thrown on all improvements. "The learned languages," will be less prized, as the stock of present inteflect is increased. The times are changed since knowledge was se-cluded from vulgar gaze in the Greek and Latin languages. They resembied the monasteries in which the votaries of learning at its revival kept retired. Now philosophy is

gradually accustoming herself to dweil among men. She is deserting the cloister, and taking up her abode " in swarming cities vast," and... amid "assembled men" in the various walks of life.

We might condescend to receive advantage even from French improvements.

THE BLUSH.

LOVELIER than the roses flush,
More touching than soft music's charms,
Is timid woman's feeling blush,
When aught the conscious soul alarms.

☐ 0 Nature! thou, and thou alone,
Can'st soften, melt us, or refine,
One genuine touch each heart must own;
Th' enchanting blush is truly thine.
'Tis love's own eloquence! which speaks
Directly from, and to the heart,
Portraying on the modest cheeks,
What trembling lips dare not impart.
For love cold reasoning still disdains,
Nor waits for words his power to shew,
But rushes potent through the veins,
Triumphant on the face to glow.

Bright harbinger from feeling's source!
Morn's crimson glow, eve's tints are fine,
We feel, we own their beauty's force,
But ah, we feel them not like thine!

Thou speak'st from moral beauty's store,
Speak'st truth and virtue in the heart,
And sentiments deep in its core,
That language, weak, can ne'er împart.
O glowing thoughts, and feelings warm!
Ye that the sacred blush inspire,
Quit not, O never quit this form,
Lest virtue languish and expire.

Though fortune still has past my door,
I have been bless'd, and yet been poor.
No, riches ne'er shall cause a sigh,
Or bid a tear-drop wet my eye.

Nor o'er past sorrows do I mourn;
Tho' much, alas! this heart has borne,
Should I the painful tale disclose,
Thy gentle breast would feel my woes.
Thy heart for me would heave a sigh,
And tears would dim thy crystal eye.
But time's blest hand has soothed my mind,
I bow to Providence resigned:
Now seldom back I turn my view,
Lest scenes of grief awake anew;
And if they steal o'er memory's eye,

I strive to check the rising sigh.
Put say, Eliza, could'st thou bear,
To see thy only son most dear,
Whole years beneath the grasp of death,
Just struggling to retain his breath.

Would tears not often dim thine eye,
Would'st thou not, if a mother, sigh?

To bear long nights his weary head,
And each approaching minute dread,
To see death's image in that face,
Where dear lost features thou could'st

trace.

To watch that mild benignant eye,
So like his sire's, O thou would'st sigh.

I see that cheek where roses blew,
Now shrunk, and of the lily's hue,
And Oh, past scenes float o'er my brain,
When in some interval of pain

I mark the witty prompt reply;
My heart then heaves a double sigh.

Poor boy! no father's eye meets thine,
No breast to sympathize, save mine;
A trembling asp I stand alone,
None to approve, if duty's done.
Then, ah! no longer wonder why
The widow's lonely heart should sigh.

DELIA.

THE BOY AND THE BUTTERFLY.
Translated from the French.
TWAS in a garden sweet and gay,
A beauteous boy rov'd with delight,
Before him in a rich display
Of colours glittering in the ray,
A butterfly attracts his sight.

From flower to flower the fickle thing
In many a sportive ringlet flies,
And seems so lovely on the wing,
No weariness the chace can bring,
Though vainly the pursuit he tries.
Now on a pink in balmy rest
He hopes to make the prize his own;
Now in a rose's fragrant breast
He thinks its flight he shall arrest,
But, lo! again the wanton's flown.

Yet still the chase no toil can bring;
Though vainly the pursuit he tries;
So tempting seems the lovely thing
Thus seen at distance on the wing,
Still glittering in his ardent eyes.

And now his hopes to tantalize,
Behold it on a myrtle near!
Next on a vi'let bank it lies-
He steals and with his hat he tries
To cover the gay flutterer here.

But all in vain each art and wile
To catch the beauteous playful thing;
Yet still he disregards his toil,
Its beauties still his pains beguile,
Thus seen before him on the wing.

At last the flutterer he espies,
Half buried in a tulip's bell,
Fie grasps the flower in glad surprise-
Within his grasp the insect dies!-
His vain regrets, his tears now tell,
Thus pleasure that gay butterfly,
In prospect chters the mind;
But if too eagerly we clasp,
It perishes within our grasp,
And leaves a sting behind.

DELIA.

MELANCHOLY MOMENTS.

"O madam, there are moments in which we live years: moments that steal the roses

from the cheek of health, and plantest furrows in the brow of care."

WHEN jostling with a world of care,
And struggling to sustain my part,
At times a prey to black despair,
I say, within this aching heart,
"O that I had wings like a dove,
Then would I flee away, and be at rest."

