Race after race their honours yield,
They flourish and decline.

But this small flower, to Nature dear,
While moons and stars their courses run,
Enwreathes the circle of the year,
Companion of the sun.

It smiles upon the lap of May,
To sultry August spreads its charm,
Lights pale October on his way,
And twines December's arm.

The purple heath and golden broom,
On moory mountains catch the gale;
O'er lawns the lily sheds perfume,
The violet in the vale.

But this bold floweret climbs the hill,
Hides in the forest, haunts the glen,
Plays on the margin of the rill,
Peeps round the fox's den.

Within the garden's cultured round
It shares the sweet carnation's bed;
And blooms on consecrated ground
In honour of the dead.

The lambkin crops its crimson gem;
The wild bee murmurs on its breast;
The blue-fly bends its pensile stem,
Light o'er the skylark's nest.
'Tis Flora's page-in every place,
In every season, fresh and fair;
It opens with perennial grace,
And blossoms everywhere.

On waste and woodland, rock and plain,

Its humble buds unheeded rise;

The rose has but a summer reign;
The Daisy never dies!

-00-0

[SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE, the son of the vicar of Ottery St. Mary, Devonshire, was born on the 20th of October, 1772. He received his education in Christ's Hospital, where Charles Lamb was his schoolfellow. From Christ's Hospital he went to Jesus College, Cambridge, where he remained from 1791 to 1793. He left college abruptly, and enlisted as a soldier in the 15th-Elliot's Light Dragoons. Discovered by his friends, he returned for a short time to college. Coleridge, at this time, was a Socinian and a Republican; and, in conjunction with three other poetical enthusiasts - Wordsworth, Southey, and Lloyd-he resolved to emigrate to America, and found a Pantisocracy, or republic of pure freedom.

This idea was not realized; afterwards Coleridge, Southey, and Lloyd married three sisters-the Misses Fricker of Bristol. Coleridge took up his abode among the northern lakes, where he wrote many poetical pieces, the most popular of which is "The Ancient Mariner,” and some prose works on theology, history, and politics. Opium-eating, to which he had at first recourse from its medicinal effects, disturbed his mental powers; and he found an asylum at the house of Mr. James Gilman, surgeon, at Highgate. He lived here for nineteen years, delighting his friends by his wonderful powers of conversation. He died on the 28th of July, 1834.]

FACILE credo, plures esse Naturas invisibiles quam visibiles in rerum universitate. Sed horum omnium familiam quis nobis enarrabit, et gradus et cognationes et discrimina et singulorum munera? Quid agunt? Quæ loca habitant? Harum rerum notitiam semper ambivit ingenium humanum, nunquam attigit. Juvat, interea, non diffiteor, quandoque in animo, tanquam in tabulâ, majoris et melioris mundi imaginem contemplari: ne mens assuefacta hodiernæ vitæ minutiis se contrahat nimis, et tota subsidat in pusillas cogitationes. Sed veritati interea invigilandum est, modusque servandus, ut certa ab incertis, diem a nocte, distinguamus.

T. BURNET.

ARCHEOL. PHIL. p. 68.

PART I.

T is an ancient Mariner,

IT

And he stoppeth one of three.

"By thy long grey beard and glittering eye, Now wherefore stopp'st thou me?

"The Bridegroom's doors are opened wide, And I am next of kin;

The guests are met, the feast is set:

May'st hear the merry din."

He holds him with his skinny hand, "There was a ship," quoth he.

"Hold off! unhand me, grey-beard loon!" Eftsoons his hand dropt he.

He holds him with his glittering eye-
The Wedding-Guest stood still,
And listens like a three years' child:
The Mariner hath his will.

An ancient Mari-
ner meeteth three
gallants bidden
to a wedding-
feast, and detain-
cth one.

The WeddingGuest is spellbound by the eye of the old seafaring man, and constrained to hear his tale.

The Mariner tells

how the ship

sailed southward

The Wedding-Guest sat on a stone:
He cannot choose but hear;
And thus spake on that ancient man,

The bright-eyed Mariner.

"The ship was cheered, the harbour cleared,

Merrily did we drop

Below the kirk, below the hill,

Below the lighthouse top.

"The sun came up upon the left,

Out of the sea came he!

And he shone bright, and on the right
Went down into the sea.

"Higher and higher every day,

Till over the mast at noon

The Wedding-Guest here beat his breast,
For he heard the loud bassoon.

The Bride hath paced into the hall,
Red as a rose is she;

Nodding their heads before her goes
The merry minstrelsy.

with a good wind and fair weather till it reached the Line.

The WeddingGuest heareth the bridal music; but the Mariner continueth his

tale.