two of which covered and the reft fupported it. In this depofitum was found a great quantity of coals, ashes, and bones of men ; fome burnt, others half burnt. It is therefore fuppofed to have belonged to the Danes before their converfion to Chriftianity, and to have been built for fome of their nobility. A PRAYER, By M. de Voltaire. Tranfiated from his Traité fur la Tolérance, lately published. NOT OT unto men, but unto thee the God of all beings, of all worlds, and of all ages, do I addrefs myself; if feeble creatures, loft in the immenfity, and imperceptible to the reft, of the univerfe, may presume to ask of thee any thing: of Thee who haft givemall, of Thee whofe decrees are unchangeable, as they are eternal. Condefcend to look in pity on the errors which are infeparable from our nature, and let them not be to us the ground of caJamities. Thou hast not given us hearts to hate one another, nor hands to cut one another's throats: Grant that we may mutually affift one another to fupport the burden of a painful and tranfitory life: let not the little differences between the vestments that cover our feeble bodies, between our defective languages, between our ridiculous cuftoms, between our many imperfect laws, between our many foolish opinions, between our feveral conditions, fo unequal in our eyes, and fo equal in thine; let not the many little diftin&tions that denote the feveral claffes of atoms called men, be fignals of hatred and perfecution: May thofe who light up wax-tapers at noon-day to celebrate Thee, bear with thofe who are content with the light of the fun thou haft placed in the firmament. Let not those who, to tell us we must love thee, cover their robe with white linen, hold in deteftation thofe who tell us the fame thing in a cloak of black woollen. May it be the fame to adore thee in a jargon formed from an ancient language, or in a jargon more modern. May those whofe vefture is dyed with red or with purple, who rule over a fmall parcel of a small heap of the mud of this earth, and who poffefs fome rounded bits of a certain metal, enjoy without pride what they call grandeur and riches; and may others behold them without envy for thou knoweft that in these vanities there is nothing to be envied, nothing to be proud of. May all men remember that they are brethren; may they abhor the tyranny that is exercifed over the mind, as they execrate the violence that takes by force the fruit of labour and peaceful induftry. If the fcourge of war be neceffary, let us not hate, let us not devour, one another in the midft of peace; but let us employ our momentary exiftence in bleffing, equally in a thoufand different languages, from Siam to California, thy goodness, which has given us this momentary existence. Remarkable Remarkable Inftance of the furprising Refolution of a Canadian Chief. From a new Work lately published. N Iroquois captain, of the can ther to expose himself to every thing, than to disgrace himself by a flight, which he judged of dangerous confequence to the young people that were under his command. He fought a long time like a man who was refolved to die with his arms in his hands but the Hurons, who oppof ed him, were resolved to take him alive, and he was taken. They made him get upon a fort of a stage, where they began to burn him all over the body without any mercy, and he appeared at first as unconcerned as if he felt nothing. They knew not any longer in what part they could make him feel pain; when one of his executioners cut the fkin of his head all round, and pulled it off with great violence. The pain made him drop down fenfelefs; they thought him dead, and all the people went away a little time after he recovered from his fwoon; and seeing no perfon near him, he takes a fire brand in both his hands, though they were all over flayed and burnt, recalls his executioners, and defies them to approach him. They were affrighted at his refolution, they fent forth horrid cries, and armed themselves, fome with burning fiire-brands, others with red-hot irons, and fell upon him all together. He received them bravely, and made them retreat. The fire with which he was furrounded, ferved him for an intrenchment, and he made another with the ladders that had been ufed to get upon the scaffold; and being thus fortified in his own fuDeral-pile, now become the theatre of his valour, and armed with the inftruments of his punishment, he was for fome time the terror of a whole village, no body daring to ap half burnt, and whose blood flowed from all parts of his body. A falfe ftep which he made in ftriving to fhun a fire-brand that was thrown at him, left him once more to the mercy of his butchers; and I need not tell you that they made him pay dear for the fright he had juft before put them in. After they were tired with tormenting him, they threw him into the midst of a great fire, and left him there, thinking it impoffible for him ever to rife up again. They were deceived; when they leaft thought of it, they faw him, armed with fire-brands, run towards the village, as if he would fet it on fire. All the people were ftruck with terror, and no perfon had the courage to ftop him: but as he came near the firft cabin, a flick that was thrown between his legs, threw him down, and they fell upon him before he could rife: they directly cut off his hands and feet, and then rolled him upon fome burning coals; and laftly, they threw him under the trunk of a tree that was burning. Then all the village. came round him to enjoy the pleafure of feeing him burn. The blood which flowed from him almost extinguished the