patriotic paper to be the vehicle of an attempt to dif fuade my brave countrymen from uttering the fentiments of Britons with the tongues of Frenchmen.

Yours,

SIMON STERLING.

THE BACHELOR'S SOLILOQUY CONCERNING
A MARRIED STATE.

To wed, or not to wed--that is the queftion:
Whether 't were happier in the mind to ftifle
The heats and tumults of outrageous paffion,
Or with fome prudent fair in folemn contract
Of matrimony join.-To have-to hold-
No more--and by that have, to fay we end
The heart ach, and the thoufand love-fick pangs
Of celibacy 't were a confummation
Devoutly to be wifh'd-In nuptial band-
To join till death diffolves-Ay, there's the rub:
For in that fpace what dull remorse may come,
When we have ta'en our leave of liberty,
Muft give us folemn paufe.-There's the refpect
That lacks our fpeed in fuing for a change:

Elfe who would bear the fcorn and fneers which Bachelors
When aged feel, the pains and flutt'ring fevers,

Which each new face muft give to roving fancy,
When he might rid himself at once of all

By a bare yes? Who would with patience bear
To fret and linger out a fingle life,

But that the dread of fomething yet untried,
Some hazard in a ftate from whofe ftrict bond
Death only can release, puzzles the will,
And makes us rather choofe thofe ills we have,
Than fly to others which we fancy greater?
This laft reflection makes us flow and wary,
Filling the dubious mind with dreadful thoughts
Of poutings, difcords, jealoufies, and cares
Extravagantly great, entail'd on wedlock,
Which to avoid, the lover checks his paffion,
And, miferable, dies a bachelor.

IMPROMPTU,

ON HEARING

OF

IMPROMPTU,

THE MARRIAGE OF CAPTAIN FOOT, OF THE ROYAL NAVY, WITH MISS PATTEN, WHICH WAS SOLEMNIZED ON A WEDNESDAY MORNING.

MAY
AY the union cemented on Wednesday, at Matin,
Be blissful, and crown'd with abundance of fruit!
May the Foot ever firmly adhere to the Patten,

The Patten for ever ftick clofe to the Foot!

And though Pattens are us'd but in moift, dirty weather,
May their journey through life be unclouded and clean!
May they long fit each other;-and moving together,
May only one fole (foul) be still cherifh'd between.
PHILO-NAUTICUS.

Fareham, Hants.

VERSES ON A PORTRAIT OF THE PRINCESS

MARY,

IN THE CHARACTER OF AN ARTIST.

BY P. PINDAR, ESQ

SWEET Nymph, accept a verse from him,
A pupil in the school of Whim,
Too prone to make great folks his sport;
Yet, if he catch one glimpfe of merit,
He fnatches up the pen with fpirit,

To praife it, though it comes from court.
'T is true, that courts are fat hot-beds,
Engend'ring reptiles, noifome weeds,

Which Satire's fcythe will ne'er keep under;
But lo! a charming rofe art thou,-
Receive, then, nymph, my loweft bow,
For giving to the world, a wonder.

[From the Morning Poft.]

WHY vex a moment for the key you've loft?
A fimple key, as trifling as its coft:

But, charming maid, could chance e'er make you par*
With that crofs-warded key, which locks your hes

Could you but lose it, and some star arise
To guide me to the wifh'd-for precious prize,
I'd then unravel each alluring grace

My eye that rivets, but denies th' embrace;
And prove each seeming fally of caprice
Is but the coquetry of love's device:
Thus have we often feen fair Luna's ray
In fportive dalliance on a riv'let play,
Vexing the bofom of the murm'ring stream
With all the gambols of a chequer'd beam;
Till the inconftant winds her veil remov'd,
When all was brightnefs to the stream she lov'd.

H

THE CHOICE.

BY HENRY FOX COOPER.

