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FUGITIVE POETRY.

LINES TO MARY.
Our little bark bad spread her sail,
Prepar’d to catch the rising gale ;
The anxious seaman whistled sbrill,
Courting the breeze, but all was still ;
The moon was sunk, but still the eye
Could love to range the starry sky,
Or see upon our vessel's prow,
The wave in mimic sparkles glow :
And, oh! 'twas grand to see ber ride,
So stately o'er that sparkling tide,
Which told the experienc'd seaman's eye
The wish'd for southern breeze was vigh.
Brisk came the breeze, at morn we trod
Upon this Islet's verdant sod.
Trust me, we never thought of rest

Till high on yonder rocky steep,
Where the rude sea-bird builds her nest,

Aud lulls her clam'rous young to sleep.
Thence eastward far the eye could mark,
Full gaily gliding, many a bark,
On Commerce's golden lure intent,
On pleasure's loveliest errant bent,
Westward the Isle, yet dimly seen,
Lay Eriu's bills of loveliest green.
Grand was the view, but oh ! how grand,
As day-break bade the sceve expand,
And from the little lonely Isle,

Bright in the horizon purpling far,
We saw the morning's virgin smile,

And mark'd the faintly fading star. But not the morning opening bright

Gave such a swell of joy to me,
As did the blackest low'ring night

Beneath whose shade I've stole to thee.
Yet, 'twas not that my heart was dead
To nature's charms around me spread:
No; since that heavenly spirit bright
Breath'd o'er her face his living light,
Never did bosom's feeling twine
So close round Nature's charms as mine.
But, Mary! when thou’rt distant, dear,
I have no heart for pleasures bear.
I took the moment, fancy free,
And pray'd the breeze that sweeps these

bills,
To bear this little lay to thee,
As warm as from my soul it thrills.

LORENZO.

To me a church.yard is a pleasing walk,
For there my care-worn heart finds ease from

pain !
With sainted solitude I there can talk,
Muse on the world, and deem its turmoils

vain !
Mid tombs and tell-tale epitaphs I stand,
A weary pilgrim in the scene of woe;
Time's winged moments speedt Heav'n's

command,
I, soon, may join my kindred dust below!
Am I prepar'd for that important hour,
When God the spirit that he gave shall claim?
Have my past days been rul’d by Virtue's
pow'r?

[sbame? Or hos Vice stamp'd them with the seal of Ob! pis an awful thought !-Appallid I

shriuk,
For Conscience bids me from myself to By!
Of mispent hours 'tis agony to think,
And, yet, to think not, is in siu to die!
Fain could I envy those, who peaceful sleep
Beneath my feei, from earthly bondage freed !
But 'tis my task in penitence to weep,
Aud earn of Piety the promis'd meed!
Oh God! my soul with fervent zeal inspire
Thy laws to follow, and thy paths pursue !
Kindle witbin Devotion's sacred fire,
Aud teach me to perform-what is thy due!
Pardon my errors past, and counsel give
How I my present course may strait direct!
Thou art my only aid, in Th I live,
In mercy, then, my future ways protect!
The clock notes ter-another bour has filed
The sands of life draw nearer to their end!
Slowly I quit the regions of the dead,
And my unwilling footsteps homewards bend.

A PENITENT.

THE SWEETS OF LIFE.

BY MR. PARRY,
Editor of the Welch Melodies.
What's more pleasing to the eye,
Than a clear unclouded sky?
What more grateful to the ear
Than the voice that speaks to cheer?
If by fate we're doom'd to roam,
What's more sweet thau thoughts of home?
If distress the bosom rend,
What's so welcome as a friend?

REFLECTIONS IN A CHURCH-YARD.
ALONG the vale soft steals the breath of eve,
A farewell whisp'ring to the dying day ;
Gladly the busy haunts of men 1 leave,
And to the church-yard take my pensive way.

No. XXX. Vol. V.-N.S.

Sweet's tbe lovely modest rose,
Which 'mid thorns and briars blows!
But more sweet the youth who proves
Faithful to the beart that loves.

THE LITERARY BREAKFAST. As laicly a sage on fine ham wa repasting,

(Thu' for breakfast 100 s.voury I ween), He exclarin'd to a friend, who sat silent and

fasting, “Wbat a breakfat of learning is mine !" “ A breakfast of learoing !" with wonder he

cry'd, And laugh'd, for he thought him mistaken ; Why, what is it else?" the sage quickly replied,

[Bacon." “ When I'm making large extracts from

ANACREON ON HIMSELF.

From the Greek.

BY THE REV. W. FAULKNER.

