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He would as soon pretend to sing

As to attempt another trip.
So Jack, when his red gills are wet,

Well dipp'd in claret or champaigne,
He'll sing, and joke, and swear, and bet,

And all his wit is up amain.
But in the morn Jack's gills grow dry,

His tongue and wit alike are slack;
You quickly see by his dead eye

No flounder is more flat than Jack.

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LINES

Written under a Miniature.

AGAINST LIFE.
(From the Greek of Prosidippus.)
WHAT tranquil road, unvex'd by strife,
Can mortals choose thro' human life?
Attend the courts, attend the bar
There discord reigns, and endless jar.
At home the weary wretches find
Severe disquietude of inind;
To till the fields gives toil and pain ;
Eternal terrors sweep the main.
If rich, we fear to lose our store ;
Need and distress await the poor.
Sad care the bands of llymen give;
Friendless, forlorn, th' unmarried live;
Are children born ? we anxious groan;
Childless our lack of heirs we moan.
Wild giddy schemes our youth engage;
Weakness and want depress old age,
Would Fate then with my wish comply,
I'd never live, or quickly die.

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FOR LIFE.

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(From the Greek of Metrodorus.)
MANKIND may walk, unvex'd by strife,
Thro' every road of human life.
Fair wisdom regulates the bar,
And peace concludes the wordy war.
At home auspicious mortals find
Serene tranquillity of mind.
All-beauteous nature decks the plain,
And merchants plough for gold the main.
Respect arises from our store;
Security from being poor.
More joys the bands of Hymen give;
Th' unmarried with more freedom live,
If parents, our blest lot we own;
Childless, we have no cause to moan.
Firm vigour crowns our youthful stage;
And venerable hairs old age.
Since all is good, then who wonld cry
“ I'd never live, or quickly die ?”

TO A LADY THAT WISHED TO DIE.
TAY form, sweet fair, to earth is dae ;

Not yet to heav'n repair,
Since angels are on earth so few,

And are so many there.

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Trifles.

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POOR JACK'S CASE.

THE INFIDEL,
I LOVE thee, charming Jessy, well ;
But, Jessy, you're au infidel-
You vowy men swear but to deceive,
And nought on earth will you believe,
Save this one truth--this only one-
You're lovely as the roving sun.
But thus I swear, my truth to prove,
By all th' artillery of love,
By all the roses all the myrtles,
All the ring doves and the turtles
E'er employed by absent lover,
His secret passion to discover;
By thine azure eye of brightness,
By the fairy foot of lightness,

A Simile.

THERE is a fish, as sailors tell,

That quits the ocean, and will fly
A journey in the air as well

As any bird, but not so high;
And when the salt drops quit his wing,

And he is dry as any chip,

Ruby lips and flowing tresses,

At thy convicting voice, for thou canst blast All that beauty's power encreases;

His guilty spirit with a tougue of fire ! By th' angelic smiles and graces,

Ab! who would scatter for a fleeting grasp Lovers see in ladies' faces,

Of unblest gold, a bane upon the sweet All the flames and piercing darts,

Reviving hour of Nature's rest?-Ah! who Ang all the broken bleeding hearts,

Would feel the inextinguishable curse Love-indited tablets show

Of his own reason? nursing, as it were,
Will you now believe me?--No!

A serpent's venom in each brooding thought.
'Tis Conscience like a heav'n-born Seraph sits
On the watch-tow'r of life, and seems to light

The friendly beacon 'gainst Temptation's storm
TO CHARLOTTE.

Destructive: Conscience gives the genial smile,
On New Year's Day.

The calm, untainted cheerfulness of soul

That guiltless Poverty dares call its own! BEHOLD another year has sped

"Tis that stern pow'r which never smil'd on vice, But, Charlotte, thou hast nought to dread, Though trimly wrapp'd in grandeur's glittring Since Time will ev'ry beauty spare;

garb. Time koows what's perfect, and well knows, "Twould take him ages to compose Another damsel half so fair.

THE WIDOW TO IIER HOUR GLASS.

1

Verses.

INVOCATION TO POVERTY.

BY THE LATE MR. FOX.

OH, poverty! of pale, consumptive hue,
If thou delight'st to haunt me, still in view;

If still thy presence must my steps attend, ili At least continue, as thou art,--my friend !

