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POETRY.

Mary's address to Jane, on consi- Mine enemies were far away. dering her encouragement to hope for

How happy ker lote.

I saw thy face, ifien look'd again,

And raptur'd, gaz'd on lovely jane, The sprightly vigoor of my youth is fed, Lonely and sick on death is all my thought Forgetting all my former pain.

How happy Oh spare, Persiphere, this guiltless bead, Love, too much Love, is all thy suppli. ants fault.

I fancied, oh delusive thought, Hammond's Love Elegy, No. 4. I fancied Jane with love was franghi,

And had not yet "her Hal” forgot ; OH Jenny, when in other days,

How happy 1 sang in humblé hoping lays, Thy name, deserving every praise. I spoke my love, I hop'd the best,

How happy. And now with joy her heart addressid,

I thought with Jane, I'd soon be blest; While yet I hop'd to nieet thee where,

How happy, With joy and pride I could appear, And whisper love into thine ear. Hear it ye winds that pass me by,

How happy. And thro' the world incessant Ay,

Proclaiin this sorrow speaking sigh ; Each morn“I rose with jocund glee,"

How alier'd. Each morning then was kind to me, And when I thought on meeting thee. My Jane, whose love I ever sought, How happy. Whose heart could ne'er by gold be

bought, The day arriv'd, the wish'd for day, Has now her Henry's love forgot. Within me shone a pleasing ray,

How wretched.

THE DRAMIAD.

WHERE Welch and Irish raise a Babel din ;
Where balmy sweels unite with stink of Gin;
Where, to ensure the crowded City health,
The fertile fields bestow their double wealin,
And pour profuse, from Dairies and from Dells,
A fresh supply of Aymphs and Nonpareils ;
But where too soon they lose (both fruit and fuir)
Their native virtues with their native air ;--
lo short, where Covent Garden spreads her stores, -
And mingles healing herbs with sickly —,
True to the strange confusion of the place,
Twin Temples stand, in architect'ral grace,
Here, all that's opposite in nature join,
Sosro! and Mirth, Folly and Wit combine ;

While

While now a laugh, and now a tear betray
The changing humours of an April day,
Here rival Goddesses pieer their claim,
And wars for doubiful empire fiercely tlame;
Here, Sense and Nonsense struggle for ihe field,
Scorning alike to compromise or yield:
They form their Troops, their banners stream on high,
And Wits with Foots in arduous contest vie ?

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Say, mighty NONSENSE, who and what they are,
That range

iñ ranks around ihy leaden car?
Whose "Grey Goose Quilts," heir weapons of offence,
Wave in rebellion 'gainst the laws of Sense :
Who scorn her mandates, and who mock her rules,
And glory in the well.earn d name of Fools.
First in the throng, see ve 'ran REYNOLDS stand,
The hoary Nestor of the foolish band. :
He heeds'not critic wrath, but wisely weighs
“ His solid pudding against empty praise;"
Vaunts, with complacent pride, to starvling wights,
How much he pockels, and how much he writes ;
Quires upon quires proclaim his genius great,
But must be valued, not by wit, but weight;
His teeming Muse, with embryo fancy big,
Special to breed, or, rather say to pig,
Disiends her womb, to gave a feeble race.
Whose life we only by their death can trace ;
Whose lasi sobs mingle with their new-born sighs,
Who open but to close their languid eyes ;
While this now hailing first the orient sun,
Treads on the heels of that whose course is run.

But outrag'd Nature, who doth still ordain,
Her laws immotable, nor made in vain,
Stamps with deformity th' untimely brood,
Marks them for bastardis, monstrous, wild, and crude.
Light without euse ; guy without wit--the Elves
Are like no earthlý objects but themselves.

REYNOLDS' best jokes lie in the actors faces,
Who rival Clown Grimaldi in grimaces ;
His happiest curns, that call down loud applause,
Are but the twistings of poor MUNDEN's jaws ;.
His strange surprizes cannot be foreseen,
Conceal'd they squat, bevind a chimney screen;
Toscan his plots' ihe wisest is not able,
Till the o'er turning of some Pembroke table.
Should of his Jests the point not plain appear,
A pair of spectacles will make it clear,

Ail

All who have eyes his humours understand,
And ev’n the blind can feel it with their hand.

Such is the Goddess' first and fav’rite Son,
Who scours the field with foppery and fun.
Her staunchest champion in ev'ry stage,
Hippant in youth, and foolish in old age !

FAIR ELLEN.

