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Or where Pacific vast, capacious laves

la the populous city, the minute-bells tolling, New worlds, new empires, with its southern Broke the silence of night, and no reveller sate waves ;

In gladness; but tears of affection were rolling There Britain's daring canvass streams unfurld, From the idler and sage, from the bumble and And wafts her traffic round the social world

great. Hail, brightning era, hail! beneath whose ray

The solemn accordance of temples resouoded, Peace, plenty, freedom, all their charms display.

Deep, dull, and sonorons it rose and declined;

And solitude all the wide city surrounded,
TO JESSY.

In sorrow dissolved, but to Heaven resigned, The following stanzas are said to have been ad Thou art gone, thou soft vision of glory and dressed by Lord Byron to his Lady before their

lightness, separation.

Like the dream of young slumbers bast va. There is a mystic thread of life,

Yet Piety feels, as it dwells on thy brightness,
So dearly wreathed with mine alone;

Mortality's beauties were born to decay.
That Destiny's releotless knife,
At once must sever both or none.

Not alone the high nobles attending thy station,

AMicted and lorn, o'er thy sepulchre bend; There is a form, on which these eyes

The Prince and the peasant bewail their priHave often gazed with fond delight:

vation, By day—that form their joy supplies,

A kingdom its Queen, and the bamlet its friend. And dreams restore it through the night.

In the palace of pomp, in humility's dwelling, There is a voice, whose tones inspire

Affliction submissively silent deplores; Such thrills of rapture in my breast;

Yea! the spirit of grief through thy conntry is I would not hear a seraph choir,

swelling, Unless that voice could join the rest!

And Hope droops awbile o'er its desolate There is a face, whose blnshes tell

shores. Affection's tale upon the cheek

From pageantry free, in thy calm habitation,
But pallid at one fond farewell,

Thy quietnde, piety, happiness, love,
Proclaim more love tban words can speak. Taught wisely the bumble and great of thy nation,
There is a lip, which mine hath prest,

To indigent life and to grandeur above.
And none had ever prest before;

And thine influence came on the poor as a It yow'd to make me sweetly blest,

blessing And nine-mine only, press it more!

That heaven dispenses unheard and untold; There is a bosoni-all my own

And the full heart of gratitude oft was expressHath pillow'd oft this aching head;

ing A mouth-which smiles on vie alone;

Its thanks to the band it might never behold. An eye-whose tears with mine are shed. Ob! more shall the virtues composing thy story There are two bearts, wbose movements thrill

Hereafter impart the deep woe of thy land, lo unison so closely sweet;

Than all the proud monuments raised to thy That pulse to pulse, responsive still,

glory, They both must beave-or cease to beat.

By elegy's grief or the sculptor's vain hand. There are two souls, whose equal flow

Yes! the streams of remembrance, divine and

unfailing, In gentle streams so calmly run

Will flow thro' thine island when those are no
That when they part-they part-ah, no!
They cannot part-those souls are one!

more;
And the sacred tradition of thee be prevailing

While the blue waves of ocean encircle its
ON HAVING VISITED CLAREMONT IN

shore. THE EVENING.

Ah! blind are our wishes, yet still we deplore I viewed thee at sun-set, thy beauties were thee, shrouded,

(veiled, And breathe our deep sighs o'er thy sanctified In the soft gloom of evening thy turrets were arn, And the spirit of sorrow thy silent lakes clouded, But shall anguish and agony bope to restore thee, While the murmuring breeze thy lost Lady Or the pray’rs of mortality bid thee return ? bewailed.

When the moon, in its glory, thro' heaven's fault Yes, the day-light of heaven reluctantly left thee, sailing,

Yet its showers wept softly, and silently fell ; And the stars on the world let their living
And the village, deploring the fate that bereft beums fall,
ibee,

A fugitive mist o'er their splendor prevailing,
In contemplative sadness was mute at its knell. Can dimn their deep light with its vaporous pall.