When Scotch example bids me be unjust,
Faise to iny word, or faithless to my trust,
Bid me the baneful error quickly see,
And shun the world, to find repose with thee;
When vice to wealth would turn ny partial eye,
Or interest shut my ear to sorrow's cry,
Or courtier's custom would my reason bend,
My foe to Batter,---or desert my friend;
Oppose, kind poverty, thy temper'd shield,
And bear me off unvanquish'd from the field.
If giddy fortune e'er return again,
With all her idle, restless, wanton train,
Her magic glass should false ambition hold,
Or avarice bid me put my trust in gold-
To my relief, thou virtuous goddess, haste,
And with thee bring thy daughters, ever chaste,
Health ! liberty! and wisdom! sisters bright;
Whose charms can make the worst condition light;
Beneath the hardest fute the mind can cheer,
Can heal affliction, and disarm despair!
In chains, in torments, pleasure can bequeath,
And dress in smiles the tyrant hour of death!

COME, friend, I'll turn thee up again :
Companion of the lonely hour!
Spring thirty times hath fed with rain
And cloth'd with leaves my humble bower,

Since thou hast stood

In frame of wood,
On chest or window by my side:
At every birth still thou wert near,
Still spoke thine admonitions clear

And when my husband died,
I've often watch'd thy streaming saud
And seen the growing mountain rise,
And often found life's hopes to stand
Ou props as weak in wisdom's eyes :

Its conic crown

Still sliding down,
Again heap d up, then down again;
The sand above more hojlow grew,
Like days and years still fill'sing through,

And mingling joy and pain,
While I thus spin and sometimes sing,
(For now and then my heart will glow)
Thou measur'st Time's expanding wing:
By thee the noontide hour I know:

Though silent thou,

Still shalt thou flow,
And jog along thy destined way:
But when I glean'd the sultry fields,
When earth her yellow harvest yields,

Thou get'st a holiday.
Steady as truth on either end
Thy daily task performing well,
Thou’rt meditation's constant friend,
And strik'st the heart without a bell:

Come, lovely May!

Thy lengthen'd day
Shall gild once more my native plain;
Curl inward here, sweet woodbine flower ;---
Companion of the lonely hour,

I'll turn thee up again.

CONSCIENCE.
CONSCIENCE, thou whisper of the soul!-

thou form
Unseen, yet terrible!-Sleep seldom sets
Its earthly seal upon those eyes of thive!
Touch but th' alarum, and though hous'd in

wealth
And pow'r, still shall the mighty shake at thee!
Self-horrified-e'en lordly man turus pale

ON THE CHANGES OF LIFE.
THE rolling years by trsns decay,
And life recedes from day to day;
The golden Sun, that gives us light,
That Sun departod brings us night,

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And go, or poor, or dook'd with state, And love the more ; and sootbe, and bless
To visit countries, see the great ;

Man in his utter wretchedness.
From East to West, from time to time,
From man to man, from clime to clime ;
You'll find, as tharo' the world you range,

THE PLAGUE OF LONDON, 1666.
All things are changed, or on the change : The following very poetical and impressive de-
The beast, the bird—the tree, the flow'r

scription is extracted from the City of the Tht humble cot, and castle tow'r

Plague,by Wilson.
The sea, the stream-the stars, the Moon-
The air, the sky—the Earth, the Sun-

KNOW ye what you will meet with in the city! Must all the last, great change obey,

Together will ye walk, thro' long, long streuls, And pass in nothingness away!

All standing silent as a midnight church. How then, fond Man, these facts despise,

You will hear nothing but the browo red grass A world in ashes, and the skies

Rustling beneath your feet; the very beating Dissolved-build hopes on hopes below,

Of your own hearts will awe you; tbe small voice And wish them fix'd-then think them so.

Or that vain bauble, idly counting time, Know, all of life's a cheating breath,

Will speak a solenn language in the desert. And nothing's certain here but death?

Look up to Ileaven, and there the sultry clouds, Go, trifler of the globe, you rule,

Still threatening thunder, lower with grim delight, The worm, the god-the sage, the fool

As if the spirit

of the plague dwelt there, The saint, the sinner-sin no more

Dark’ning the city with the shadows of death. You're gods, indeed, when sin is o'er!

Know ye that hideous hub-bub? Hark, far off All wit is folly-wisdom dross

A tumult-like an echo!-on it comes, Ambition, nonsense-pride, remorse

Weeping and wailing, shrieks and groaning Unless Religion's soothing care

prayer : Direct the thought, the reason clear,

And louder than all outrageous blasphemy. The passions still, the mind control,

The passing storm hath left the silent streets. And calm in all the restless soul !

And are these houses near you tenantless ? Why rolls the Sun along on high,

Over your beads from a window—suddenly Dilates his beam, and lights the sky?

A ghastly face is thrust, and yells of death Why shines the Earth with vernal geen,

With voice not human. Who is he that tlies, And flow'rs and fruitage swell the scene?

