his mind were indicated in the occasional brilliancy of the expression
of his countenance; the habitual patience and mildness of his
disposition, in its permanent look of placidity and repose.--_From an
interesting paper in No. XIII. of the Foreign Quarterly Review._

* * * * *


DIRGE.


The moon was a-waning,
The tempest was over;
Fair was the maiden,
And fond was the lover;
But the snow was so deep,
That his heart it grew weary,
And he sunk down to sleep,
In the moorland so dreary.

Soft was the bed
She had made for her lover,
White were the sheets
And embroider'd the cover;
But his sheets are more white,
And his canopy grander,
And sounder he sleeps
Where the hill foxes wander.

Alas, pretty maiden,