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And shall the low creature, with ignorance LINES WRITTEN BY KING JAMES I. clouded,

CROWNEs have their compasse, length of daics Impeach the great purpose of wisdom on high, their date, That God, for his bliss, hath benignantly shroud- || Triumphs their tombes, felicitie her fate ; ed?

Of more than earth, can earth make none parBow down thou vain thing and on Heaven rely. taker; Be thou still as the deep, when the darkness was || Bat knowledge makes the King most like his spreading

maker. The motionless waters of Chaos in night, And the spirit of God o'er the silence was shed

HUNT'S PANACEA. ding The seeds of the world and futurity's light.

COLLECT a mob to make a show-
The dew-drops that fall when the san is declining, Yet to prevent expected harm,

The bellows of sedition blow-
Deploring the shade of that sorrowful bour,
In tremulous beauty at morning are shining

Sound from a coach-roof an alarm!

The praise of order then rehearse, To the orient beams that irradiate the flower,

And bid them quietly disperse. And round thee will the chrystallized tears of our Now change the note-and raise the storm sorrow

Tell them that nothing but Reform
Still dwell in the sepulchre's transient night, Can cure the sufferings of the poor,
And thy spirit of purity shine on the morrow And drive starvation from the door
That dawns on the tomb-immortality's light! That all subscription is absurd,

Compared to this effective word-
That boldly for it they must stand,

For it alone can save the land-
ON PARTRIDGE SHOOTING.

Make drooping manufactures thrive,
When yellow Ceres with her golden grain,

And keep the nerves of trade aliveRewards the labours of the rural swain;

Make butchers, farmers, cease to cheut, Our cheerful yonth the sylvan sports pursue,

And at fair prices sell their meatReturning pleasures op'ning to their view. Make bakers pangs of conscience feel Led by the morning breeze, and cooling air,

Enlarge the loaf-reduce the mealWith dogs and guns they to the fields repair;

Force e'en hard landlords to relent, Bnt chief the sportsman sure perdition brings,

And live without receiving rent. Where the sly partridge sits with folding wings; || Abolish (as the work warm waxes) Close in the grass the basking covey lies,

Pensioners, parsons, tithes, and taxes; But unconceal'd from the sharp pointer's eyes

And bring, once more, the bappy reign, Whose leg nplifted, and sagacious nose,

Of Revolution back again! With instinct strange their private haunts dis

close; Led by the breeze, and on his game intent,

THE SAILOR AND MONKEY. With caution first he draws the rising scent;

On reading an account of the decision at the ManThen after many a pause in mute suspense,

sion-House, between a Sailor and Showman, Stands, like a marble statue, void of sense.

concerning a Monkey. Long time the birds that skulk among the weeds, || Thy judgment, Smith, hath men surprised, Perceive his figure thro' the yellow reeds,

And wicked wags declare, Then quick as thought, from the thick stubble | Whilst thou wast aping Solomon spring,

The Monkey ap?d the Mayor.
And in close phalanx ply each sounding wing.
The nimble gunner aims his tube aright,
And in red lightning, death n’ertakes their flight: MAD SONG-BY MRS. OPIE.
Breathless they fall in many a giddy round,

Ah! what is this that on my brow
And io convulsive tremor beat the ground.

Presses with such o'erwhelming power ? Others the meadows range with anxious care,

My love to heaven is gone I know;And scatter'd coveys all at once euspare.

But 'ris to fix our bridal hour :The spreading net from foldings onconfind,

Then on his tounb why should I sorrow ?
True to its point, Aows loosely in the wind.

He's gone bat be'll return to-morrow,
And while bis latent game, the setter eyes,
The ardent sportsman watching for the prize-

Ah! then yon lofty bill I'll mount,
When from the ground the chatt'ring covey And seize on morning's brightest cloud;
springs,

On that I'll waiting love, and count Enwraps the filmy texture round their wings. The moments till he leaves his shroud : Thus oft the gun, or else the marshy toil, And be the rainbow's vest shall borrow, Rewards the fowler with the feather'd spoil. To grace our bridal-day to-morrow.

