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wbose hearts overflow with tender-' views scorns to use the language of ness, and whore gentle busons are romance He will treat you as a the seats of pity and compassion, woman of sense who despista fiala read this, and retlect to what a state tery, and not as one whom he pure your gardless slx are liable; and ships as the idol oi the day. Think, shun, oh! shun the artful ilatterer's then, how unhappy is wonal; cne wily snares, whose soít insinuating false step for ever ruins her: while tale so often betrays you, and pais man, on the contrary, triumphsin his even innocence and all its meek- perfidy; and the world co:intenances eyed train to rout. Know that, to the barbarous executioner, while it gratify a momentary passion, a vil- condimns the innocent victim. lain has often made ibe innocent With the following stanzas of wretched for life, and distressed a Guldsmith I conclude


walk: family that had nothing but indus- 'When lovely woman stoops to felis, try for their protection and honesty And finds, too late, that men betray; pr their portion.

What charm can soothe her melancholy,

What art can wash her guilt away? • Were you, ye fair, but cautious whom ye

• The only art her guilt to cover,

To bide her shame from 'every eye,
So many of your sex would not in vain
Of broken vows and faith ess men complain.'

To give repentance to her lover,

And wring his bosom---is to die!" I cannot help dropping a friendly tear while I reflect to what a sud situation many are brought; their

O DRAMATIC SOLILOQUY. reputation, peace, and happiness gone

THOUGH a soliloquy in the per. for ever; lost in the estimation of turbation of passion is undoubtedly their friends and acquaintance, de- natural, and indeed not unfrequent in prived of domestic comfort, and at real life, yet Congreve, who has himlast b.come a prey to repentance self penned several good soliloquies, and sorrow. Think, dear readers! grants, perhaps with more candour how can you pass each lingering than truth, that they are unnatural ; hour when corroding thoughts dis. and he only pretends to justify them tub şour peaceful mon ents! Then from necessity. Thishedoes in his delisten put to the delusing tale oi dieation of the Double Dealer, in the the spoilt man, lest you imbibe the following words :- When a man, noxiuus (filavia of a poisonous va- ' in a soliloquy, reasons with himself, pour, which creates dissipation, and and pros and cons, and weighs all ends in

and repentance. his designs, we ought not to imagine How applicable here are the lines of that this man either talks to us or to Young!

hirnsulf: he is only thinking, and Self flatter'd, unexperieneed, high in liore, thinking (frequently) such matter When young, with snguine hope and stream- as it were mexcusable folly in him 19

We out our cable, launch into the world,

speak. But because we are conAnd iond.y dreams cuch wind and star our

cealed spectators of the plot in friend;

agitation, and ihe poet finds it neAll in some darling enterprise embark’d: But where is lie, can rathom its cvcnt!'

cessary to let us know the whole

mystery of his contrivance, he is I Aarter myself what I have ad- willing to inform us of this person's vanced may not be offensive to the thoughts, and to that end is forced mind of any, but rather approved to make use of the expedient of and aitended to ihan neglected and speech, no other berter way being yet despised: and be assurua, ihe man invented for the communication of who approaches you with honourable thought.'




DAY, 1807.

Be hush'd awhile each ruder sound,

While Britain's yrateful voice
Bids all her echoing vales resound

Tie monarch of her choice.
Though younil the tyrint's hated throne
Arnd legions form an iron zone,

They cannot blunt guilts scorpion sting;
While virtie's screa shield is spread
O'er Grorge's hļav'ı protected head

The Parent and the king.

STANZA From an wfinished Pormy on the Influence

BY HENRY JAMES PYE, ESQ. P. L. STILL does the trumpet's brazen throat

Pour forth a martial sound, Still do the notes of battle foat

In wariike clangour round;
Nor rural pipe, nor past'ral lay,
In peaceful descant hail the day

To grateful BRITAIN ever dear:
The thunder of embattled plains,
And shouting conquest's choral strains,

Barst on the list'ning ear.
Yer while Bellona's iron car

Whirls o'er th' ensanguin'd plains,
Mid Hyperborean climes afur

Stern war terrific reigns;
While, with colossal power endow'd,
The ruthless minister of blood

Calis to his scatter'd naval host-
'Go forch, and bid the bolts of fate
On Britain's trembling harhours wait,

Shut commerce from her cuast.'
Behold, the sov'reign qneen of isles,

The empress of the waves,
Meeting the vaunt with scornful smiles,

The empty menace braves;
And see on Plata's sea-hroad stream
Her banners wave, her brivit arms gleam;

While, ploughing seas of classic fame, Nile yields once more to Albion's pow’rs, And Alexandria vails her tow'rs

To George's mightier name.
Firm are the sons that Britain Icads

To combat on the main,
And frm her hardy race that treads

In steady march the plain.
And proudly may her bards record
The victor anın, the victor sword,

That drives the foe from ocean's tide; And loudly too, with fond acclain, Chant trophid Maide's deathless fame

With military pride.

of triation. B: W. M.T.