On beds with odours, sweet diffuse,
Compos'd of Aow'rs of various hues,
'Midst pleasure's blandishments reclin'd,
I'll banish sorrow from my mind :
Wbilst love, so trim, shall bring me wine,
« And all Elisium shall be mine."
Swift as th’ Olympian car's career,
Life's rapid current down we steer;
Aud Death's imperial mandate must
This fabric soon consign to dust,
Then on my tomb why incense burn?
Why pour libations on my uro?
While yet I live, with wreaths, ye Fair,
Of roses, come, and deck my hair !
Ere 1, 0 Love, my breath resign,
With airy forms below to join,
Devoid of care, and free, l'll live
'Midst ev'ry pleasure life can give.

THE MANIAC.

WRITTEN IN BEDLAM.

HARK! hark! wbat murm'ring sounds of woe
Burst from the hollow cells below :
'Tis there that on a wretched bed
A cbild of sorrow rests her head,

Borne dwn by mis'ry, grief, and pain,
A sbort repose she seeks in vain ;
A few years back, and you might view
The happiest of the happy few;
Tha! wretch, whose wan and haggard eye
Proclaims corroding misery,
Blest with an aged father's care,
As free as thought, as light as air;
Say, wbat could tempt her from such bliss,
From happiness so pure as this?
Devoid of ev'ry sense of sbame,
A villainous seducer came :
Allur'd ber from ber peaceful cot,
Her aged sire, her happy lot:
In vile eujuyment quench'd his flame,
And, fiend-like, triumph'd in her shame;
Till, from all sense of honour torn,
He left th' uuhappy maid forlorn,
Here, like a bark by wbirlwinds tost,
Her sire forgot, her virtue lost,
Without a friend, without a name,
A hapless lunatic she came!

CHARLEMAGNE. Translation of a Fragment of Lucien Bonaparte's

Poem, entitled Charlemagne. Night's gloomy shades the earth envelop'd

still: Sweet sleep made Charles's ev'ry sorrow light: When the loud vanli awaken'd echoes fill,

And Belisarius' walls load with affright. The worthy Ten, who constant vigil kept Nigb to this mansion, hear the depths pro

found Re-bellow to their tread, as on they stept, And their scar'd troop lists fearfully the

sound. Beneath these ramparts could the pagan rout Their royal master's grave bave with fierce

hands scoop'd out? These same Ten Knights did Isambard com

mand : The fitful noise he catches with quick ear; Beside the wall he takes his list’ning stand, Aud voice and pace of warriors seems to

hear : The din is nigh-loud, plain-'tis double now: The French, amidst the horrors they con

ceive, Rest will no longer to their king allow :

Yes ; Isambard beholds the earth upheave: Full to his view fambeaus and weapons glare ; He brandishes his glave, then gives the

shout of war. Soon to his view a splendid Cross appears, Which in the midst of air arises slow; A Pontiff, who the sacred vestment wears,

Is now discover'd, and doth onward go, With outstretch'd hards he blesses, and commends

[cries Unto the God of peace each knight ;

tben " To France's King is the ligh Pastor sends : “ O still the clamours of each rank that

flies! “ Deep in the womb of earth a pass we gain, “ Concealing well our march from ev'ry ken

profane."

The worthies cheer. At Isambard's com And clear shall eternity's morning arise, mand,

And bright and unfading thy happiness Order aud confidence resume their sway;

glow, In silence, step by step, Gonsalvo's band Tho’lost upon earth, 'twill be found in the Arriv'd, pour o'er the ramparts their array:

skies, Gonsalve, Adrian's friend whom faith en

Untarnish'd by falsehood, unsullied by woe! dear'd, Receiv'd, where Toscanella's* walls we spy, That feudal power bis ancestors had reard; THE HEROINE OF SARAGOZA.

And Rome es: eem'd his truth, zeal, bravery, A rural sceptre tbus his dukedom won,

The following beautiful lines are from Lord And two-fold potency gave vigour to his

Byron's late Poem, entitled, " Childe Harold's

Pilgrimage." They are devoted to the fame of throne.

the Maid of Saragoza.

Is it for this the Spanish Maid arous'd, HOPE.

Hawgs on the willow ber unstrung guitar, " Hope springs eternal in the human breast."

And, all unsex'd, the Anlace hath espous’d, РОРЕ. .

Sung thể loud song, and dar'd the decd of Midst the wild'rings of care, and the torments

war? of strife,

And she, whom ovce the semblance of a scar That darken and sadden our path to the

Appallid, an owlet's larum chill'd with tomb,

[life,

dread, Ab! what could induce us to struggle through

Now views the column-scattering bay'uet jar If Hope, smiling Hope, did not brighten the

The faulcbion Hasli, and o'er the yet warm gloom!

dead The chaplet that Sorrow had steep'd in her Stalks with Minerva’s step where Mars might lears,

quake to tread. Ils roses all drooping, all wither'd and pale, Reviv'd by her breath, far more dazzling ap

Ye who shall marvel when you hear her tale, pears

[the gale.

