balustrade which was erected in the middle of the hall, he would have been in danger of being crushed by the crowds who pressed in to behold him.

Never had Saint Pierre exhibited such a scene; never was disorder more complete and at the same time more gay. All action of the government was suspended, but its absence was as yet perceptible only by the cessation of the tyranny it had exercised. Songs, epigrams in ridicule of the chief officers were showered upon them, and these gentlemen thought it the wisest way to bear the joke patiently. Provisions appeared again in abundance; and lastly the news of peace arrived to crown the general intoxication.

However vessels had been a long time before this despatched to France. The prince had written to his family,* and had given his letters in charge to a merchant-captain in the employ of Liewain. No answers arrived, and the prince seemed to be very uneasy on this account. The governer, on the other hand, had sent off the engineer Des Rivieres to 'the minister, to give him an account of what had happened and to ask for instructions. Des Rivieres had been gone six months and did not return; but he might make his appearance from day to day, and the prince showed no uneasiness about the matter. In the meantime he amused himself with braving the governer, who had tried in vain to be restored to his favour, and with playing boyish tricks on M. de Ranche, whom he caused to ride full gallop over the fields in a heavy rain, with his laced coat, his wig and his white silk stockings.t He made love to all the women, committed every

* Liewain, who acted as his secretary, declared to the writer of this account, that while writing with his own hand to the dutchess of Penthiévre, his eyes were red and filled with tears.

The prince was ill when the festival of the Corpus Christi took place. It was customary for the shipping in the harbour and the forts to salute the procession with their great guns. The governor, from respect for the sick prince, forbade the salute's being fired He sent every morning to inquire about his highness' health. One day at the Dominican church, where the latter had come to hear mass, the governor sent him word that he had come to the sacristy in order to ascertain with his own eyes the state of his health.

"Does he

excess in eating and drinking, abandoned himself to every whim that came into his head. One day he put on the blue ribbon, which would have been the most ridiculous thing in the world, even if he had been the hereditary prince of Modena. He supported this silly proceeding by a story still more silly, which was not the less credited on that account.

(To be continued in our next.)

take me for a relick." Said the prince. The messenger took back no other

answer.

On the octave of Corpus Christi, the prince, having perfectly recovered, expressed an inclination to see the procession. The marquis of Caylus, on being informed of this determined to join in it, hoping to be taken notice of; accordingly he was so by every body, except his highness, who did not go to the procession. He was told that the marquis went there only on his account. "I rejoice, said he, that I have been the means of inducing the Jew to perform an act of religion."

One day the intendant, who was in the habit of putting himself quite at his case wherever he was, was cleaning his teeth at table; the prince sent him word in a loud whisper by a servant, that it was impolite to do so. On another occasion he covered his coat, with the froth of a bottle of champaigne. These were certainly princely diversions.

ORIGINAL POETRY FOR THE PORT FOLIO.

To the Editor of The Port Folio.

SIR,

Your interesting miscellany deserves universal encouragement. Its effects are so important, in rousing slumbering genius, and exciting literary emulation, that its success is identified with the progress of refinement.

Every literary lounger, as well as the professed votary of science, ought to encourage it by his pen and patronage. I belong to the former class: and indeed to that my pretensions are not "supereminent." My effusions have hitherto been confined to my own closet and fire, and have not soared even so high as the columns of an ephemeral newspaper. Induced however by the liberality of your character as a critic; I send you the following monody occasione 1, by the death of the right hon. Charles James Fox, confident if it be condemned it will be done with the candour of the scholar, and the politeness of the gentleman.

A MONODY ON THE RIGHT HON. CHARLES JAMES FOX.

WRITTEN JANUARY 1809.

Mourn Albion! mourn thy reign of greatness o'er!

Thy bold undaunted chieftain is no more!

Mute is the tongue, whence stern remonstrance rung;
As on its accents, raptured senates hung.—
Dim is the crest, where godlike glory gleamed;
From which with radiant light, bright honour beamed;
And fled, the wondrous mind whose searching sight,
Pierced with its ample ken through moral night,
On venturous pinions, proudly dared to soar,
Trace Nature's maze, and all her fields explore.

Come sacred Virtue, from thy glittering sphere;
And mourn, with sad regret o'er Fox's bier!
Thy form seraphic cheer'd his ardent mind;

Thy holy impulse every thought refined.

What though in opening dawn, dark Error's sway,
At times, obscured the lustre of his way;

And passion wild, and party's mad carcer

Forced him, through vexing storms his course to steer:

Yet, from the cloud, thy sun of glory shone,
And stamped his soul with greatness, all thy own,
Taught him the laurelled paths of fame to tread;
By thee attracted, and by honour led.

At thy command, bright Truth her banner raised;
And kindling Fancy in his bosom blazed:

Each reasoning power, bestowed its genial force;
And patriot ardour bore him on his course:
Till unresisted, o'er the vulgar throng,
He swept impetuous his march along.

And thou blest Freedom! on thy starry throne;
Lament his loss;-thy wisest, brightest son.
To thee devoted was his earliest hour,
For thee he battled, with maturer power.
When fearful tempests shook each feeble mind;
And thy fair hopes for trappings were resigned:-
When dastard souls, appalled by pale Affright,
Forsook thy field; and shunned thy beaming light:-
Even then he stood, in conscious virtue brave,
And dared defend the cause, he could not save.
Amid the horrors of ill omened power,
When leagued oppression ruled the fated hour;
His godlike mind, with ancient truths elate,
Remained the pillar of the tarnished state:
And nobly dared, inspired with steadfast zeal,
To face all dangers for his country's weal.

His was the soul, to highborn purpose true,
Which caught each wide relation in its view.
With wisdom gifted, and with prescience sage,
He scanned with clear design, the future page:
From mystic causes, each effect could trace;
And gather light from Error's darkling maze.

Nor less in scenes, where social vritues warm,
His soul expanded to the generous charm.
With sprightly wit; which pained no feeling heart;
Which beamed resplendent, but conveyed no dart;

With playful Fancy, in its happiest mood;
And every frolic attribute endued;

With treasured learning, of its dross refined;
He ruled resistless o'er the world of mind;
And led, in captive crouds, each nobler band,
That vowed allegiance to his magic wand.-

What sun, oh Albion! mid thy gilded trains,
Like his full orb, shall shine around thy plains?
Who, in thy councils, dares alone to stand,
And wield thy trident, with unerring hand?
Who now is left, with energy sublime,
To guide thee safely down the gulfs of time?
Who, of the venal throng, can fire thy race,
Till kindling valour light the warrior's blaze?
Or nerve thy freeborn sons, with ancient pride,
To stem, with triumph, Gallia's crimson tide?

Alas! no conscious breast to glory soars,

Endowed, by Heaven, with more than mortal powers,*
Throughout thy hapless realm, no gallant name
Flings its broad radiance o'er thy fading fame.
Thy fawning courtier tribes around thee stand,
To pillage, not to save a sinking land.
With dark intrigue, they jostle on their way;
And join in nothing, but to seize the prey.
Corruption's fiends, victorious, stalk around,
While venal strains their blasted honours sound.

Not one among thy sons, by Freedom fired;
By Fox and PITT's illustrious deeds inspired;
Dare wake to high pursuits the swelling soul;
Each lofty purpose, for thy weal, control;

And with stern pride, while kingdoms round are hurled;
Preserve thee steadfast, mid a crashing world.

* "With more than mortal powers endowed."

Scott's Marmion.