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Thongh her natural sense cducation had spoil'd, || The tempest has but swept, not shook the shrine, Such as she had receiv'd, native genius had No lamp that Genius lit has ceas'd to shine! foil'd:

Still lives its sanctity. Around the spot But she heard the soft tale I repeatedly told her Hover high spirits-shapes of burning thought, With a smile of content, as she'd lean o'er my

Viewless but call them, on the dazzled eye shoulder;

Descends their pomp of immortality: A little bombast I was forc'd to employ,

Here, at your voice, Rowe, Otway, Southern And whilst urging the lady to hasten my joy,

come, She consented; and thus when my point I had | Flashing like meteors thro' the age's gloom. carried,

Perpetual bere king of ib'immortal band, We had nam'd the next day t' have been privately | Sits Shakespeare crown'd. He lifts the golden married."


And all obey; the visions of the past

Rise as they lived-soft, splendid, regal, vast. “ Long may the Thistle wave her blooming

Then Ariel harps along the enchanted wäre, head

Then the Weird Sisters thunder in their careIn that brave land where noble Wallace bled; The land which has for ages given birth

The spell is wound. Then shews his mightier

art, To valor, learning, honesty, and worth; Where science beams-where arts the mind im.

The Moor's lost soul; the hell of Richard's beart,

And stamps, in fiery warning to all time, prove,

The deep damnation of a tyrant's crime. And Beauty's smile rewards a faithful love. May Heaven's blessings, Scotia, on thy land To-night we take our lesson from the tomb: descend,

'Tis thy sad cenotaph, colossal Rome! And ev'ry son of thine possess a faithful friend !" How is thy helmet cleft, thy banner low,

Ashes and dust are all thy glory now!

While o'er thy wreck, a host of monks and slares, • Erin; thy Shamrock once so green,

Totter to “ seek dishonourable graves."
Is now a drooping emblem seen;
But yet, thongh scorn'd, no blame is thine The story is of Brutus, in that name
The canker-worms its root entwive;

Tower'd to the soo her eagle's wing of flame! Corruption, thirst of pow'r and wealth,

When sank her liberty, that name of power, Have caus'd the plant's decline of health; Pour'd hallow'd splendours round its dying hour. Whose land for Britain trophies won

The lesson lived for man--that beavenward blaze The land of conq'ring Wellington !"

Fixed on the pile the world's eternal gaze.

Unrivall’d England! to such memories thou

This hour dost owe the laurel on the brow; PROLOGUE TO THE NEW TRAGEDY These, fix'd, when earth was like a grave, thy OF BRUTUS,

tread, Written by a Friend, spoken by Mr. H. Kemble.

Prophet and warrior! 'twistthe quick and dead;

Those bade thee war for man-those won the name Time rushes o'er us; thick as evening clouds

That crowns thee-ramed above all Roman fame. Ages roll hack :-what calls them from their shrouds ?

Now, to our scene-we feel po idle fear, What in full vision brings their good and great,

Sure of the hearts, the British justice here;

If we deserve it, sure of your applause
The men whose virtues make the nation's fate,
Tbe far, forgotten stars of human kind?

Then, bear for Rome, for England, for “oor

cause!” The Stage—the mighty telescope of mind!

If later, luckless arts that Stage profane, The actor pleads--not guilty of the stain :

EPILOGUE. He but the shadow fang on Fashion's tide

Written by a Friend, spoken by Mrs. Glover. Yours the high will that all its waves must guide: Your voice alone, the great 'reform secures,

MAY Mrs. Glorer venture to appear? His but the passing hour—the age is yours.

She neither uses por speaks daggers here: Our pledge is kept. Here yet no chargers

She comes quite tame, in the old English way, wheel,

To hope you all have-wept at our new play. No foreign slaves on ropes or scaffolds reel,

Tullia no more, I trend on English ground; No Gallic Amazons, half naked, climb

There's pride, hope, courage, in the very sound; From pit to gallery-the low sublime!

