A Ballad.

  Written by Sir Lumley Skeffington, Bart.
  Inscribed to Miss Foote.

  When the frosts of the Winter, in mildness were ending,
    To April I gave half the welcome of May;
  While the Spring, fresh in youth, came delightfully blending
    The buds that are sweet, and the songs that are gay. 
  As the eyes fixed the heart on a vision so fair,
  Not doubting, but trusting what magic was there;
  Aloud I exclaim’d, with augmented desire,
  I thought ’twas the Spring, when In truth, ’tis Maria.

  When the fading of stars, in the regions of splendour,
    Announc’d that the morning was young in the East,
  On the upland I rov’d, admiration to render,
    Where freshness, and beauty, and lustre increas’d. 
  Whilst the beams of the morning new pleasures bestow’d,
  While fondly I gaz’d, while with rapture I glow’d;
  In sweetness commanding, in elegance bright,
  Maria arose! a more beautiful light!

Gentleman’s Magazine.

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UNEXPECTED REPROOF.

The celebrated scholar, Muretus, was taken ill upon the road as he was travelling from Paris to Lyons, and as his appearance was not much in his favour, he was carried to an hospital.  Two physicians attended him, and his disease not being a very common one, they thought it right to try something new, and out of the usual road of practice, upon him.  One of them, not knowing that their patient knew Latin, said in that language to the other, “We may surely venture to try an experiment upon the body of so mean a man as our patient is.”  “Mean, sir!” replied Muretus, in Latin, to their astonishment, “can you pretend to call any man so, sir, for whom the Saviour of the world did not think it beneath him to die?”

IRELAND.

The following is the territorial surface of Ireland:—­

Acres.

Arable land, gardens, meadows, pastures, and marshes 12,125,280

Uncultivated lands, and bogs capable of improvement ... 4,900,000

Surface incapable of any kind of improvement[3]........ 2,416,664
__________
Total of acres                                         19,441,944

[3] Parliamentary Report.

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ROUGE ET NOIR.

  When jovial Barras was the Monarch of France,
  And its women all lived in the light of his glance,
  One eve, when tall Tallien and plump Josephine
  Were trying the question, of which should be Queen,
  Dame Josephine hung on one side of his chair,
  With her West Indian bosom as brown as ’twas bare;
  Dame Tallien as fondly on t’other side hung,
  With a blush that might burn up the spot where she clung. 
  Old Sieyes stalked in; saw my lord at his wine,
  Now toasting the copper-skin, now the carmine;
  Then starting away, cried, “Barras, le bon soir;
  ’Twas for business I came; I leave you Rouge et Noir.”