SWEET child of fancy! Fiction! thou hast

pow'r To move each various passion which we

know; Canst bid the brow with imag'd sorrow's

low'r, Canst make the breast with imag'd plea

bures glow. At thy command the tears of pity flow, Or havgard cerror 'palis the drooping soul;

Yet seill we listen to thy tale of woe With anxious ear; we court thy wild con

troul, And hail shee deck'd as mirth, or wrapi

in mis’ry's stole!


By W.M.T.

GRANT me, kind Heav'n! 'uis all I now

desire, A stil retreat far from the noisy throng; Where, unmolested, I may strike the lyre, And form my rude and carly warbled



Safe from detraction's venom-pointed With chalky-white cheek, in windinga tongue,

sheet clad, Free from the thoughts ambition's vot’ries To wander with fiends o'er the green.

fire, Where calınly wandering, the woods 'Twas dark as the womb of the grave, save

when shed among From the world's joyless scenes I may

The moon thro' a black cloud its ray; retire!

Or glinumer'd where fed", on the limbs of These are the dreams of hope--but ah!

the dead,
they fade

The blood-hound and wild-dog so grey.
Swift, at the touch of stern reality;
And soon again do life's dull cares invade,

• 'Twas, O stranger! a night that might strike

with affignt Its heart-corroding thoughts, and misery. Op'easing dreams, by fancy's pow'r ye're Bue Egbert sate clasping his damsel so

The soul of the warrior most bold;
And falsc as sun-beams in a wintry sky!

Whilst heedless the tempest-fiend howld.

· Where yet stands yon window the lovers YOUNG EGBERT AND GAY

were placid,

And thus Egbert in extacy cried,
A MODERN LEGENDARY BALLAD. Whilse he press'd in his arms the fait
By W. M. I.

Rosabell's waist, - They whose sight such dreary dreams

“O when shall I call thee my bride!" engross, With their own visions oft astonish'd droop.'

“O tell me, fair maid, when thou'lt be my COLLINS.

dear bride ;

O bless me, and name the bright day; "O WHY are the halls of yon castle laid For the moments of transport are few, but waste?

its tide
And why moulder its turrets of stone? Flows swiftly, too swiftly away."
For warder a fairer sure never hath grac'd,
This wild heath with moss over-grown.'

“ O press me not, Egbert, nor think that I'm

cold," O stranger, O stranger,' the warder replied Thus answer'd the gay Rosabell, • This castle, by magical spell,

“ That yet from thy wishes my hand I Now moulders; to punish the falsehood and

withold; pride

How I love God only can tell! Of its lady, the gay Rosabeil.'

“And I call on that God that I now speak the And who,' cried the stranger,

truth, Rosabell,

That I never lov'd any but you : Who thus feels for her falsehood and Nor the riches of age, nur the beauty of youth, pride?

Shall make me to Egbert untrue.
And how, by the power of magical spell,
Are the castic's fair turreis destroy'd ?

“ I swear by that God, that none e'er on this

breast • stranger, the gay Rosabell was a maid, Hath imprinted the kisses of love; Than whom fairer none ever was seen;

I swear by that God that no youth ever For the soft smile of love round her lips

pressid sweetly play'd,

These lips with the transports of love. And languish'd her lovely blue een:

I swear by that God"-Cried a voice, “O *And dearly young Egbert he lov'd Rosabell,

for bear!" Who as deariy his love did return;

The maid turn'din terror around; And oft on her beauties enruptur'd he'd When lo! on her neck, with a hideous stare; dwell,

A spectre his grisly arms bound.

was say

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His heart it was piered, yet in agony beat,

ODE And wide gap'd his throat a wound;.

TO AMBITION. And his fætid breath fill'd, with a fev'rish heat,

By W. M. T. The rooms of the castle around.

HENCE Ambition! demon, hence! "O Rosabell, Rosabell," murmur'd the

O'er me thou hast no pow'r; sprite,

Hence then, nor tempt me! demon, henne! "When I left you to seek Palestine,

Thy charms are little recompence You gave me such kisses of rapt'rous

For many a troubled hour. delight, And swore you would ever be mine.

Too well I know the wily art " O Rosabell, Rosabell! then too you call'd With which thou chain'st the youthful heart, On that God for to witness your truth,

And tempe'st to tread thy thorny ways; And swore none e'er printed his kiss on your I know as fa:s: thy prospects glare breast,

As Mits ihe meteor through the air, and swore by none other your lips had been With quick and transient blaze.

press'd, Nor by warrior, by eld, nor by youth;

When Splendour 'midst thy throng unfuris

Her gaudy banner to the wind; And you callid on that God, that, if false to And Honour, pointing to thy sky-crown'd Wur vows,

steep, You might ne'er to the altar be led,

Maddens with potent spells the brain; But clasp in your arms sonte grim corse for They see not where, in Mis'ry's chasm deep, your spouse,

Her victima Disappointment hurls; And your bed be the bed of the dead.

They see not, past thy noisy train, "Now Rosbeil, Rosabell, false are your vows,

Despair and Frenzy lurk behind!
And you'il ve er to the altar beled,
But clasp in your arms my grim corse for your

Thou bidst the hero's breast with ardour

glow, spouse, And your bed be the bed of the dead.

