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Boisrobert.-' The Abbé was im- voured to diver the execution of mediately sent for, and the disorder her purpose, she said, 'You may went ott.
make my death more painful, but you cannot prevent it;' and dashing her head against a wall fell sense
less on the ground. Upon her reAnecdotes of ARRIA, the ROMAN covery she calmly said, " I told you HEROINE.
that I would find a difficult road
to death, if you hindered me from ARRIA, a Roman lady, dis, obtaining an easy one. When her tinguished by her fortitude and husband was ordered to destroy conjugal affection, was the wife of himself, Arria, perceiving his heCiecina Päetus, a man of consular sitation, plunged a dagger in her dignity, who died in the 42d year breast, and then presented it, coof the Christian xra. Pliny the vered with blood, to her husband, younger, in one of his epistles, exclaiming, in words celebrated has preserved several anecdotes of by the ancients, who did not enterher, some of which are well de- tain that horror of self-murder serving to be recorded. Her hus- which Christians have derived from band, and her son who was a very better principles : Pætus! it is amiable and promising youth, were not painful. Martial's epigram both seized at the same time with on this subject is well known, but a dangerous disorder. The son it has been remarked that he has died, but the mother concealed given an ingenious turn to the the distressing event from the sick expression which injures its noble father; and whenever she appeared simplicity in his presence, assumed a cheerful countenance, and answered his in
• Casta suo gladium cum traderet Arria
Palo, quiries respecting their son with so
Quam de risceribus trarerat ipsa siis, much composure and serenity, that Si qua fides, vulnus, quod feci, non she even prevented the suspicion
dolet, inquit, of his death. When her husband Sed quod tu facies, hoc mihi, Pate, was apprehended, in consequence dolet.' of having joined Scribonianus in a
When Arria pull'd the dagger from her rebellion against the emperor Clau
side, dius, and was conveyed by sea to Thus to her consort spoke th' illustrious Rome, Arria wished to accompany
bride : him in the same vessel, but being The wound I gave myself I do not refused, she hired a fishing boat
I die by that which Patus must receive. and followed him. Having arrived
Tatler, No.72 at Rome, she determined to die with Putus; and to the remons Arria, the daughter, who was trance of her son-in-law Thrasea, married to Paetus Thrasea, prowho asked her-Would you wish posed to imitate this example of that your daughter should accom- her mother, when her husband was
BY W. DIMOND
THE MARINER'S DREAM. A father bends o'er him with looks of
delight: His cheek is impearl'd with a mother's
warın tear ; IN slumbers of midnight the sailor boy And the lips of the boy in a love-kiss lay,
unite His hammock swung loose at the
With the lips of the maid whom his sport of the wind,
bosom holds dear. But watch-worn and weary, his cares
The heart of the sleeper beats high in And visions of happiness danc'd o'er
his breast, his mind.
Joy quickens his pulse-all his hard
ships seem o'er; He dreamt of his house, of his dear na And a murinur of happiness steals thro' tive bowers,
his rest And pleasure that waited on life's "O God! thou hast blest me, I ask merry morn
for no more.' While Memory stood sideways, half
Ah! whence is that Aame which now cover'd with flowers,
bursts on his eye? And restored every rose, but secreted
Ah! what is that sound which now its thorn.
larums his ear? Then Fancy her magical pinions spread 'Tis the lightning's red glare, painting wide,
hell on the sky! And bade the young dreamer in ec 'Tis the crashire of thunders, the stacy rise ;
groan of the sphere! Now far, far behind himn the green wa He springs from his hainmock-he flies ters glide,
in the deck, And the cot of his forefathers blesses
Amazement confronts him' with his eyes.
images dire, The jessamine clambers in flower o'er Wild winds and mad waves drive the
Unseen hands of spirits are ringing his The pipe of the shepherd too gladdens knell,
ihe gale: And the death angel flaps his broad Alas! but I hear not the voice of my wings o'er the wave!
love. O sailor boy! woe to thy dream of de- The lilies appear in their fairest array;
To the vallies the woodbines a fraIn darkness dissolves the gay frost
grance impart; work ot' bliss
The roses the pride of eir blushes disWhere now is the picture that Fancy touch'd bright,
Alas! but I meet not the nymph of Thy parent's fond pressure, and love's
honey'd kiss ? O sailor boy! sailor boy! never again Go, shepherds, and bring the sweet Shall hoine, love, or kindred, thy
wanderer here, wishes repay;
The boast of her sex, and delight of
the swains ; Unbless'd and unhonoured, down deep in the main
Go, zephyr, and whisper this truth in Full many a score fathom, thy frame shall decay.
That the PLEASURES with JULIA are
fled from thic plains. No tomb shall e'er plead to remembrance for thee,
If thus to the maid thou my wishes Or redeem form or frame from the declare, merciless surge,
To the cot she has left she will quickly But the white foam of wave shall thy return; winding-sheet be,
Too soft in her bosom to give us despair, And winds, in the midnight of win That sooner would sigh than anotaar's ter, thy dirge!
should morn. On beds of green sca-flower thy limbs
shall be laid, Around thy white bones the red coral
TO JULIA Of thy fair yellow locks threads of am
ber be made, And every part suit to thy mansion below.
FROM her whom ev'ry heart must Days, months, years and ages shall cir
love, cle away,
And ev'ry ere with wonder see; And still ihe vast waters above thee
My sad, my lifeless steps removeshall roll:
Ah! were she fair alone for 20e! Earth loses thy pattern for ever and aye
In vain to solitudes I Ay, Oh! sailor boy! ailor boy! peace to
To bid her forin from mein'ry part ; That form still dwells on mem'ny's eye,
And roots its beauties in nry heart. In ev'ry rose that decks the vales,
I see her cheeks pure blush appear; SONG.