Myself your debtor, many a changeful year In Shakespeare's halls, shalt dogs and bears en. For generous kindness-never changing here ; gage

I come to ask that kindness now for one Where brutes are actors, be a booth the stage! Unknown, or but by this night's fortune known, And we shall triumph yet. The cloud has hong To cheer a youthful votary of the nine, Darkly above-but day sball spring-has spruvg; 11 And fill his heart with gratitude-like mine.

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Aye, this is England-well its signs I know, Blessed spirit, art thou fled
Beanty above, around me, and below:

From this scene of pain and anguish ?
Such cheeks of rose, such bright bewitching eyes! Guardian seraphs round thy bed,
Well may the kneeling world give you the prize! Pitying saw thee pine and languish,
Where, wbere on earth does woman wenr a smile, Then triumplant bade thee rise,
Like yours, ye glory of “the glorious isle!" “ Welcome, sister, to the skies!
But, bless me-what, two nondescripts together, “ Welcome to a land of peace,
The she a pile of ribband, straw, and featber; “ Endless pleasures still bestowing;
Her back a pillion, all above and on it

« Welcome to a throne of bliss !
A cbarcb-bell? cradle? tower?-No, faith, a “ Joys unceasing, ever flowing !

“ Come, and claim the heav'nly prize, Aye, and an actual woman in it, able

“ Welcome, sister, to the skies !" Rouse but her tongue, to make that tower a Babel!

C. C. RICHARDSON. Now for the he, the fellow nondescript, Wbence has that mockery of man been shipt? Have Ross or Buchan brought him to console ADDRESS TO THE NIGHTINGALE. The quidnoncs for the passage to the Pole ?

BY MRS. M'MULLAN. While, on her iceberg, howl some Greenland squaw,

Full inany a lonely grove and dell, Robbed of her pretty monster till next thaw!

With thee l’ve sought, sweet Philomel! No, Paris has the honour._" Ah que oui,”

Whilst oft thy wild notes chanted,
Voila”-ihe air, grace, shrug-smell of Paris! | Have stay'd the list’ning Zephyr's flight,
France gave bis step its irip, his tongue its phrase,

Have charm'd the ear of gloomy Night
His head its peruke, and his waist its stays! Ip groves that Echo planted.
The thing is contraband.-Let's crush the trade, Full quickly comes the hunter's moon,
Ladies, insist on't-all is best home made.

And thou, lor'd warbler! ah, too soon,
All British, from your shoe-tye or your fan,

Wilt find a leafless mansion :
Down to that tantalizing wretch call'd man! Winter's fierce winds will journey fast,
Now for this compound creature :—first, the wig, || To throw the keen, the icy blast,
every frizzle struggling to look big ;

Through all the chill'd expansion.
On the rong'd cheek the fresh dyed whisker

Yon murin’ring lake forgets to flow, The thousandth way of dressing a calf's head.

Yon mossy bank enwreath'd in snow, The neckcloth next, where starch and whalebone

Not e'en thy song inspiring : vie

Thongh Dian checks loer silver car, To make the slave a walking pillory.

And lingers with the midnight star, The bolster'd bosom, ah! ye envying fair,

Thy vesper hginn admiring. How little dream you of the stuff that's there!

Naiades that on the waveless stream, What straps, ropes, steel, tbe aching ribs com Assembled at thy plaintive theme, press,

To list thy faithful sadness, To make the Dandy" beautifully less."

Now lend their murmurs to the shell, Thus fools, their final stake of folly cast,

And softly whisper_" Fare thee well!" By instinct, to strait waistcoats come at last.

In strain uncheer'd by gladness. Misjudging Shakespeare! this escaped thine eye, Delightless sweeps the minstrel string, For tho' the brains are out, the thing won't die. That bail'd thee in the joyous spring, And now, farewell! But one word for the Bard,

When life was worth possessing; The smile of Beauty is bis hest reward;

Yet come, lone warbler! follow me,
Tben smile upon him, you, and you, and you! And miostrel-harp will give to thee,
I see the Poet's cause is won. Adieu!

Ils simply gratefu! blessing.
W ben Winter from his ice-built throne

Proclaims the snow-wrapt world his own,

And his the storm-clad mountain :

Come to my cell, and thou shalt share, HYMN ON THE DEATH OF HER The crumb, the warmth, the genial air, MAJESTY THE QUEEN.