And onward press unknown to fear,

Unknown to Pity's trembling rear; "I sough: Palestine, in the battle was slain, Seeking thv path thro' hosts of slais, But, Rosabell, you knew it not;

And bounding o'er the gory plain, But was struck with the riches and glitter so As Glory calls him still pursuing. vain,

Calous to tender Mercy's suing, Of Egbert the lovely, the wealthy young On'vard still thou bidst him steer; siain,

'Till, staid amid his bold career, And

your vows to a warrior forgot. He falls-he groans and sinks beneath the " Then come to your bed, to the bed of the

deadly blow, dead, And clasp in your arms my grim corse :

Prompted by thee the tyrant grasps at pow's,

Nor bears his suff'ring country's moans, You shall eat at your wedding the penitent's Nor hears the thousand thousand groans bread,

Which bid hiin liberty restore; And drink of the cup of remorse."

Faction's clam'rous, troubled band, *The grey cock crow'd, away he strode,

And dire Oppression blast the land, And Rosabell ne'er was seen more:

"Till Justice hears the nation's cries, Young Egbert he left not the dreary abode, And 'neath her lifted axe che mighty feio But senseless he sunk on the floor.

dies. * The morning broke, the youth awoke, For thee the poet wastes his youth "O Rosabell!” faintly he cried,

Amid the night's chill gloom: " With ghastly look, the fiend has took

For thee he scorns the listiess joys My lovely, lovely bride."

Wnich laughing Pleasure's vot'ries prizee 'Long was he sad, and ther: grew mad,

And seeks to triumph o'er the tomb; And then young Egbert he died;

But ch! he feels the freezing haud Since when each e'en, by hands unseen,

Of proud Contempt-his hopes disperse, This castle has been destroy'd.'

And Pemury's haggard spectre-band "O warder, warder," the stranger cried,

His tender bosom pierce : “Tis a deadly tale you tell;

See his fiery eye-bails roll!

Frenzy marks him for her own ;And long shall I think on this casele destroy'd, Now, sunk in grief, his noble soul To punish the falsehood, to punish the pride

Manch fond vision foc.




HOW slowly pass the redious house,

Ti vouth 1 la:c away;
Hovrager pants this a ixious heart,

To nail the joyous way,
When, fred from each ahstracting care,

Vy Chares shall hither speed,
To her who shares his fondest love,

Of all her hopes the meed.
If love, the purest love, can bless,

In this our mortal state,
Serenely shall each moment pass,

And happy be our fate.
Ah! then, my love, detraction's tongue,

To you no pangs should give:
This grateful heart is ali your onli,

Secure of yours I live.
Malice shall all ber arts employ

In vain to injure me:
S:ill pov’rless w li her arrows fall;

They rob me not of thee. MARIA.


HOW sweet to rcre at early morn,

To scelt the balony gule,
To view the blesses on the thorn,

Anjiread the iloxiy vale.
When the spect sonsters of the grore

Their marin hans prepare,
Wach, tun'd to gatiti se and love,

Their Iwaker's pow's declare.
Ye: still the joys which then I prove

Would lose their art to charm,
Did not the generous youth I love

Lean fondly on iny arm.
So blest, I know not any care,

Nor sorrow-but by nanie :
The fondest and the happiest pair-

Our pleasures all the same. Sometimes, beside the babbling brook,

We lure the finny tribe.
I first prepare the dang'rous hook,

And Florio throws the bribe.

And now dark Melancholy wears his frame;

In deep despondency he sinks, And owns no more the magic of a name.

Hence then, Ambition! demon, hence!

Haunt no more my humble bow'r; Too well I know thy pl a acons lead

To many a troubicd hour !


SOFT Night, with mysteries replets,

Nowy sheds her silent ters;
And Contemp atien holds her seat

Amid the starry spheres.
Pale Cynthia shed, her lunar beam,

A mild and friendly ray;
And on the gently-giiding stream

Diffuses mimic day.
While, peeping from the blue expanse,

Each star puts forts its light;
Wiose soft'ning radiance doth enhance

The beauties of the night.
Kind sieep now soothes the wearied brcast,

And ev'ry breeze is stil; Old Boreas too is lollid to rest

Echind the northern hill.

Bold Fancy har her fight begun

With airy pinians spread ;
And Meditation warders on,

By god-like Reason led.
While I behold the beauteous scene,

1 What wonders meet my eyes ; Whether I scrutinise the pain,

Or read the ample skies.
Struck with surprise at ev'ry view,

How plasd am I to find,
At ev'ry turn, still something new

To gratity the mind.

Thus Nature's mysteries to trace

Surely old Time beguiles; For lo!'Aurora shew's her face,

The rosy morning smiles.

Bright Phæbus darts his infant ray

Across the si very plain;
And hark! the harbinger of day

Begins his matin strain.

At eve, together still, we rove

The nightingale to hear, Who sweetly chants the notes of love,

So trenulously clear.

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