And as the moon rose higher in the sky,
Casting a mimic day on all around,

Lighting dim garden paths, through branches high,
That cast their chequered shadows on the ground,
Light maidens, dancing with elastic bound,
Like fairy revellers, in one place was seen;
And gentle friends were slowly pacing, where
The dark, thick laurels formed a bowery screen;
And merry children, like the moonlight fair,

With their wild, pealing laughter, filled the perfumed air.

Another hour,-and in a lighted room

Where glorious pictures lined the lofty wall,
They sate in social ease,—no brow of gloom,
No saddened, downcast eye, that might recal
Sorrowful musing, dimmed the festival.

It was in honour of a gallant youth,

Those friends were met, the friends he dearest loved, All wishing he were there; and well, in sooth,

Might his gray father unto tears be moved,

Listening his grateful praise,—his tears were unreproved.

Her bright eyes sparkling with delight and love,
Told his young sister of his travel wide,
Of pleasant sojourn in some palmy grove,
And Indian cities in their gorgeous pride;
Of desert isles, where savage tribes abide,
And glorious shores and regions of old fame:

Then were his trophies from all lands displayed,—
Belt, baracan, and bow of wondrous fame,

High, nodding crest, and deadly battle blade,

And birds of curious note in glittering plumes arrayed.

And, in her joyful phrase, she told how he,

Ere their next meeting, o'er the wave would come,

Like a glad spirit, to partake their glee,

And cast delight and interest round his home:

Gaily she told, how sitting in that room,

When the next harvest-moon lit up the pane,

He should himself, his marvellous tales relate ;

Alas! encircled by the Indian main,

That night beneath a tamarind tree he sate,

Heart-sick with thoughts of home, and pondering on his fate.

The heavy sea broke thundering on the shore,
The dark, dark night had gathered in the sky,
And from the desert mountains came the roar

Of ravening creatures, and a wild, shrill cry
From the scared night-birds slowly wheeling by ;
And there he lay beneath the spreading tree,
Feverish and faint, and over heart and brain
Rushed burning love, and sense of misery,

And wild, impatient grief, and longings vain
Within his blessed home to be at rest again.

Another year-and the relentless wave

Had washed away the white bones from the shore; And, mourning for his son, down to the grave

Had gone the old man with his locks all hoar ;The household festival was held no more: And when the harvest-moon came forth again, O'er the dark pines, in red autumnal state, Her light fell streaming through the window pane Of that old room, where his young sister sate With her down-drooped head, and heart all desolate. Winter's Wreath, 1830.

CTOBER.

This month like the preceding, bore successive titles in the Roman calendar. The senate gave it the name of Faustinas, in compliment to Faustina the wife of the Emperor Antoninus Pius: Domitian called it Domitianus, and Commodus named it Invictus, from the skill he displayed in the public games. Previous to these changes, however, it was called October, which it still retains, from the words Octo (eight,) and Imber, as it was the eighth month in the Alban calendar. It became the tenth in the time of Numa. The Saxons called it Wynmonath, signifying wine, or vintage.

Remarkable Days.

1.—ST. REMIGIUS,

Or St. Remi, a celebrated archbishop of Rheims, born of illustrious family, and heir to great wealth. He was raised to the see of Rheims about the year 460, distinguished himself by his learning and virtue, converted and baptised king Clovis, and died in the year 533. He was the author of a History of Rheims, and other works.

6.-ST. FAITH.

A virgin martyr of Aquitain, who suffered martyrdom under Dacian, about the year 290.

9.-ST. DENYS,

Or Dionysius, the Areopagite, was converted to Christianity by St. Paul. He was one of the judges of the court of Areopagus, but afterwards bishop of Athens, where he suffered martyrdom in defence of the gospel. He is the patron saint of France, in

honor of his having been the first who is known to have preached the gospel in that country.

11.-OLD MICHAELMAS DAY.

Still observed in many places as the end of one year and beginning of another, in hiring servants. 13.-TRANSLATION OF KING EDWARD THE CONFESSOR.

A festival instituted by the Romish church to commemorate the removal of the king's bones, or relics. He ascended to the throne of England in 1042, and greatly improved the laws and condition of the country.

13.-1822.—ANTONIO CANOVA DIED.

THE YOUTHFUL DAYS OF CANOVA.

By Catherine G. Gordon.

He dwelt in an elysium of bright thoughts.
That, lavish as the vernal wealth of May,
Woke in his gifted fancy. His world was
A pastoral valley, bounded by the Alps,
Whose snowy peaks, invading upper heaven,
Woo the soft splendours of th' Italian sky.
Unknown to him the realms that lay beyond,
Save in romantic legend or wild song;
Records of olden time, whence he might catch
Glimpses of busier life. Enough for bliss
That calm retreat, sequestered and obscure,
Where his heart revelled in the first warm gush
Of sympathy, unsullied by mistrust.
Supremely blest, the young Canova saw,
Swifter than dreams, the morn of life glide on,
Beneath the shelter of his humble home:
And if his ardent and aspiring gaze

Would pierce the dim of distance, and o'erpass
The beautiful horizon girdling in

His circumscribed existence, Hope lay there,
A bright Aurora, heralding the Sun.

Unloosed by him the rude and boisterous sports
Of thoughtless childhood; even then his mind
Nursed in its sanctuary the expanding germ
Of future greatness, treasuring in its depths
A secret, incommunicable joy.

The graceful art, whose early votary
Antonio was (like Grecian youth trained up
To serve high altars,) pastime and delight,
And his soul's pure idolatry, became.

What though despondency might cast a gloom
Of transient langour o'er his dawning powers,—
Offspring of thwarted efforts, that appeared
Weak to the grand conceptions of the brain-
His genius, soaring on elastic wing,

Rose from that slight depression with a zeal
Proportionate to the exalted goal:

Visions of beauty filled his waking dreams:
Imaginations mystic glances caught

E'en then of those fair forms his hand mature
Created into perfect excellence.

To him all things thronging the path of life
Spoke in a loftier language. The perfume
Of flowerets opening to the Ausonian air,
Pour'd on his keener sense revealings rich.
The high o'erarching forest, through whose glades
The shy fawn bounded, like a shape of lightness,—
The breezy slopes, whereon the mantling vines
Hung their green garlands-Nature's myriad stores,
Exhaustless as infinity, were all

A theme of rapture and of wonderment.
Instinct with poetry, his spirit was

An instrument, amidst whose golden chords
Music lay slumbering, waiting but the touch
Of skill to bring forth her enchanting tones
In fullest harmony. How oft would he,
When o'er the woods of Asolano fell

The shades of evening, watch the roseate clouds
Floating along the distant Alpine range,
Upon whose stainless summits day-light still
Reign'd in her glory! How oft would he gaze,
Until the emotions labouring in his breast,
With power resistless, burst forth from his lips
In some impassioned vow, that he might mount
A gilded beam of Sol's receding car,
Or sail upon the wings of fleetest winds;
"Till, mingling with the ethereal elements,
The sense of his mortality subdued,
He might become a radiant seraph there,
The inhabitant of heaven! Supremely blest,
In those romantic solitudes he pass'd
The years of boyhood, that in after-life
To him were tablets of memorial fond.