FOUNTAIN OF CARNELO, ITAL Y.

LAND of enchantment! with thine olive bowers,
Thy vine-clad hills, thine ivy-circled towers;
Land, where the pomegranate and orange-bloom
Embalm in beauty many an honour'd tomb;
Clime of the sun! where every fragrant breeze
That stirs thy laurel and acacia trees,

Is laden with the breath of thousand flowers,
That wake in sunshine, and in eve's still hours,
Close their soft petals, and in dewy rest
Sleep fragrantly, till, at the morn's behest,
Light shall awaken them, and cause to rise
Their grateful incense to thy cloudless skies!
Shall I ne'er see thee, save in pictured scene?
Ne'er taste the bliss shed by thy skies serene?
Shall the rich glories of thy purple hills,
Thy golden sun-sets, and thy sparkling rills,-
Shall all thy charms, that by their rich excess,
Make mere existence keenest happiness,
Be nought to me, save as some poet's might,
Or painter's pencil dipp'd in Southern light,
Shall to my raptured ear or loving eye,

Those charms reveal, and bring the distant nigh?
Well! "Blessings on them, and eternal praise,"
Who by their pencil or their deathless lays,
Thus aid the soul to spread her soaring wings,
And rise above mere sordid selfish things;
What though there be a flight, far, far, above
The highest, that the purest, deepest love
Of nature's beauties ever yet could reach,
Higher than art can soar, or poet teach,
Unless led upward by a Power Divine
Deigning upon the darken'd mind to shine,-
Still is the soul, if waken'd to the love
Of outward beauty, gifted from above;
And still do they who teach her thus to rise,
Stand high above the merely worldly-wise,

Whose lessons point but to the selfish sense,
Which aims no higher than to hoard up pence.
I love thee, then, fair Italy! and see

In thy delights, thy rich intensity

Of light and loveliness, a proof and sign

Of His beneficence, whose Hand Divine,

Spread thy rich plains, bade thy glad fountains flow,
Tinged thy blue heavens, and made thy flowerets blow.
But, beauteous as thou art to mortal sight,
Is there no spot that mars thy visage bright?
Art thou as lovely to the mental eye
As thou art passing fair externally?

Hold'st thou thy Christian faith pure as of yore,
When Paul proclaim'd it on thy sunny shore?
Alas! that where all earthly things are bright,
The things of heaven should be as dark as night!
Bright land! thine earlier, purer, Faith regain,
And thine old glories may be thine again.

DINNER-PARTY AT A MANDARIN'S HOUSE.

"These entertainments are encumbered with ceremony: the master of the feast drinks to his company, and they to him; he even eats to them; and his every movement is noticed and respected. Refusal of an invitation is unpardonable, unless in case of sickness, or the demands of public duty; and under such circumstances, the absentee's portion is sent to his house with a pomp that is utterly ludicrous."-Fisher's China Illustrated.

BY THE HON. MRS. NORTON.

WHEN an admiral takes a great enemy's fleet,

And our flag is triumphant-which might have been beat:
When a general, fighting in countries afar,

Sends home an account of victorious war;

When a friend, from whose kindness it grieves us to sever,

Departs for long years-or it may be for ever:
When a railway-enchanter succeeds in each scheme,
As though 'twere the course of a fortunate dream,
And nothing his plans or his courage can damp,
But he seems to be rubbing Aladdin's old lamp:
When a member contents his constituents well,
And proves that returning him was not "a sell :"