As if a demon dogg'd him on his path? Wliy lives tlie ox, and lives to toil,

With ragged hair, white face, and blood-shot eyes, And bows bis strength to till the soil,

Raving, he rushes past you; 'till he falls, Unless a God the whole design'd

As if struck by lightning, down upon the stones, Obsequious to the human mina ?

Or, blind madness, dash d against the wall, That mind immortal! and how great

Sinks bucknurd into stillness. Stand aloof, The change to that immortal state!

And let the pests triumphant chariot Hold then, awhile, successful strife,

llave open way advancing to the tomb. ' Time leads us on to death or life;

See how he mocks the pomp and pageantry A scene of things, a world on high

Of earthly kings! a miserable cart, A length of pain--a round of joy,

Jleaped up with human bodies! dragged along A life or deatis, which then shall be,

By pale steeds, skeleton avatomies ! When Time evolves Eternity!

And onwards urg'd by a wan neagre wretch,
S. H.

Dooni'd never to return from the foul pil,
Whither, with oaths, he drives his load of horror.

Would ye look in? Grey hairs and golden tresses,
WOMAN.

Wan slirivell’d cheeks that have not smil'd for

years, -thou shalt stand

And many a rosy visage smiling still;

Bodies in the noisoine weeds of beggary wrapt, A Deity, sweet Wonian, and be worshipped.

With age decrepid, and wasted to the bone;

And youthful frames, august and beautiful; GONE from her cheek is the summer bloom, In spite of mortal paugs—there lie they all And her breath hath lost all its faint perfume, Emirac'd in ghastliness! But look not long, Aud the gloss hath dropped from her golden hair, For haply 'mid the faces glimmering there, And her forehead is pale, tho' no longer fair : The well-known cheek of some beloved friend And the Spirit that sate on her soft blue eye,

Will meet thy gaze, or some small snow-white

hand, Is struck with cold mortality;

Bright with the ring that holds her lover's hair. And the smile that played on her lip hath fled,

Let me sit down beside you. I am faint And every grace hath now left the dead.

Talking of horrors that I look'd upon
Like slaves they obeyed her in height of power,

At last without a shudder.
But left her all in the wintry hour :
And the crowds that swore for her love to die,

Loudon: Printed for the Proprietors by H.Hewitt, Shrank from the tone of her last sad sigli:

145, High Holburn, Published at 42, HolywellAnd this is Mau's fidelity.

street, Strand; and sold by Sherwood, Neely,

and Jones, Paternoster-row; Simpkin and Mar"Tis Woman alone, with a firmer heart,

shall, Stationers'-court; and may be had of all Cau see all these idols of life depart,

Booksellers,

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Anecdotes.

daugliter to visit her in prison, taking care that she brought her nothing to eat.

Many days passed over in this manner, licui hais SERVILIA.---Among the numerous vic

when the gaoler, at length surprised that tims of the tyranny of Nero, was one Ba

the prisoner lived so long without food, reas Soranus, a man, as Tacitus informs and suspecting the daughter, took means us, of singular vigilance and justice in

of secretly observing their interviews.--the discharge of his duty. During his He then discovered that the affectionate confinement, his daughter Servilia was

daughter had all the while been nourishapprehended, and brought into the Senate ing her mother with her own milk. Amazed to be arraigned. The crime laid to her at so tender, and at the same time so charge was, that she had turned into mo

ingenious an artifice, he related it to the ney all her ornaments and jewels, and the triumvir, and the triumvir to the præror, most valuable part of her dress, to defray who thought the fact merited stating in the expence of consulting magicians. To the assembly of the people. This prothis the young Servilia, with a flood of duced the happiest effects; the criminal tears, replied, “That she had indeed was pardoned, and a decree passed, that consulted magicians, but the whole of the mother and the daughter should be her enquiry was to know whether the maintained for the remainder of their Emperor and Senate would afford pro

lives at the expence of the public, and tection and safety to her dear and indul- that a temple, sacred to filial piety, should gent parent against his accusers. “With be erected near the prison. this view," said she, “I presented the diviners, men till now utterly unknown ADOPTED SON. --- At the battle of to me, with my jewels, my apparel, and Freehold, during the first American war, other ornaments peculiar to my quality, a young English officer, closely pressed as I would have presented my blood and by two Abenakis Indians, with upraised life, could they have procured my father's batchets, no longer hoped for life, and liberty. But whatever this my proceed- only resolved to sell it dearly. At the ing was, my unfortunate father was an

moment when he expected to sink be1

utter stranger to it; and if it is a crime, neath them, an old Indian armed with a I alone am guilty.” This pathetic ap- bow approached him, and prepared to peal was lost on the sanguinary monster; aim an arrow; but having adjusted it, in and Servilia and her father were con an instant he dropt his bow, and ran to demned to die.

throw himself between the young officer

and his assailants; they immediately FILIAL PIETY. --- Valerius Maximus retired with respect, relates, that a woman of distinction ha The old man took his prisoner by the ving been condemned to be strangled, hand, enco

couraged him by caresses, and was delivered to the triumvir, who caused conducted him to his cabin.