MIRANDA, fair as op'ning day,

With eyes of heav'nly blue,
And lips as fweet as new-mown hay,
One morn tripp'd o'er the dew;
Her steps towards the garden bent,
To view her fragrant flow'rs;
For thither led by young Content,
She'd pafs fome pleasant hours.
That morn a beau was by her fide,
Who fought her heart to move;
But the, of innocence the pride,
Had never thought of love.
To mark the beauties, Nature's claim,
Was all her wifh and care;
And thus, to turn his am'rous flame,
She spoke with sprightly air:

"Come! tell me whether you admire
These charming flow'rs fo gay;
And which of them you'd most defire,
Rofes or tulips, pray?

"Your rofes, Ma'am," the beau replied,
"Are charming to my eyes;

But then-" (poor Amorofo figh'd,)
"Your two-lips most I prize!"

THE

THE following little Poem has lately been in circulation at Tunbridge Wells. It conveys a delicate compliment to the prefent father of English poetry, the juftice of which will hardly be difputed by thofe who have the advantage of knowing him. It is understood to be the joint compofition of Mrs. Riddell and Sir James Burges: rumour afcribes to the former the first three ftanzas, and the remainder to the latter.

WITH the Mufes and Nature once loit'ring, quoth Time,.
"Your skill you might better employ,

Than in idly contriving fuch works to fublime,
As one stroke of my scythe can destroy.”

"Peace, boafter! your laws," cried a Muse, "you will find One pupil of ours can defy :

Your touch has improv❜d the rich stores of his mind,.
Without quenching the fires of his eye."

"See, where CUMBERLAND files as our conteft he hears, And difplays, as a proof of this truth,

With the treasures of science and knowledge of years,

The spirit and graces of youth."

"Scoff on," Time replied; "the example you bring
As a proof of my pow'r may be fhewn:

The Mufes and Graces may boast of his Spring,
But his Winter I claim as my own.

"You, Nature!' endow'd him with talents, 't is true,
And his mind by the Mufe was allur'd ;

Yet 't was I who directed the fhoot as it grew,.
And by me was his harveft matur'd..

"Of your gifts I allow you to fay what you will,
But here I affert my own claim;

I confess you 're the guardians of Helicon's rill,
But I keep the Temple of Fame.”·

"Be content," cried Apollo, "and hear what I fay;

We may equally claim him as ours:

At his birth Liliumin'd his foul with my ray;
You, each, have augmented his powers.

"To make him immortal then let us unite,
And wide, like his worth, be his praise:
Set our Riddell at work his encomium to write,
Let her hand weave his Chaplet of Bays."

LINES TO THE MEMORY OF MR. JOHN KIRBY,

LATE KEEPER OF NEWGATE PRISON.

HE

ENCE be the dictates of obtrufive mirth,
Far hence the levity of thoughtless fouls,
While to the manes of departed worth

The folemn knell of diffolution tolls.

To each flow found, that ftrikes the lift'ning ear,
The heart refponfive heaves the fad reply,
With fome kind act remembrance holds most dear,
And burdens each recital with a figh.

Though plac'd the scenes of wretchedness to scan,
(Too apt to harden the accuftom'd heart,)
Yet was he known the feeling friend of man,
And oft to mis'ry would a fmile impart.

His was the active charity, to footh

The guilty wretch his efforts could not fave :-
How few, like him, will have the wish to smooth
The paffage to an ignominious grave!

The hapless fufferers, for crimes expell'd—
Whofe every hope with liberty is gone,
Will ever blefs the gentle hand, that held
Power unabus'd-a thing almost unknown.
E'en in the fad receptacle of woe

Will tears of fympathy for once be shed,
Not for themfelves but for this public blow
Tears-that cau beft embalm the honour'd dead.

F. L. M.

W

AN EXCUSE FOR PREJUDICE.

[From the General Evening Poft.]

'HEN prejudice fetters the judgment of man,
It impairs nice diftinctions of thought;

But the fentiment let us applaud when we can,
For 't is often from principle caught.

Both