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riage; the unlimited number of wives and concubines, not to mention the marriage of sisters, amongst the ancient Egyptians and Athenians, with the borrowing and lending of wives amongst the Romans of which the great Cato was a remark able instance..

"It likewise may be alledged, as some excuse for our ancestors, that by such a custom they avoided the common mischiefs of jealousy, the injuries of adultery, the confinement of single, marriages, the luxury and expense of many wives and concubines, and the partiality of parents in the education of their own children -all of which are considerations that have fallen under the care of inany famous law-givers."'

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This practice continued to the third century; as Dio tells us, that about the beginning of this period, when Severus invaded Caladonia, they had all their wives in common, and brought up all their children likewise, not knowing to what father any of them belonged: and to confirm this account, he relates a conversation between the Empress Julia and the wife of Argentocoxius, a British prince; in which the Empress, having upbraided the British ladies with the barbarity of this promiscuous intercourse, the other (who knew the intrigues of the Roman court perfectly well) made her the following reply- which, if it does not justify the custom, at least fully proves the existence of it.

*In the latter times of villainage in England, the lord of the manor had the privilege of lying with the bride on the first night of her marriage; and this privilege was often claimed, and submitted to, without any disgrace attaching to either of the parties.

"It is to you this loose conduct applies, and not to us: we Britons fulfil the work of nature much bet ter than you Romans, as we coha. bit only with the best selected men, and openty; whilst you commit your private adulteries with the busest and most unworthy."

Whether she thought this answer might extenuate the British practice by retaliation, or whether she was not sensible of the disgrace from custom (which last is most likely), certain it is, that other nations at this period, had as preposterous customs.

Anecdote.

WHEN Foote was tried in Dub. lin for the libel upon George Faulkener the printer (whom he had dramatized as Peter Paragraph), the late Judge Robinson was one of the bench. This was an old, crabbed peevish gentleman, wore a wig of a singular shape, and had his forehead broke out in blotches, which (when in an ill-temper) he was in the habit of picking off, and throwing down upon the clerks, attornies, &c. beneath the bench. Shortly after his trial, Foote appeared upon the stage as Justice MIDAS, with a costume, wig, and countenance so exactly that of the judge, and with the blotches which be picked and distributed with ges tures so perfectly according to the model that the whole audience, by most of whom he was known (especially in the gallery), were convulsed with laughter, many crying out, Ro binson! Robinson!

POETRY.

POETRY:

We have been favoured with the following Prologue which has spoken at the Private Theatre Kilkenny, by Mr. Richard Power. We have been pro mised more of them. Such a composition as the present coming from the pen of a Bushe, needs no apology from us, in thus rescuing it from oblivion-Mr. Power was ill a short time before he spoke it.

PROLOGUE

SINCE health on gehial wing returned t'impart
Strength to my limbs, and feeling to my heart,
No other scene, no other sound could give,
Such heart-felt transport as I now receive;
For so much kindness shewn in every way,'
Our best's the slender tribute we can pay.

But ah! how humble must these scenes appear,
No tiny hero, no young Roscius here ;
No little Grildrig for a Glumdalclitch,
No Thumb his Huncamunca to bewitch;
Our tragic queens for full-grown heroes sigh,
For full group queens our tragic heroes die.
Those who to fashion would conform their plan
But play the child, whilst infants play the man;
Fashion, as well as life, is like the stage
And plays a different part in every age.
In both, at either verge extreme we see,
But childhood and a second infancy.

First when he reads, what joy the child receives,
Grown old, as pleased he views, the Forty Thieves.
Oh Mother Goose, couldst thou but raise thy head
From where thou slumberest, 'midst the mighty dead,
Proud wouldst thou see in reason's such defeat
Thy fame enshrined, thy victory complete ;
View prostrate Otway with triumphant eye,
And vanquished Shakespeare pass unheeded by;
That Blue-Beard may with regal pomp appear,
Whilst Orson's suckled by a living bear.

But hark! what storms of praise, what wonder draws,
From Drury's rows this thunder of applause;
Have Barry, Mossop, left the realms of night?
Restor❜d is Garrick to our longing sight?
No-Garrick sleeps-nor, Siddons, do they prize,
Thy'xpressive silence or thy speaking eyes
Dogs claim these plaudits, they in water souse,
And fetch and carry for the wondering house.
A horse was consul in Rome's ancient days ;
Carlo's a Roscius in our modern plays.

M 2

For you, from London, far more wise, more plain,
Who sense refine not, 'till no sense remain;
Here venturous do we dare t'expose to view
What nature pencil'd and old Shakespeare drew;
Here beauty listens to instructive plays,

Here reason need not blush when taste gives praise,
An ample shield here lib'ral candour spreads,
Whence slander's arrows drop with blunted heads;
And kind indulgence now so often known
Inspires a spirit scarce confess'd our own.
Mean while, old Leinster, thro' her glad domain
Sees ancient splendour reassume its reign,
Sees her own peers, with a material smile,
Mix 'mongst her sons, nor spurn their native isle.

