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Nor let thy sun's decline

One noble thought assuage;
But rather, like old wine,

Grow generous with age.
Through life thy soul be chainless,
In death thy name be stainless.
When he who writes this verse,

Shall smile not, nor repine,
Be thou beside his hearse,

He could not look on thine !
And, when thy shroud is o'er thee,
May a son of thine deplore thee. .


A Child, eight years old.
MARGARET, we never met before,
And, MARGARET, we may meet no more :

What shall I say at parting?
Not half a moon has run her race,
Since first I saw your fairy face,
Around this gay and giddy place

Sweet smiles and blushes darting :
Yet from my soul I freely tell,
I cannot help but wish you well.
I dare not wish you countless wealth,
Or host of friends, unfailing health,

Or freedom from affliction ;
I dare not wish you beauty's prize, .
Carnation lips, and bright blue eyes,
That look through tears and break in sighs :

Then hear my benediction ;
Of these good gifts be you possest,
Just in the measure God thinks best.

But, little MARGARET, may you be,
All that his eye delights to see,

All that He loves and blesses :

The Lord in darkness be your light,
Your friend in need, your shield in fight,
Your health, your treasure, and your might,

Your comfort in distresses,
Your joy through every future breath,

And your eternal hope in death.
Scarborough, Sept, 1814, (MONTGOMERY.)


(See Youth's Instructer, for Jan. 1822, page 13.)
The sun may rise, and rippling streams.
Disport them with his orient beams ;
In splendour he may cross the skies,
In glory set on western seas :-
But often, fong ere he can reach
His splendour's height, or glory's stretch,
Dark clouds o'ercast a dimming veil,
And where he is, no eye can tell.
The seed may sprout, the plant appear,
And live for many a coming year;
The flower may pass its latest stage,
And die at last from very age :-
But oft, while yet the bud is clos’d,
Some cruel hand, by none oppos’d,
Cuts short the weak, resistless flower,
And plucks the “ creature of an hour.”
Thus Edward, in his sun's bright morn,
Was of his opening beauties shorn;
Thus Edward was, while yet in bud,
By death, with eye malignant view'd :
He mark'd the prize,-a prize so pure;
His shaft was sharp,--his aim was sure.
O'er EDWARD's grave the willows weep,
On EDWARD's grave the night-dews sleep;
There cowslips bend their lovely stem,
Emblems of innocence, and him!


Printed by T. CORDEUX, 14, City. Road, London.

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AN ACCOUNT OF DOVER CASTLE, (Estracted from “ The Beauties of ENGLAND AND Wales, by


• WITH A WOOD-CUT. Tuis fortress occupies about 'thirty-five acres of ground: the hill on which it stands is very steep and rugged on the side of the town and harbour; and towards the sea it is a complete precipice of upwards of three hundred and twenty feet from its basis on the shore. There can be little doubt but that the site of the Castle was once a British hill-fortress, long previous to the invasion of CÆSAR, or to the subsequent conquest of this island by the Roman arms. Some antiquaries assign the foundation of this Castle to Cæsar himself; and the ancient Pharos, which still remains on the upper part of the Castle-hill, furnishes unquestionable evidence of Roman workmanship. Im. mediately contiguous to the Pharos, are the ruins of an ancient church, which is generally stated to have been built by King Lucios in the second century. What. ever may be the fact as to à Christian edifice having been founded here at that early period, the remains of the building are certainly of much later date. During VOL. VI.

II .

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