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tiges I

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tiges I Addressed to a Robin, which for a long time frequented the Ubolr of Bangor Ctthednl, By 00. of the Chorister*. 8tay. sweet enchanting songster, stay, Thy wonted strains awhile And say to whom you chant that lay, Along the vaulted aisle. When wrapt in solemn pra,r we meet, And to our God draw nigh How oft you seem those pray'rs to greet, And waft them to the sky. And when the organ gently swells Its chorda thro' hallowed space; And long as echo faintly dwells, Metliinks thy notes I trace. Then why poor Robin, thus forlorn. Desert the feathcr'd throng. And cease to usher in the mom, With sweetly warbling song 1 Sure some dreail tyrant of thy race, On swift impending wing Drove thee to seek this resting place, Where blissfully you sing. Muse then, bird of BOlitude, At this most awful shrine And offer still with gratitude, Illy praise in strains divine. J. U. 11. 1

A TRANSLATION. I

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A FEW PLAIN HINTS AND SUGGEST…

omperial II

IOUTRAGE ON A LADY IN A RAILWAY…

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