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ON

But all's not right in this poor heart

There blue-eyed amethyst is seen, Yet why should I his loss deplore?

And emerald of lively green; It was indeed a pang to part,

Pity and youth in fond embrace, But when he comes he'll rove no more: Soft image of the ductile race! And all to-day can laugh at sorrow,

The topaz, rich in golden ray, When sure of being blest to-morrow.

Joy-like is ever bright and gay; Then why am I in black array'd ?

The ruby-bat he glares too strong, And why is Henry's father pale?

Remove the dazzler from the throng; And why do I, poor frantic maid,

Semblance of glory, bane of rest, Tell to the winds a mournful tale?

He must not rear his vengeful crest: Alas! the weight I feel is sorrow

His place let adamant supply, No! no-be cannot come to-morrow!

Whose lustre may with honor vie !

And here the snowy pearl allot
ORIGINAL POETRY.

Her modest merit we forgot;
As chastity, so pure from vice,
As chastity—that pearl of price!

Ab! is there yet a vacant place,
THE DEATH OF HARRIET ANGELINA, Nor pebble left the void to grace ?

That precious stone myself supply,
Infant Daughter of Sir Thomas Acland.

From the rare mine-humanity!
BY MRS. M-MULLAN.

Behold the jewel's mild display!
When full-blown roses fade and fall,

No dross adheres to cloud her ray; We musi ng mark the doom of all;

But beautiful, angelic, bright, When yellow autumn, drooping, sear,

She cheers and gladdens mortal sight! Is gemm’d by winter's frozen tear;

| 'Tis mercy! loveliest, rarest gem! When groas their tuneful choirs dismiss,

Despots at will my choice condemo! Nor echo hears an hymn of bliss

Mercy! more precious than renown,
We mourn not beauty's final fate,

The noblest jewel in a monarch's crown!
Each season had its fullest date.
But oh! if in the youth of spring,
Ere opes the bnd, ere fledged the wing,

WHAT IS IN A NAME?
Ere smiling rosebuds bail the morn,
And only Love's sweet hopes are born-

FORTUNE imparts to every plan
Should treach'rous rust, or icy gale,

Which rises from the mind of man, Change damask tints to lifeless pale;

A name and pature double : Then 'stead of spring's inspiring glow,

Whether 'tis sense or folly's dream,

Supported, 'tis a noble scheme,
We grasp the vase of charmless woe;
Weave cypress where delight should bloom-

Without support-a bubble!

GP.B. Whilst weeping Pity marks the tomb, Inhales the essence ere it die, And wafts it to a kindred sky.

SONNET.

Why dost thou sigh, my love, and hang thy head? THE SONG OF THE REGENT. Is it because our fortune looks upkind? INSCRIBED TO HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS THE

These sad reverses do attune the mind
PRINCE REGENT.

To meet, with finer sense, the wayward maid The gorgeous monarch of the East

In all the witchery of smiles arrayed.

Mark yonder crow-how she doth stoop and Finds not his store of bliss increas'dAlas! it but augments his care,

yield

Her head to earth, ere she forsake the field The proud regalia's costly glare!

To wing her flight up to her airy bed,
True grandeur (were not mortals blind)
Consists in dignity of mind;

Built in a nook of some high pinnacle That loftiness of soul within,

So you and 1, with woes acquainted well,

Bending our pride to fortune's lowliness, Which yet cau bend to please and win!

Will soar, majestic in our griefs subdued, My diadem, though sparkling bright,

Above the curious gaze and whispers rude Not dazzles but allures the sight;

Of those dull fools who smile in scorn of our The jewel's mildest radiance shed,

distress. Inspiring love-dispelling dread!

G. P.B.

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