fire, and they were no longer afraid of his efforts: but yet he made one more which astonished the boldeft: he crawled out upon his elbows and knees with a threatening look, and a floutnefs which drove away the nearest ; more indeed from aftonishment than fear; for what harm could he do them in this maimed condition? Some time after a Huron took him at an advantage, and cut off his head. Poetical ********** Poetical ESSAYS for MARCH, 1764. ODE to a SINGING-BIRD, By the late Mr. Richardson, of Queen's College, Oxon. Thou that glad'ft my lonesome hours With many a wildly-warbled fong, When Melancholy round me low'rs, And drives her fulien ftorms along: When fell Adverfity prepares To lead her delegated train, Pale fickness, want, 1emorfe, and pain, With all her hoft of carking cares,→→ The fiends ordain'd to tame the human foul, And give the humbled heart to fympathy's controul, II. Sweet foother of my mifery, fay, Why doft thou clap thy joyous wing? Why doft thou pour that a tiefs lay? How canst thou, little prifoner, fing? Haft thou not caufe to grieve That man, unpitying man, has rent From thee the boon which nature meant Thou should'ft, as well as he, receive? The power to woo thy partner in the grove, To build where inftinct points; where Perchance, unconscious of thy fate, Of life's beft bleffing, liberty! To live a tuneful flave, and diffipate his care. IV. But why for thee this fond complaint? Above thy mafter thou art bleft: Art thou not free?-Yes; calm Content, With olive fceptre fways thy breast: Then deign with me to live; The falcon of infatiate maw, With hooked bill and griping claw, Shall ne'er thy deftiny contrive: And every tabby foe fhall mew in vain, While penfively demure fhe hears thy melting ftrain. V. Nor fhall the fiend, fell Famine, dare Thefe, thefe fhall be my conftant care, VI. From drear Oblivion's gloomy cave The powerful muse shall wreft thy name, Is ever ready to dispense And melody's foft aid impart; VII. Frown'd the black demons of despair, If Fortune should be kind, And when the weeping wretch I find, Then, tuneful moralift, I'll copy thee, And folace all his woes with focial fympathy. Mr. WOODWARD'S PROLOGUE, Spoken at bis Benefit, on Tuesday the 20th inft. at Covent Garden Theatre, to a new Farce called Falfe Concord. WITH due refpect and gratitude I bend, And thank, for every favour, every friend; For candour to each effort I have made; For fmiles which every effort have o'erpaid; Such kind indulgence let me still obtain, And Spite fhall aim her venom'd darts in vain! What fpite? what darts?-methinks each hearer cries: Haft met with evil tongues?—or evil eyes à Haft Haft thou been fafcinated, man? confefs, What could provoke th' attack?—why, as I guess, A little too much undeferv'd fuccefs! For this-in truth I know no other caufe, A charge as falfe as foul-Ingratitude! ftage: Thrown on the parish-pity to bespeak→→→→ And on the rags its name a label bore: To a YOUNG LADY. BLOOM of beauty, early flow'r When again the lambkins play, Then, the taper-moulded wate Above, in lineaments divine, Happy thrice, and thrice agen, Happiest he of happy men, Who, in courtship greatly fped, Wins the damfel to his bed, Bears the virgin-prize away, Counting life one nuptial day! For, the dark-brown dutk of hair, Shadowing thick thy forehead fair, Down the veiny temples growing, O'er the floping shoulders flowing; And the fmoothly-pencil'd brow, Mild to him in every vow; And the fringed lid below, Thin as thinneft blossoms blow; And the hazely-lucid eye, Whence heart-winning glances fly; And that cheek of health, o'erspread With foft-blended white and red; And the witching fmiles, that break Round thofe lips, which fweetly speak; And thy gentleness of mind, Gentle, from a gentle kind; Thefe Thefe endowments (heavenly dow'r!) HYMN to the CREATOR. Creator of the earth and skies! Suftainer of the whole! Which way foe'er I turn mine eyes Thy goodness ftrikes my foul. Man in thy love thou didst create, And breathe in him thy breath; For him thy fon quit heavenly state, Thy fecond felf faw death. For him the feafons come and go, And the extenfive fea, But thou art good, and canft forgive His numerous frailties; And tho' he fins, to's wants you give Relief before he cries. Perfection! teach me to receive, The daily bleffings which you give, And words cannot exprefs. Thy goodness reach'd me when I lay Th' enjoyment of the prefent day Thou art the rock that will not fail, On which alone I'll build; The foremost in my choice. When with the morn thy beauties rife, The fight my foul shall move, When Sol at noon difplays thy pow'r, At eve, when thy benignity And mildness best are found, Loud hallelujahs unto thee The vales fhall echo round. And when retired is the day, ODE to MARCH. LIKE Jafon, arm'd in coat of mail, Who nobly won the golden fleece, March on a ram triumphant rides, Or on the flood, if war prefide, See Britain's bloody pennant fly! Her's is the ocean, free, as wide, Where-e'er the fons of commerce sail, Where-e'er her canvas pinions ply Her floating citadels prevail O'er all the force of Gaul and Spain, Whose fleets no more ufurp the main. Spring bids the frozen rivers flow, Knocks off their rigid bolts of ice, And melts huge Appenines of snow; By ftarts the flattering beams of noon To fing a momentary tune; Affrighted at the northern blast, The gods take care of us below, Indulgent are their gifts to all, With hands unfparing, they bestow, Impartial, air and fun and rain, To bless this fublunary ball, And mingle pleasure with our pain → Content is ever in our power, And paffes by us every hour. |