many parts of his writings.

"The records there of friendships, held like rocks,
And enmities like sun-touch'd snow resign'd,"

are frequently visible. His glorious attachment to the Grecian cause is
a sufficient recompense for _previous_ follies exaggerated and
propagated by calumny's poisonous tongue. In a word, "there is scarce a
passion or a situation which has escaped his pen; and he might be drawn,
like Garrick, between the weeping and the laughing muses."

A. B. C.

* * * * *


THE SONG OF THE WIDOWED MOTHER TO HER CHILD.

BY THE AUTHOR Of "AHAB."

(_For the Mirror._)


O Sink to sleep, my darling boy,
Thy father's dead, thy mother lonely,
Of late thou wert his pride, his joy,
But now thou hast not one to own thee.
The cold wide world before us lies,
But oh! such heartless things live in it,
It makes me weep--then close thine eyes