'Mongst which, the savage horde canine,
Kept hungry by sedate design-

Those HOUNDS that, now and then, contrive
To eat their keepers up alive—
I here might aptly introduce
To shew man's wisdom and its use;
But the horrific theme is such

It proves, I fear, almost too much;*

Talk of a heart! prate to the wind!
The storm, the waves, are far more kind!
Have we not homes and children too?
How often he doth these destroy,

In all the glee of savage joy,

I need not here relate to you.
Talk of a heart!-what I have said
Will

prove what are both heart and head!
Of MAN, our MASTER, these are deeds
At which the heart revolting bleeds:
Of man, too, who is said to be,-
Of all God's creatures only he,-

The HIGHLY-CIVILIZED!
Of man who, vainly proud of name,
Asks guerdon of immortal FAME!

By fame such deeds are duly priz'd!
Might I now here advice presume
This Lord's thick darkness to illume,
I'd say-If thy penchant be still

The fowls of air, in SPORT, to kill,

*The circumstance here alluded to occurred in Somersetshire about twenty years ago. See my Observations on the Dialects of the West of England, article FANNY Fear.

Go to the INDIAN, white man! go,

And learn his ourah reed to blow-
Compound wourali poison,—deep
The arrow in the fell juice steep,
Then shoot-the bird, with scarce a sigh,
Will thank thee for such death, and die.*
And are we not, 'tis painful thus
To speak of what relates to Us —
I here more strictly now apply
The word to sparrows such as I—

arrow,

* We learn from WATERTON's Wanderings, that the BLOWPIPE, with which the Indians of Guiana shoot their poisoned arrows at birds, consists of a long hollow reed without a joint. The part used is ten or eleven feet long; it is called OURAH: the case consists of another reed called SAMOURAH. The which is made from the leaf of a palm tree, is hard and brittle, and pointed as sharp as a needle. About an inch of the pointed end is dipped in the poison called WOURALI, which destroys life's action so gently that the victim appears to be in no pain whatever. This powerful and fatal drug is a syrupous de coction made from several vegetables, the chief of which is called wouruli, whence the poison has obtained its name, and from venomous ants and the fangs of some snakes. It is prepared by the Indians with many superstitious rites. With this blow-pipe the Indian can send an arrow three hundred feet: he puts the arrow, round one end of which some cotton is wound to resist the air, into the tube, and, collecting his breath for the fatal puff, after taking aim, sends it on the work of death; the birds, it is said, are not at all injured by the poison,-in three minutes the victim generally falls to the ground. The plant called wourali is one of the scandent tribe, and allied to the genus strychnos.-The particular species does not appear to be yet ascertained.

And are we not a social tribe?

We follow man without a bribe;

We leave even corn with him to dwell,
Why, let him, if he's able, tell:

For in his cities we abound

Where corn grows not, nor weeds are found.
"How live you, then?"-I almost scorn
Such question! certes not on corn!
We live by worthy means-by wit-
Have I not rightly answered it?-
We live-enjoy domestic life-

And though we sing not, you may see
And hear us always full of glee ;
Nor know we much of care or strife,
Save what proud MAN provides for us.

From what is said conclude we thus:
That yet, our knowledge cannot scan
The vast design which we, with man,
In nature's universe behold;-

That, though there be some beings bold
Who would prescribe laws to that POWER,
Beneath which we and man must cower,
How often are we set at nought-
Our insignificance how taught?

Yet

may we cherish HAPPINESS
And all our fellow beings bless,
By offices of tenderness.-
Here chiefly lie our duties-here
No doubts arise-no mists appear.
Who is it then that has most sense?
HE WHO SHEWS MOST BENEVOLENCE!

THE shadows of evening began to grow long; The monarch once more now demanded a song. Desirous to know how their notes would combine He directed the songsters in chorus to join. With the rich varied concert resounded the glen : The Nightingale-Blackcap-the Thrush-Willow

wren ;

The Redbreast-the Linnet-the Lark, with brisk

note;

The Stone-chat--Wren-Goldfinch-the Woodlark

White-throat;

Blackbird-Bulfinch-the Swallow-the Petty-chaps

loud,

Missel-Red-pole, and Red-start, were heard 'midst the crowd.

The Hedge-Sparrow-Pigeon-the Siskin-the Dove
Were pleas'd to pour out, too, the notes of their love.
Yet who of such sounds may the melody tell
That, on zephyr's light wings, were borne far up the dell?
No artist could copy-no pen could indite!
The BIRDS, too, were now all preparing for flight.
They departed in peace; while the NIGHTINGALE'S

song,

'Midst the silence was heard, deep, melodious, and strong: First, to Eve a rich carol of rapture he sang;

Now, with Love notes, the woodlands delightfully rang; Then, to Day a "FAREWELL," and a "WELCOME" to Night,

He warbled ;-the moon in her splendour rose bright.

TO THE WARBLERS*.

"On every bough the birdis herd I sing
With voice of angell in their harmonie."
CHAUCER, Assemble of Foules.

THEN hail, ye sweet WARBLERS! continue to sing!
Ever charm by your presence the redolent SPRING!
Be your SONGS ever sacred to PEACE and to LOVE,
And
may HARMONY ever be found in the grove.
May the woods, dells, and vallies, resound with your

voice;

And
may MAN in
your FREEDOM for ever rejoice.
No more may he wantonly death 'midst you send,
But become, as in duty, your PATRON and FRIEND;
No more in your sorrows delight, nor the crime
Of involving your feathers in treacherous lime;
No more may in prison your peace he beset;
No more may ensnare you with bait or in net.
May he cease to torment you in SPORT with dire pain!
And my song, ye sweet WARBLERS! shall not be in

vain!

* By Warblers here the reader will please to understand not only the genus Motacilla or Sylvia, but also the whole tribe of Song-birds.