But so cold and so dull, that the youthful adorer Saw plainly this was not the idol she meant. "Oh, never," she cried, "can I think ofinshrining An image, whose looks are so joyless and dim; "But you little god upon roses reclining, We'll make if you please, Sir, a Friendship of him." So the bargain was struck, with the little god laden, She joyfully flew to her shrine in the grove. "Farewell, said the sculptor, you're not the first maiden

That came but for Friendship, but took away love."

Cold showers of sorrow bath'd her eyes; And her poor heart was torn with sighs; Yet-strange to tell-t'was then I knew Most perfect biiss.

For love, at other times suppress'd,

Was all betrayed at this

I saw him weeping in her eyes,
I heard him breathe amongst her sighs,
And every sob which fill'd her breast,
Thrill'd mine with bliss.

The sight which keen affection clears,
How can it judge amiss?
To me it pictur'd hope, and taught
My spirit this consoling thought,
That Love's sun, tho' it rise in tears,
May set in biiss.

CANZONET.

Oh! weep not thus-we both shall know
Ere long a happier doom;

There is a place of rest below,
Where thou and I shall surely go,
And sweetly sleep releas'd from woe
Within the tomb.

My cradle was the couch of care,

And sorrow rock'd me in it;
Fate seem'd her saddest robe to wear,
On the first day that saw me there,
And darkly shadow'd with despair
My earliest minute.

E'en then the griefs I now possess
As natal boons were given;
And the fair form of happiness
Which hover'd round intent to bless,
Scar'd by the phantoms of distress,
Flew back to heav'n.

For I was made in joy's despite,

And meant for misery's slave;
And all my hours of brief delight,
Fled like the speedy winds of night,
Which soon shall veil this sudden flight
Across my grave.

Verses.

ON THE

DEATH OF GEORGE THE THIRD. The grave has lost its terrors for the heart, His pilgrim follower that broke its chain; But nature will have way, and tears will start, And through its tears the eye of love will strain

To catch the glorious memories that remain, Like clouds empurpled by the parted sun; Spreading their trains upon the sapphire plain,

In richer, holier splendours than when shone Their pomp, transpierced with fire from his meridian throne.

The death-bell toll'd at midnight, and that bell Sent sorrow upon England swift and deep; For on her heart had smote the heavy knell, And England's tears were those that children

weep

WHAT A GOVERNOR OUGHT TO BE.

A FRAGMENT.

What vast endowments should adorn his mind,
To whom the care of milions is assign'd!
Cool judgment to discern the public weal,
Courage to act-humanity to feel!
Skill to direct, benevolence to save;
Nor slave of prejudice, nor party's slave;
Enlighten'd views and dignity of soul,
Grace to conciliate, firmness to controul;
Patron and pattern of the good and wise;
Source of the proudest votary of vice;
Friend of the friendless, parent of the state,
Tho' high exalted, still more good than great;
Such be the man to whom the charge is given,
To rule mankind, the delegate of heaven!
A-Y-T-M.

THE WITHERED ROSE.

The last composition of Mr. Cunningham, and intended, as he expressed himself to a FRIEND, to nhom he presented it, as a real image of himself, being then in a very bad state of health. Sweet object of the zephyr's kiss,

Come,Rose, come courted to my bower:
Queen of the banks! the gardener's bliss!
Come, and abash yon tawdry flower.

Why call us to revokeless doom?
With grief the opeuing buds reply;
Not suffered to extend our bloom,
Scarce, born, alas! before we die!
Man having pass'd appointed years→→

Ours are but days-the scene must close:
And when fate's messenger appears,
What is he bnt a WITHERED ROSE.

TO MISS AMELIA FISHER.
Timid Amelia see appear
With voice harmonious to the ear,
And trace angelic fair,
By modest fears so much dismay'd,
To shew her talents seems afraid,
Or meet the Critic's stare.

Why shrink dear maid from public view?
If you the stage mean to pursue

Dispel those needless fears;
Your voice and figure both conspire
To rank you as an actress higher
Than many twice your years.

If once you conquer being tame
Nought can impede your way to fame,
For Nature is your friend,
The Comic Muse with laughing face
Will place you in great Jordan's place,
Whose fame can never end.
Then study, dear Amelia, pray,
And Nature's dictates strict obey,
With ardent application;

Upheld by these, you've nought to fear
To wealth and Fame your road is clear,
And Public approbation.

With these few hints I'll make an end,
And rest your Valentine and Friend.

TO MISS CAROLINE FISHER. To dear-loved Caroline once more I snatch the pen again to pour The feelings of my breast. In verse, though humble, yet sincere, Attempt to tell how truly dear

Her fame is to my rest.