And sip the crystal fountain. QUEEN of Albion, art thou gone

From humble store enough shall be To celestial realms of glory?

Allotted, Philomel, to thee, Long thy virtues grac'd a throne,

To sooth thy pensive sorrow : Long thy worth shall live in story;

Then hastenor tuneless linger here, Wbile thy spoiless soul shall rise

To minstrel-bosom ihou art dear Welcome to her native skies.

Hastemally with me to-morrow,



AN OCCASIONAL ADDRESS. Behind the scenes some trembling cnlprits wait,

Who leave to yon the isene of their fate.

Be not severe! -dopt the gen'rous plan, « Hope told a fatt'ring tale,” that you would | To spare our faults, and cheer ns when you can; view

'Twill make us bustle thru our various parts Our scenic efforts--and applaud them 100 ; With broyant spirits, and with merry hearts. And iho' she's firkle as the summer wind,

O! not the sounds of midnight serenade, Yet still we trusted her-for you are kind!

Brenth'd 'neath ibe latrice of some tender maid, And would not tear ungen'rously apart

Nor dying murmirs of the lover's lule, The little buds that hope twines sound the heart:

Nor the soft warblings of the dulcet fute, No! you would rather foster them with care,

Could cheer our hosomis in our present ca ose, And bid the tender blossoms flourish there,

One half so much as your sincere applause. Than crush them in their verdure, and lay low

H, S. V.D.
Hope's smiling roses, even ere they blow.
The Indian slave may guide bis light canoe,
Beneaih a mild and cloudless sky of blue;

May channt his love-songs, and inay safely glide | The rnby lips that pont to greet me,
O'er the sinooth surface of a river's lide;

The look of welrome in the eyes;
But dare not trust bis fragile bark from shore, The tender heart that bonuds to meet me,
Where clouds hang threai’ning, and where bil These, O! these, are whot I prize.
lows roar.

For me, Ibe gublet has po pleasures,
Ev’n so our bark will, undisturb'd by gales, I shun its rounds, nor wish to sip,
Glide on, if your applause but fill the sails; The nectar that my bosom treasures,
But if her voyage be by your eensure crossd, I can find ou Julia's lip.
The bark is wreck'd_and all her crew are lost.

0! ev'ry virtuous charm possessing, Ladies, to you I bow - no stars appear

Blest in person and io miud;
By which the tim'rons mariner can steer; Every comfort, jay, and blessing,
Wonld you assist him in this enterprise,

In my Julia dear I find.
And grant him leave to steer by your bright eyes; li To others pomp and splendid pleasures,
There is a tender magic in their ray,

May delight aud joy imparı;
That well could light the vessel ou her way; Julia's viriles are my treasures,
And let her unchor, after all our toils,

All my weulib is-Julia's beart. Beneath the cloudless licaveu of your smiles.

H.S.V. D.



JANUARY, 1819.


No. 1.-FANCY MOURNING DINNER ful Figure we had intended for this Number; Dress.

and shall, therefore, present our readers White crape frock with pointed festoons with a third embellishmeut in our Number of the same, fastened at each point by black for February. rosettes, and folds of black satin placed above and below the festoons. Black satin Canezou spenser, elegantly ornamented GENERAL OBSERVATIONS with white crape. Frederica hat of white crape, surmounted by a plume of black feathers. Necklace of jet; black gloves

FASHIONS AND DRESS. and slippers.

The variegated wand of Fashion is now

again seen waving over her changeful emN. B. In consequence of the severe in- pire, and her prime assistant Fancy, is busily disposition of our engraver of Fashions, employed in giving versatility even to the we are compelled to post pune the beauti- isable garmeuts of woe, while she is assie


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again seen waving over her changeful emN. B. In consequence of the severe in. ' pire, and her prime assistant Faucy, is busily disposition of our engraver of Fashions, employed in giving versatility even to the we are compelled to post pune the beauti- sable garmeuts of woe, while she is assi.

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