Mould its green cup, its wiry stem, Its fringed border nicely spin, And fling it, unrestrained and free, MASON GOOD. Malvina bending over the tomb of Fingal, wept for the valiant Oscar, and a son of Oscar's who never beheld the light of day. The maids of Morven to soothe her grief, assembled around her, and sang the death of the hero and of the new-born infant. The hero is fallen, said they, he is fallen! The crash of his arms hath rung over the plain. He is beyond the reach of disease, which enfeebles the soul-of old age, which dishonours the brave. He has fallen, and the crash of his arms hath rung over the plain! In the palace of clouds, where dwell his ancestors, he now quaffs with them the cup of immortality. Dry the tears of thy grief, O daughter of Toscar! The hero is fallen !—he is fallen!-and the crash of his arms hath rung over the plain! Then, in a softer tone, they said to her: The child which hath not seen the light hath not known the sorrows of life: his young spirit, borne aloft on glittering wings, soars to the abodes of everlasting day. The souls of infants who, like thine, have burst without pain the bonds of life, reclining on golden clouds, appear and open to him the mysterious portal of the manufactory of flowers. There these innocents are continually employed in enclosing the flowers that the next spring shall bring forth in imperceptible germs: these germs they scatter every morning over the earth with the tears of the dawn. Millions of delicate hands enwrap the rose in its bud, the grain of corn in its husk, the mighty oak in a single acorn, a whole forest in an imperceptible seed. We have seen him, Malvina! we have seen the infant whom thou mournest, borne on a light mist; he approached, and poured upon our fields a fresh harvest of flowers. Behold, Malvina !among these flowers there is one with golden disk, encircled with rays of silver, tipped with a delicate tint of crimson. Waving amid the grass in a gentle breeze, it looks like a little child playing in a green meadow. Dry thy tears, O Malvina !-the hero died covered with his arms; and the flower of thy bosom has given a new flower to the hills of Cromla. And the grief of Malvina was soothed by these songs, and she repeated the song of the new-born. Since that day the daughters of Morven have consecrated the Daisy to infancy. It is, they say, the flower of innocence, the flower of the new. born. 3* HEART'S-EASE. THINK OF ME. THE Heart's-ease, Viola tricolor, or Pansy, from the French Pensée, is a beautiful variety of the Violet, differing from it in the diversity of its colours, the petals being chiefly yellow, variegated with black and purple. In fragrance, however, it is far inferior to the Violet. One species of the Pansy is entirely purple. And there are pansies, that's for thoughts, And thou, so rich in gentle names, appealing BARTON. The fanciful origin of the colour of this flower is thus described by our great bard:— I saw, Flying between the cold moon and the carth, Cupid all armed; a certain aim he took At a fair vestal throned in the West, And loosed his love-shaft smartly from his bow, In the maiden meditation, fancy free. Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell: It fell upon a little western flower, Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound, SHAKSPEARE. In the year 1815, this flower furnished occasion for a tragi-comic occurrence in France. A schoolmaster in a provincial town had proposed as a theme for his pupils a description of the Viola tricolor, and given them as a motto the following passage from a Latin poem by Father Rapin, en. titled "The Gardens ;" Flosque Jovis varius, folii tricoloris, et ipsi The mayor of the town was informed of the circumstance; and, taking it into his head that the object of the schoolmaster was to excite insurrec. tion against the government of the lately-restored |