0! had you known her iu her softer hour, Than when it was scattering its balins on

Mark'd her black eye that mocks her coal.

black veil, O come, thei, enchantress! and shed o'er my

Heard her light lively tones in Lady's soul

bower, A beam of thy radiance to lighten its woe; Seen her long locks that foil'd the painter's And w bile thy gay vision illusively roll,

power, I'll worsbip the spell, though its falsehood

Her fairy form, with more than female I kuow.

grace, For long in my busom, corrosive and stern, Scarce would you deem that Saragoza's

Hath wild Disappointment exerted its sway; Yet still to the finger of Hope will I lurn,

Bebeld her smile in Danger's Gorgon face, That points in the distance an unclouded

Tbin i he clos drauks, and lead in Glory's fearday.

ful chace.And will it return, that clear white dawning Her lover sinks she shed no ill-tim'd morni,

tear ; O'er wbicb no more tempests of anguish Her chief is slain---she fills his fatal post; shall rave ?

Her fellows fee-she checks their base Hope whispers it will, for, extracting the thorn,

career; Tby bosom shall tranquilly rest in the The foe retircs-she heads the sallying grave.

bost:

Who can appease like her a lover's ghost? * Toscanella is an acient Etrurian city, Who can ävenge so well a leader's fail? about thirty-five miles north of Rome. It is What mai retrieve when mau's fiush'd hope the country of the illustrious Fernandez Gon

is lost? salvo,who served under Ferdinand aud Isabella Who hangs so forcely on the flying Gaul, of Spain, at the close of the fifteenth, or be Foild by a woman's hand, before a batter'd ginning of the sixteenth century.

wall.

tower

F AS H I ONS

FOR

APRIL, 1812.

EXPLANATION OF THE PRINTS OF FASHION.

No.1.-WALKING DRESS.

Toured crape twisted in the front, the same A three quarters pelisse, of dark wiilow colour as the gown, and fa tened on the crown green sarsnet, or fine Merino cloth, worn over wiih a ruby ornament to correspond with the a round dress of fine India muslin, richly em- broaches. Earrings of one large pearl, of the broidered, and irimmed round the bottom with

pear form, with a single row as a necklace to lace, put on rather full. The pelisse made round || correspond; bracelets of two rows of pearl, in the skirt, like the short Indian coat; and clasped by one large ruby. White satia slip. trimmed round the throat and wrists with pers, with very small rosettes of the same; swansdown; faced in front and trimmed round and white kid gloves. A fine Cachemire shawl, the bottom with broad stripes of black velvet; of very pale butf colour, is thrown over this military front, with two rows of mother of dress at the conclusion of visits, the Opera, &c. pearl buttons, fastened down the front of the skirt with one row of the same and alternate

GENERAL OBSERVATIONS tassels, the colour of the polisse, which is con

ON fined at the waist by a gold belt. Yeoman's

FASHION AND DRESS. hat of the same colour, materials, and orna. menis as the pelisse, and finished in front with

Fashion renewg lier form a thousand times a flat ostrich feather. Half-bcots of light fawn in every season; yet swift and changeable as coloured kid, laced with dark willow green ip she is, we boast the power of catching her as front. Limerick gloves of pale straw colour. ste flies, for London must ever he acknow.

le 'ged the rest of her empire, and the place No. 2.--EVENING DRESS.

where her laws are most scrupulously execut. A velvet, or gossamer satin gown, of bright ed; yet her power is unlimited, distant climes amaranth, ruby, or cinnebar brown, with a bow bảfore her shrine, and though many afdemi-train, trimmed round the bottom, bosom, fect to smile at her changes, yet she finds imi: and sleeves with a light tassel fringe, of the tators every where, even amongst the gatives frivolité kind, of the same colour; upron of of our African colonies. wbite crape, sarsuet, cr lace, ornamenied wil The three quarter pelisse, and the yeomau's the same; sleeves of while satin, or of mate. bat, is the most favourite dress for walking; rials correspondent with the apron; these and the cold month of March has again caused short sleeves made rather nearer to the elbow the warm velvet, and other winter articles of thau formerly, and formed after the ch: miselte dress, to be as much in requisition as in the style. The body of the gown richly ornameni more gelid season of winter's reigu : though ed with beads or pearl, crossed like the ribband India muslins, of every description, particebraciers, and confined at the bosom by a brighi larly the fine Decca, are in peculier favour, ruby broacb, set round with pearl. The waist notwithstanding the inclemency of the weather confined by two rows of beads or pearl, and in the commercement of the month of Marcb; fastened in front with a broach, tbe same as and, indeed, under the three quarter pelisse, that on the bust. A lace balf bandkerchief, || there is no dress so appropriate as those wbich with a border richly embroidered in are either fabricated either of cambric or musloured silks, tied carelessly round the neck. lin A large coat of Merino cloth, oftle wrap. Moorish turban of wbite satin and cca ping kind, is also much wory, and on a few

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Engraved tør the 30"* Jumber of La Belle lisemblee April 118/2.

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