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HERE rests a youth unfortunately great,
Who dared all danger, who defy'd all fate;
All sordid plans, all selfish anns above,
Whose ruling passion, was his country's love
Who thro' his day of life with lustre ran,
Who lived an hero, and who died a man ;
O'er worthless dust, the gazing eye may see,
That it was not, but what ourselves should be.
O'er vulgar tombs, let marble trophies rise
The pageant pomp but tells us "here he lies,"
But E's name shall find in years to come,
Each tongue a monument, each heart a tomb;
While the deep sigh each bursting bosom gives,
Shall speak in deathless letters, "Here he lives."

ALEXANDER'S FEAST: AN ODE.

BY DR. WOLCOT.

TIMOTHEUS now, in music handy,
Struck up a tune call'd-Drops of Brandy;
The hero pulls out Thaïs to the dance;
Timotheus now struck up a reel;

The couple skipp'd with nimble heel,
Then sat them down, and drank a quart of Nantz.

Now did the master of the lyre

On dancing exercise his fire:

He sung of hops at court, and wakes, and fairs;
He sung of dancing dogs, and dancing bears;

He

He praised the minuet of Nan Cately, And lumps of pudding and Moll Pately: The king grew proud, and soon began so reel, A hopping inspiration seized his heel.

Bravi, bravi, the soldier croud

In admiration cried aloud,

The lady dances like a bold Thalestris,
And Alexander hops like Monsieur Vestris.
Again, so furiously they dance a jig,
The lady lost her cap, the hero lost his wig.
The motly mob, behind, before,
Exclaim'd encore, encore, encore:
Proud of th' applause, and justly vain,
Thaïs made a curtsey low,

Such as court ladies made before the Queen.
Alexander made a bow,

Such as the royal levee oft has seen ;
And then they danc'd the reel again.
Of vast applause the couple vain,
Delighted, danc'd the reel again:
Now in, and now out,

They skipp'd it about,

As tho' they felt the madness of the moon ;
Such was the power of Timothy and tune.
When the dub a dub, dub a dub drum,
In triumph behind e'm beat-Go to bed Tom.
And now in their ire,

Return'd from the fire,

In revenge for the Greeks that were dead,
The king and his punk

Got most horribly drunk

And together went reeling to bed.

Feb. 5, 1808.

THE BIRTH OF WIT.

AS Fancy strayed to gather flow'rs,
And breathe the scented sweets of May,
To vine-clad hills and shady bow'rs,
The maiden bent her silent way.
Young Bacchus saw the wand'ring maid;
Her charms inflamed his eager soul:
And while she slept beneath the shade,
The God upon her slumbers stole.
Time crown'd the secret blest embrace,
And gave the pair an offspring fit;
A boy with every charming grace,
And call'd the heavenly infant, Wit.

STATE OF PUBLIC AFFAIRS IN FEBRUARY.

SWEDEN.

THE romantic sovereign of this icy region, neither alarmed at the power of Russia and France, not taught by the recent and degraded state of the unfortunate princes of Sardinia, Naples, Prussia, Brunswick, Portugal, and other minor and travelling courts; deprived of ter ritories, power of refuge, seems de termined, by the assistance of a promised British ariny and 100,000 pounds per month, to try his strength with the physical force of all Europe led on by the greatest masters in the art of war, and roused by all the passions that are united in insulted ambition and impatient power. The age of chivalry is not yet extinct, it lives in the descendant of the great Gustavus, retained as the last hopes of ancient dynasties and unfortunate monarchs, at the price of one hundred thousand pounds a month, a sum so unequal to the great undertaking, that it would almost create a suspicion of the sincerity or hopes of the British minister, in any reasonable bring, who would consider the absurdity of risquing his crown for a sum not uncommonly applied by an individual in England to the support of a manufactory; for were all the gold in Europe applied to the purpose, no ray of hope could be rationally entertained, that a young man, an utter stranger to military life, whose intire country does not contain 4,000,000 of people, and so deficient in articles of the first necessity, that it is apprehended a British army destined to co-operate in the defence of Sweden, must rely intirely for their subsistance on provisions of British growth.

AMERICA.

The industry and resources of this new nation have placed it, within

the short period of twenty-five years, in such a distinguished point of political and commercial eminence, that it now ranks as the second commercial nation in the universe, and the first for its political and religious liberty.

Its successful struggle with the parent country, its first rebellion directed by the pen of a stay-maker, the diplomacy of a printer, and the sword of a farmer, have saved it from Percival and his Bishop, from the horrors and expenses of the frequent wars she should have shared in, had she continued a dependant province of Great Britain.

To her firm and enlightened citi. zens she owes her present unexampled prosperity, neither the dupe of statesmen, the sport of bigots, nor the victim of mercantile monopolists.

She has nearly succeeded in driving England herself from the European market, in the sale of East and West India produce.

This enviable attitude of commercial and political elevation, exasperates a nation that needs the exclusive trade of the world, to assist her to pay the interest of a debt incurred by victories won and continents lost.

The sullen disposition she has lately shewn, by the embargo on her own shipping, indicates nothing conciliatory towards the capturers of the Chesapeake. We are gravely told by the English news-makers, of the calamities this measure of embargo have already occasioned, they assert the populace are crying out for bread, and the English mob believe that a country two thousand miles square, is not able to maintain six million of citizens; a country that produces more of the necessaries of

life

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