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Sorrow is proud, and lonely, and would close

Our doors against inquirers, vainly kind;

But fear i* mean, and hungrily inclin'd

To catch at crumbs from strangers or from foes;

And it would drive us pitiably io seek

The starveling hope that common callers give :

We swallow'd greedily what they did speak,

For they were sure to say—' The child will live.'

Scott.

The day, which makes a man a slave, takes away half his worth; and he loses every incentive to action, but the base one of fear.

ON SEEING IN A LIST OF MUSIC THE " WATERLOO WALTZ."

A MOMENT pause, ye British fair,

While pleasure's phantom ye pursue, And say if sprightly dance or air, Suit with the name of " Waterloo ?" Awful was the victory, Chasten'd should the triumph be; Amidst the laurels nobly won, Britain mourns for many a son.

Veil'd in clouds the morning rose;

Nature seem'd to mourn the day, Which consign'd, before its close,

Thousands to their kindred clay :