BENEATH this leafy shade I'll lye,

And tell my sorrows to the wind,
Yon gliding stream shall bear my cry,

To her who used me too unkind.
I'll call remembrance to my aid,

And dwell on every early scene,
Where Ellen, lovely haughty maid,

In dalliance sweet with me had been,
Sure well I recollect the day,

: When first fair Elien's face I saw,
When first I felt her pleasing sway;

O'er my poor heart extend its law,
How oft by Nora's shelv'ing side,

With hands entwin'd, adawn we stray'd
Whilst all the little songsters vied,

To please and dulcet greeting paid,
As placid as calm Nora's wave,

The joyous hours old time did roll,
When Ellen in soft acceats gave,

A hope that I'd possess her soul.
Th'impassion'd touch th'extatic kiss,

The nameless joys that lovers know,
I felt-yes more than angels bliss,

A bliss unmingled then with woe.
Ab what a charge am I to beár,

How sad a doom am I to mourn,
Fair Ellen from my soul to tear;

Is more than can by me be borne.
Man, brutal man, why didst thou make,

It ever shameful to be poor ;
The naked heart we will not take,

But wealth must be the sordid lure.
Ellen is rich and I have nought,

And her proud parents me despise,
A noble soul with toodnesp fraught

Is mockery only in their eyes.

That

That Ellen loves her Henry still,

Unmov'd by gold I'd fondly say,
But no! my misery's mead to fill;

Her hand she soon will give away.
Farewell then all ye early loves,

Ye pristine innocent delights;
Yon streams farewell, farewell ye groves,

Abode of all my frolic Hights.
Then let me solitary tread,

Life's rugged, sunless, sullen way,
Till down I lay my wearied head
And Death's

dark night shall close my day.

" To Mrs. B of Trim, on the sudden Death of her beloved Child."

WERE I to strive, to sooth thy sorrowing breast.
I'd tell thee Guroline is now at rest,
Remov'd from misery and certain woe,
Which all experience while they live below;
I'd tell thee, “ Caroline' is now carest,
By Saints above, and ranges with the blest
Of God, th' eternal and delightful plains,
Where God the Saviour in full glory reigns ;
I'd tell thee Caroline now joins the Choir,
Filld with the pure and Heavenly fire,
And strikes (in extacy) the joyous Lyre.

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But first of all, I'd tell thee, thou shalt see
Thy darling Child when thou from earth art free,
Shait see her, know her, ne'er again to part ;
And thus I'd sooth the sorrow's of thy heart.

H. M.

A Fragment.

NEAR where with proud imperions mien,
Yon verdant hill hangs o'er the plain,
In trees en wrapt a villa lies,
The seat of all on earth I prize,
Nine long long moons have gone their round,
Since I have trod this much lov'd ground;
Nine ages to my heart they seem,
So slow steals on Tigre's sluggard stream,
And oh ! if those su drear appear
How will I live life's tedious year,
Henceforth when no joy-cheated hour,
Shall e'er be passed in that sweet bowls;

W*ben

When ne'er again th’entrancing smile;
Of her I love shall time beguile,
When ev’n the heart which once was mine,
She'll soon to some proud swain resign,
Distraction! O when low'rs that day
Its eve shall close o'er my cold clay ;
For then my frenzied maddened sense,
To hell itself would fly far bence.

THE PROMISE.

ERE I left the green fields where my forefather's dwelt,

In the tumult of cities to rove,
In silence | whisper'd the passion I felt,

And dear was the promise of love.
On her cheek stood the tear drop which inocence shed,

From the fountain of purity drawn;
But the tear disappear'd as the passing blush fled,

Like the glow ihat encrimsons the dawn.
When last by the wild waves of Cowan we stray'd

Ere fate gave the signal to part, ·
Whilst the wind of the west in her light tresses play'd,

How dear was the sigh of the heart.
And, Maid, when I forfeit the promise I gave,

In the circles of falsehood to rove,
May the heart which I pledg'd by the white-rolling wave,

Never beat to the transport of Love.

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Translated from the Irisli.
GIVE me a kiss before you go,

And then we'll part for ever :
I little thought she would do som

May all the Saints in Heaven forgive her!
The kiss I felt whole weeks and days,

And yet it made my bosom shiver;
She fled, and left me in amaze :--

May all the Saints in Heaven forgive her.
Oft have I travers'd hills of snow,

Oft have I cross'd the dreadful river,
To press that cheek where roses blow:-

May all the Saints in Heaven forgive her!
And yet, perhaps, she may relent,

And cheer me once again.--110 never---
The greatest Sinner may repenta-

May all the Saints in Heaven forgive her.

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