigkeit in der Erfindung und der Reinheit in der Sprache geschrieben zu sein, wodurch die Dichtungen des letzterwähnten sich unterscheiden.

The Starry Heavens.

Ye quenchless stars! so eloquently bright,
Untroubled sentries of the shadowy night,
While half the world is lapped in downy
dreams,

And round the lattice creep your midnight

beams,

How sweet to gaze upon your placid eyes,
In lambent beauty looking from the skies!
And when, oblivious of the world, we stray
At dead of night along some noiseless way,

How the heart mingles with the moonlit hour,
As if the starry heavens suffused a power!
Full in her dreamy light, the moon presides,
Shrined in a halo, mellowing as she rides;
And far around, the forest and the stream
Bathe in the beauty of her emerald beam;
The lulled winds, too, are sleeping in their

caves,

No stormy murmurs roll upon the waves;
Nature is hushed, as if her works adored,
Stilled by the presence of her living Lord'
And now, while through the ocean-mantling
haze

A dizzy chain of yellow lustre plays,
And moonlight loveliness hath veiled the land,
Go, stranger, muse thou by the wave-worn
strand:

Centuries have glided o'er the balanced earth,
Myriads have blessed, and myriads cursed
their birth;

Still, yon sky-beacons keep a dimless glare,
Unsullied as the God who throned them there!
Though swelling earthquakes heave the as-
tounded world,

And king and kingdom from their pride are
hurled,

Sublimely calm, they run their bright career,
Unheedful of the storms and changes here.
We want no hymn to hear, or pomp to see,
For all around is deep divinity!

Picture of War.

Like young waves racing in the morning sun,
That rear and leap with reckless fury on!

But mark yon war-worn man, who looks on
high,
With thought and valour mirrored in his eye!
Not all the gory revels of the day
Can fright the vision of his home away;
The home of love, and its associate smiles,
His wife's endearment, and his baby's wiles:
Fights he less brave through recollected bliss,
With step retreating, or with sword remiss?
Ah no! remembered home's the warrior's
charm,

Speed to his sword, and vigour to his arm;
For this he supplicates the god afar,
Fronts the steeled foe, and mingles in the

war!

The cannon's hushed! — nor drum, nor clarion
sound;
Helmet and hauberk gleam upon the ground;
Horseman and horse lie weltering in their gore;
Patriots are dead, and heroes dare no more;
While solemnly the moonlightshrouds the plain,
And lights the lurid features of the slain.

And see! on this rent mound, where daisies
sprung,

A battle-steed beneath his rider flung;
Oh! never more he'll rear with fierce delight,
Roll his red eyes, and rally for the fight!
Pale on his bleeding breast the warrior lies,
While from his ruffled lids the white swelled
eyes

Spirit of light and life! when battle rears
Her fiery brow and her terriflic spears;
When red-mouthed cannon to the clouds Ghastly and grimly stare upon the skies!