The freezing look by grandeur dealt,
The cold salute of heartless pride,
When, weakly sensitive, I've felt
Within my wounded mind, I've cried
"O that I had wings like a dove,
Then would I flee away, and be at rest.

Or when neglect with blighting power,
Has apathized the sinking heart,
In that forlorn deserted hour,
I've cried, "O life with thee I'd part,
"O that I had wings like a dove,
Then would I flee away, and be at rest,"

But, ah! when musing on the grave,
Where those I love have sunk to rest,
Distracted then in thought I rave,
And sigh within this tortured breast,
"O that I had wings like a dove,
Then would I flee away, and be at rest."

Fancy with all her dreams has fled,
To me the world has nought to give,
Even hope within my heart is dead,
Then wherefore should I wish to live?
"O that I had wings like a dove,
Then would I flee away, and be at rest"

Even now, my mental gloom redoubling,
By care and grief at once oppressed-
To "where the wicked cease from troub

That boasted sway thou'lt here exert in vain,

To the last-beam of life's declining day, Thirsis shall view, unmov'd, thy potent reiga;

Secure to please, while goodness knows to charm,

Fancy and taste delight, or sense and truth inform.

Tyrant!-when from that lip of crimson glow,

Swept by thy chilling wing, the rose shall fly,

When thy rude sigh indents his polish'd brow,

And quenched is all the lustre of his eye, When ruthless age disperses every grace, Each smile that beams from that enchanting face.

Then thro' her stores shall active mem'ry

rove,

Teaching each various charm to bloom a

new,

And still the raptur'd eye of faithful love, Shall bend on Thirsis its delighted view, Still shall he triumph, with resistless pow

er;

Still rule the conquer'd heart, to lifes' re motest hour.

LA VIOLETTE.

TU n'es plus la reine des ficurs,

Rose modele d'inconstance Qu'elle est courte ton existence, Dans un jour tu nais, et tu meurs, Charmante et simple Violette!

Je te prefere en tous les tems,
Ton odeur suave, et parfaite,
Est le Presage du Printems.

La rose paroit au grand jour,
Ainsi que la Coquetterie;
Pour eviter la Flaterie,
Sous l'herbe tu fais ton sejour,
Ton rivale a l'hommage invite,
C'est Venus, avecses appas
Toi, tu ressembles au merite,
Qui perce, et ne se montre pat

Ce qui plait aux yeux, plait au cœur,
Telle est la maxime en usage,
L'homme est leger, il est volage,
Et neglige le vrai bonheur;

A new and expeditious mode of Budding, by Thomas Andrew Knight, esq.

F. R. S.

PARKINSON,

"

in his Paradisus

Londoniensis, which was published in 1629, has observed, that the nursery-men of his days had been so long in the practice of substituting one variety of fruit for another, that the habit of doing so was almost become hereditary amongst them: were we to judge from the modern practice, in some public nurseries, we might suspect the possessors of them, to be the offspring of intermarriages, between the descendants of those alluded to by Parkinson. He has, however, mentioned his very good friend, Master John Tradescant" and "Master John Miller," as exceptions; and similar exceptions are, I believe, to be found in modern days. It must, however, be admitted, that wherever the character of the leaf does not expose the error of the grafter, as in the different varieties of the peach, and nectarine, mistakes will sometimes occur; and therefore a mode of changing the variety, or of introducing a branch of another variety, with great expedition, may possibly be acceptable to many readers of the Horticultural Transactions.

The luxuriant shoots of peach and nectarine trees are generally barren; but the lateral shoots emitted in the same season, by them are often pro ductive of fruit, particularly if treat

BELFAST MAG, NO. XXXII.

ed in the manner recommended by me in the Horticultural Transactions of 1808. In the experiments I have there described, the bearing wood was afforded by the natural buds of the luxuriant shoots; but I thought it probable that such might as readily be afforded by the inserted buds of another variety, under the appropriate management. I therefore, as early in the month of June, of the year 1808, as the luxuriant shoots of my peach trees were grown sufficiently firm to permit the operation, inserted buds of other varieties into them, employing two distinct ligatures to hold the buds in their places. One ligature was first placed above the bud inserted; and upon the transverse section through the bark: the other, which had no farther office than that of securing the bud, was applied in the usual way. As soon as the buds (which never fail under the preceding circumstances) had attached themselves, the ligatures last applied were taken off, but the others were suffered to remain. The passage of the sap upwards was in consequence much obstructed, and the inserted buds began to vegetate strongly in July and when these had afforded shoots about four inches long, the remaining ligatures were taken off; to permit the excess of sap to pass on; and the young shoots were nailed to the wall. Being there properly exposed to light, their wood ripened well, and afford