I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver,

Of my whole course of love; what drugs, what charms,
What conjuration; and what mighty magic,

(For fuch proceeding I am charg'd withal)

I won his daughter with.

Her father lov'd me, oft invited me ;
Still queftion'd me the story of my life,

From year to year; the battles, fieges, fortunes,
That I have past.

I ran it through, ev'n from my boyish days,
To th' very moment that he bade me tell it.

Wherein I spoke of most disastrous chances,
Of moving accidents by flood and field;

Of hair breadth 'fcapes in th'imminent deadly breach;
Of being taken by the infolent foe,

And fold to flavery; of my redemption thence,

And with it all my travel's history :

Wherein of antres vaft, and deserts wild,

Rough quarries, rocks, and hills, whofe heads touch heav'n
It was my hent to speak.-All these to hear
World Defdemona feriously incline.

But ftill the houfe-affairs would draw her hence,
Which ever as she could with hafte dispatch,
She'd come again, and with a greedy ear
Devour up my discourse: which I obferving,
Took once a pliant hour, and found good means
To draw from her prayer of earnest heart,
That I would all my pilgrimage dilate;
Whereof by parcels fhe had fomething heard,
But not diftinctly. I did confent,

And often did beguile her of her tears,
When I did speak of some distressful stroke

That

That my youth fuffer'd. My ftory being done,

She

gave me for my pains a world of fighs.

She swore, in faith, 'twas strange, 'twas paffing ftrange; 'Twas pitiful, 'twas wond'rous pitiful

She wifh'd fhe had not heard it- -yet fhe wish'd
That Heav'n had made her fuch a man :-she thank'd me.

And bade me, if I had a friend that lov'd her,

I should but teach him how to tell my story,
And that would woo her. On this hint I spake;
She lov'd me for the dangers I had past ;
And I lov'd her, that fhe did pity them,

This only is the witchcraft I have us’d.

SHAKSPEARE,

NOW

С НА Р. ХХ.

ELIZ A.

OW stood ELIZA on the wood-crown'd height,
O'er Minden's plain, fpectatrefs of the fight;

Sought with bold eye amid the bloody ftrife

Her dearer self, the partner of her life;
From hill to hill the rushing hoft pursued,

And view'd his banner, or believ'd fhe view'd.
Pleased with the distant roar, with quicker tread
Fast by his hand one lifping boy she led;

And one fair girl amid the loud alarm

Slept on her kerchief, cradled by her arm;

While round her brows bright beams of Honour dart,
And Love's warm eddies circle round her heart.
-Near and more near the intrepid Beauty prefs'd,
Saw through the driving smoke his dancing creft,

Heard

Heard the exulting fhout, "they run! they run !"
"Great GOD!" fhe cried, "He's fafe! the battle's won!"
-A ball now hiffes through the airy tides,

(Some Fury wing'd it, and fome Demon guides!)
Parts the fine locks, her graceful head that deck,
Wounds her fair ear, and finks into her neck;
The red ftream, iffuing from her azure veins,
Dyes her white veil, her ivory bofom ftains.
"Ah me!" he cried, and, finking on the ground,
Kifs'd her dear babes, regardless of the wound;

"Oh, cease not yet to beat, thou vital urn!

"Wait, gushing Life, oh, wait my Love's return!"Hoarse barks the wolf, the vulture screams from far! "The angel, Pity, fhuns the walks of war !

"Oh, fpare ye war-hounds, spare their tender age !—"On me, on me," she cried, " exhaust your rage !”— Then with weak arms her weeping babes carefs'd, And fighing hid them in her blood-ftain'd veft.

From tent to tent the impatient warrior flies, Fear in his heart, and frenzy in his eyes;

Eliza echoes through the canvas walls;

Quick through the murmuring gloom his footfteps tread,
O'er groaning heaps, the dying and the dead,
Vault o'er the plain, and in the tangled wood,
Lo! dead ELIZA weltering in her blood!-

-Soon hears his liftening fon the welcome founds,
With open arms and sparkling eyes he bounds :-
"Speak low," he cries, and gives his little hand,
"ELIZA fleeps upon the dew-cold fand;
"Poor weeping Babe with bloody fingers press'd,
"And tried with pouting lips her milkless breast ;

Alas!

"Alas! we both with cold and hunger quake-
"Why do you weep ?-Mama will soon awake.”
"She'll wake no more!" the hopeless mourner cried,
Upturn'd his eyes, and clasp'd his hands, and figh'd;
Stretch'd on the ground awhile entranc'd he lay,
And prefs'd warm kiffes on the lifeless clay;

And then upfprung with wild convulfive start,
And all the Father kindled in his heart;

"Oh, Heavens !" he cried, " my firft rafh vow forgive!
"Thefe bind to earth, for these I pray to live!"—
Round his chill babes he wrapp'd his crimson veft,
And clafp'd them sobbing to his aching breast.

DARWIN.

CHA P. XXI.

THE MORALIZER CORRECTED.

A

A TALE.

Hermit (or if 'chance you hold

That title now too trite and old)
A man, once young, who lived retired
As Hermit could have well defired,
His hours of study clofed at laft,
And finish'd his concise repast,
Stoppled his crufe, replaced his book
Within its customary nook,

And, ftaff in hand, fet forth to fhare
The fober cordial of sweet air,

Like Ifaac, with a mind applied
To serious thought at evening-tide.
Autumnal rains had made it chill,
And from the trees that fringed his hill

Shades

Shades flanting at the close of day

Chill'd more his elfe delightful way.
Distant a little mile he spied

A western bank's still funny fide,
And right toward the favour'd place
Proceeding with his nimbleft pace,
In hope to bask a little yet,

Juft reach'd it when the fun was set.

Your Hermit, young and jovial Sirs!
Learns fomething from whate'er occurs-
And hence, he faid, my mind computes
The real worth of man's pursuits
His object chofen, wealth or fame,
Or other fublunary game,
Imagination to his view

Prefents it deck'd with ev'ry hue

That can feduce him not to spare

His pow'rs of beft exertion there,
But youth, health, vigour to expend
On fo defirable an end.

E're long approach Life's evening shades,
The glow that Fancy gave it fades ;
And, earn'd too late, it wants the grace
Which firft engag'd him in the chase.

True, anfwer'd an angelic guide,

Attendant at the fenior's fide-
But whether all the time it coft
To urge the fruitlefs chafe be loft,
Must be decided by the worth
Of that which call'd his ardour forth.
Trifles purfu'd, whate'er th' event,
Muft caufe him fhame or discontent ;

A vicious