And when the lark the morning hails,
'Tis Julia's voice salutes my ear. O SUMMER, thy presence gives warmth Thus let me rove the world around, to the vale,
Whatever beauty's charm can beast, The song of the warbler enlivens the Or sooth the soul with sweetest sound,
Must paint the idol I have lost. groves,
shall grow i
BY THE SAME.
thy soul !
BY DR. WALCOT.
BY ANNA SEWARD.
rowed rays :
Now thrice has Phæbus pass'd each Aadressed to the Young Roscius.
duteous sign, Since first thy talents met our won
dering gaze; E'EN as the sun, beneath the line, Still in augmenting lustre seen them comes forth,
shine, Where no preclusive glimmerings Still scoruing, like himself, all lor
warn the night, Strips her dense mantle from the sabled Seen the expansion of thy fair renown, earth,
Thy powers, tlıy graces, rising with And pours himself at once in floods
thy years, of light.
So brignt thy morn, what splendours So on our eyes, young Day Star, didst wait thy noon! thou break,
What trains of light, eclipsing all thy In dazzling effluence, and resistless peers! charnı;
When youth and Art's proud summit Ere in thy soul those passions cou'd thou shalt gain, awake,
Passions, that now are but illusive That look'd and breathod, and light deem'd; end from thy form.
Then shall their empire in thy heart atWe saw them, at thy magic call, appear,
tain, Tho' but till then to manhood only Then be, what long by miracle they known;
seem'd: Yes, ere upon thy head the thirteenth And when they glow in all their genuyear
ine fire, The violets of a priiny spring had Deeply are felt as gloriously pour
tray'd ; In all Expression's subtlest shades they Oh! may they nought in actual life came;
inspire, Thro' that Promethean glance, those That inay thy virtue, or thy peace invaried tones,
vade! Love, jealousy, and horror, rage, and Above pale Envy's reach thy soaring shame,
fame Their hopes, their fears, their trans Long inay accordant multitudes attest; groans.
And prosp'rous Love, and pure Religion In thee and in the scorn of gradual art,
frame Genius hier proudest miracle began; The shield impassive for thy youthful Gave thee despotic empire o'er the lieart,
breast! Long years ere growth and strength And may advancing life for thee display might stamp thee man.
The gems of knowledge, and of joy Beneath the crown upon that infant
the flowers ; brow,
Shine unobscur'd on thy consummate The robe imperialon that fairy frame, day, Siream'd all which gance and grandeur
With softest sun-set gild thy evening can bestow,
hours. All which a monarch's dignity pro- On wealth and rank while rolls Olliclaim.
vion's stream, Thy Proteus soul each garb of feeling
Thy mem’ry o'er its whelming waves wore,
shall climb; Fire in thine eyes, and passion in thine For thy dear country shall record thy air,
name, And still became thee, and in equal And bind thy splendent wreaths on power,
the dark brow of Time! Garlands of love, and laurell'd wreathis
Litchfield, June 27, 1807. of war.
ports, and their
BY W. M. T.
BY W. M. T.
Congenial to the soul thy shades,
When sadness-imperceptive fades;
How oft thro' summer's lengthen'd day
That faithful memory might review OH for that dear delicious hour The scenes that time can ne'er renew, I pass :d with thee, my love, last night, Until the mind subdu'd by grief, When on thy panting breast reclin'd Would fancy its excess relief.
Thy arms around me fondly twin'd, When day subsides, and Nature rests, We kiss'd, and kiss'd with warm de- Thy stillness calms the anguish'd breast; light!
The feeling mind is sooth'd by thee,
And scarce regrets her desting.
And I will dwell upon its thought,
Till in thy kiss with rapture fraught
Perchance the sailor on the deck,
Oft picture's how life's hopes may Written in Cheshire, Sunday, June 7, Thinks haply rests his favorite fair,
Who wakes for him with anxious care.
But fate commands, the hero rore, THIS, this is nature ! on the bloss’ıny And leaves the land and her he loves ; spray
Braves icy gales, or torrid heat, The limet sings; and mildly floats And scorns from either to retreat ; along
Yet that brave heart unnerv'd would be, The plaintive cuckoo's never-varied Did Hope not beam futurity,
song, And fragrant is the hawthorn-scented
AH! pity me not, see I'm gayas a queeli, Nor join again the city's busiling I'm deck'd with the choicest of Hours throng,
from the green; Where on the sicken'd sense vile Tho’my cheek may be pale, there's no stenches prey,
tear in my eye, And horrid dins assail the deafen'd ear; And ’tis seldom I give to sad mem'ry a
For now I feel a bliss, ves deeply feel sigh; These lovely scenes my drooping fancy 'Tis my choice thus to wander, unheed
cheer, And o'er my senses as a vision steal : For hoine has no joy for the exile of love. Dear e'er as those whiclı, to the mourner's eye,
Spare that look of compassion, indeed
I'm not mad, | Picture Hope's prospects briglit, and years of future joy !
Yet your sympathy softens and makes
my heart glad; Tho' my lover is fed, and seeks soare
fairer lair, ADDRESS TO TWILIGHT.
And has left me alone, to love and de
spair; HAIL! twilight, hail! thy calmıness In fancy th'inconstant I see as I tore, mild,
The illusion is sweet to the exile of lore. Is welcome to Aficiion's child,
ed to rove,