It was her to be carried to prison, in order to winter, and the Indians were retiring be put to death. The gaoler who was home. Here he kept him for some time, ordered to execute her, was struck with treating him with undiminished softness, compunction, and could not resolve to and making him less his slave than his kill her. He chose, however, to let her die companion. At length he taught him of hunger; but meanwhile suffered her the Åbenakis language, and the rude arts

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in use among that people. They became after he shewed the young officer a flow. perfectly satisfied with each other, and ering shrub. “Seest thou that fine tree?"

E WILL the young officer was comparatively said he to him; “and hast thou pleasure

1.-For happy--except at times when his heart in looking upon it?" "Yes, I have," he

aos was wrung, to perceive the old man answered.

“ I have it no more," reintently fix his eyes on him and shed turned the Indian, with precipitation; bizt tears.

“but as for thou---Go, return to thy At the return of spring, the Indians country, that thy father may again with returned to arms, and prepared for the pleasure mark the rising sun, and behold campaign. The old man, yet sufficiently the springing flower.” strong to support the fatigues of war, set out with them, accompanied by his pri- GOOD FORTUNE WHEN LEAST The Abenakis made a march of EXPECTED.--A poor retailer of fruit

, more than two hundred leagues across who had three small children, could the desert, till at length they arrived scarcely, in dear times, earn so much as within sight of an English camp; the old

Cm, he

was necessary to procure herself and chilIndian pointed it out to the young officer, dren bread; but for the hire of the damp at the same time contemplating him bole, which her landlord called a room, wistfully. “Behold thy brothers!” said it was impossible. The hard-hearted he to him; “behold where they wait to man distrained for his rent, really took give us battle! Hear me; I have saved her bed, and her little wretched furnithy life, I have taught thee to make a ture, and ordered them to be sold by canoe, bows, and arrows; to obtain the

auction. The poor wretched widow and means to make them from the forest; to her orphans were present at the sale. manage the hatchet, and to take off the

Even the best things were thrown away scalp of an enemy. What wert thou, for a trifle, and there was not enough when I took thee to my cabin? Thy produced for the rent. In the catalogue hands were those of a child; they neither ihere was a very small and much smoaked served to nourish nor defend thee; thy picture of Saint Jerom, an inheritance soul was in night; thou knew nothing; from her grandmother, which hung over thou owest me all! Wilt thou, then, be her bed, and to which she and her chilungrateful enough to join thy brothers, dren offered up their pious prayers. As and raise the hatchet against us?they were accustomed to do, they meThe young Englishman vowed he would chanically raised up their little hands

, rather lose a thousand lives, than spill when Saint Jerom was put up, and the the blood of one Abenakis. The Indian tears of the mother flowed abundantly. looked on his prisoner with earnestness, A painter who was present examined the and in a mingled tone of tenderness and picture for a considerable time, and at sorrow, enquired, “Hast thou a father?” last bid a dollar. Another connoiseur “He was alive," answered the young doubled the bidding. The painter to man, "when I left my country.” “Oh, alarm his rival at once immediately rose how miserable he must be!" cried the to a louis d'or, but the connoiseur said, Indian; and after a moment of silence, without pondering, “twenty-five guildhe added, “Knowest thou that I have ers". Fifty," answered the painter

. been a father? I am so no more! I saw

"A hundred,” replied the connoiseur. my child fall in the battle; he was at my The astonishment and joy of the poor woside. I saw him die like a warrior; he man may be well conceived, who not was covered with wounds, my child,

only saw all her debts paid by the little when he fell! But I have avenged him! Jerom, but a considerable overplus reYes, I have avenged him.” The Indian

maining. She could scarcely believe her ar pronouncing these words was much

ears, when she heard, that the two CODagitated; then turning to the East, where

noiseurs still keptout-bidding each other; the sun was just rising, he said to the and the painter first was silent at an offer young Englishman,

" Seest thou that of six hundred guilders. “ You are forbeauteous sun, resplendent of bright tunate," said he, after the painting was ness? Hast thou pleasure in seeing it?" knocked down to his rival--- You are 6 Yes," answered he, “I have pleasure fortunate, Sir, in being richer than I am; in seeing that beautiful sky."

otherwise you would not have had it well! I have it no more," said the Indian, under a thousand.shedding a torreet of tears. A moment It was an original of Raphael.

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