Y. T

May love of fame, with matchless force, Impel her on in glory's course,

To gain a brilliant name. And what so likely to engage The public favor as the stage,

And lead to wealth and fame. To place that fame on base secure, Much study she must yet endure,

Ere she can claim the bays, Worn with such splendour by O'Neill, Whose loss the Drama long will feel; The pride of modern days. But if to nature she'll attend, (The actress' best and surest friend)

Like her whose loss we mourn,
Study great Shakspeare's, ev'ry line,
His genius will her sense refine,

And place her on the throne,
Left vacant, I am grieved to say,
By fair O'Neill, who, t'other day,
Retired from public life;
Resolved her bright career to close
On Erin's land in sweet repose,
As virtuous friend and wife.
May her example influence thine,
So prays your faithful Valentine.

J. P.

1. WHITE, PRINTER, 41, HOLYWELL STREBT.

No. 4. VOL. II.]

Anecdotes.

(From Dr. King's Political and Literary Anecdotes of his own times.)

ECCENTRICITY.

ABOUT the year 1706, I knew one Mr. Howe, a sensible well-natured man, possessed of an estate of 7001. or 8001. per annum :— he married a young lady of a good family in the west of England, her maiden name was Mallet; she was agreeable in her person and manners, and proved a very good wife. Seven or eight years after they had been married, he rose one morning very early, and told his wife he was obliged to go to the Tower to transact some particular business:-the same day, at noon, his wife received a note from him, in which he informed her that he was under a necessity of going to Holland, and should probably be absent three weeks or a month. He was absent from her seventeen years, during which time she neither heard from him, or of him. The evening before he returned, whilst she was at supper, and with her some of her friends and relations, particularly one Dr. Rose," a Physician, who had married her sister, a billet, without any name subscribed, was delivered to her, in which the writer requested the favour of her to give him a meeting the next evening in the BirdcageWalk, in St. James's Park. When she had read her billet, she tossed it to Dr. Rose, and langhing, "You see, brother," said she, as old as I am, I have got a gallant." Rose, who perused the note with more attention, declared it to be Mr. Howe's hand-writing: this surprised all the company, and so much afected Mrs. Howe, that she fainted away; however, she soon recovered, when it was agreed that Dr. Rose and his wife, with the other gentlemen and ladies who were then at upper, should attend Mrs. Howe the next evening to the Birdcage Walk:-they had not been there more than five or six minutes, when Mr. Howe came to them, and after saluting his friends, and embracing his wife, walked home with her, and they lived together in great harmony from that time to the day of

I was very well acquainted with Dr. Rose; he was of a French family. I often met him at King's Coffee-house, near Golden-square, and he frequently entertained me with this remark

ble story.

[PRICE 6d.

his death. But the most curious part of my tale remains to be related. When Howe left his wife, they lived in a house in Jermynstreet, near St. James's church; he went no farther than to a little street in Westminster, where he took a room, for which he paid five or six shillings a week, and changing his name, and disguising himself by wearing a black wig, (for he was a fair man) he remained in this habitation during the whole time of his absence. He had had two children by his wife when he deported from her, who were both living at that time; but they both died young in a few years after. However, during their lives, the second or third year after their father disappeared, Mrs. Howe was obliged to apply for an Act of Parliament to procure a proper settlement of her husband's estate, and a provision for herself out of it during his absence, as it was uncertain whether he was alive or dead. This act he suffered to be solicited and passed, and enjoyed the pleasure of reading the progress of it in the votes, in a little coffee-house, near his lodging, which he frequented. Upon his quitting his house and family in the manner I have mentioned, Mrs. Howe at first imagined, as she could not conceive any other cause for such an abrupt elopement, that he had contracted a large debt unknown to her, and by that means involved himself in difficulties which he could not easily surmount; and for some days she lived in continual apprehensions of demands from creditors, of seizures, executions, &c. But nothing of this kind happened; on the contrary, he did not only leave his estate quite free and unencumbered, but he paid the bills of every tradesman with whom he had any dealings; and upon examining his papers, in due time after he was gone, proper receipts and discharges were found from all persons, whether tradesmen or others, with whom he had any manner of transaction; or money concerns. Mrs. Howe, after the death of her children, thought proper to lessen her family of servants, and the expenses of her housekeeping; and therefore removed from her house in Jermyn-street, to a little house in Brewerstreet, near Golden-square. Just over against

* London is the only place in all Europe where a man can find a secure retreat, or remain, if he pleases, many years unknown. If he pays constantly for his lodging, for his provisions, and for whatsoever else he wants, nobody will ask a question concerning him, or enquire whence he comes, whither he goes, &c.