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VOL. 4.]

Smiled at the hovering dart of death,


While Hope displayed the joys of Heaven! See Roberts's Poems and Letters, p. 9, a pleasing companion to the Remains of Kirke White. The author died at the early age of twenty!


The slaughter of the Jewish children, by Herod, is commemorated this day. The festival is very antient, for Tertullian and Saint Cyprian call these Innocents martyrs, and Prudentius has written a hymn upon the subject. Childermas day is another name for this feast. This day is observed by the Jews on account of Jehoiakim's burning the scroll that the Prophet Baruch wrote from the mouth of Jeremiah.

From the New Monthly Magazine, Sept. 1818. ORIGINAL LETTER AND POEM, BY ROBERT BURNS.

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She heard the tidings of the fatal blow,
And sunk abandoned to the wildest woe.
Wrongs, injuries, from many a darksome den,
Now gay in hope explore the path of men.
See, from his cavern, grim Oppression rise,
And throw on Poverty his cruel eyes;
Keen on the helpless victim see him fly,

And stifle, dark, the feebly-bursting cry
Mark ruffian Violence, distained with crimes,
Rousing elate in these degenerate times:

View unsuspecting Innocence a prey:
As guileful Fraud points out the erring way;


while subtle Litigation's pliant tongue
The life-blood equal sucks of Right and Wrong:
Hark, injured Want recounts the unlisten'd tale,
Ye dark waste hills, and brown unsightly plains,
And much-wronged Misery pours the unpitied wail !
Inspire and soothe my melancholy strains!
Ye tempests rage! ye turbid torrents roll!
Ye suit the joyless tenor of my soul:
Life's social haunts and pleasures I resign;
Be nameless wilds and lonely wanderings mine.
To mourn the woes my Country must endure,-
That wound degenerate ages cannot cure.


(No date, but supposed Nov. or Dec. 1787.) SIR, The enclosed poem was writNapoleon, when at Dresden, comten in consequence of your suggestion, plained to Maria-Louisa of the conduct last time I had the pleasure of seeing of her mother-in-law and the Archdukes, you. It cost me an hour or two of next and having manifested considerable dismorning's sleep, but did not please me; satisfaction, he added: As to the Emso it lay by, an ill-digested effort, till the peror, I say nothing of him, he is a ganother day that I gave it a critic brush. ache' (a stupid fellow). Maria-Louisa These kind of subjects are much hack- did not understand this expression, and neyed; and besides, the wailings of the as soon as Napoleon withdrew, she askrhyming tribe over the ashes of the great ed her attendants what it meant. As are cursedly suspicious, and out of all none of the ladies could venture to excharacter for sincerity. These ideas plain its real signification, they told her damped my muse's fire; however I that the word was used to designate a have done the best I could, and, at all serious reflecting man. The Empress events, it gives me an opportunity of forgot neither the term nor the definideclaring that I have the honour to be, tion, and she some time afterwards apSir, Your obliged humble servant, plied it in a very amusing way. ROBERT BURNS. ing the time she was intrusted with the regency of the French empire, an im portant question one day came under discussion at the council of state. Having remarked that Cambaceres did not utter a word, she turned towards him and said, I should like to have your opinion on this business, sir, for I know you are a ganache.' At this compliment, Cambaceres stared with astonishment and consternation, while he repeated in a low tone of voice the word ganache. 'Yes,' replied the empress, a ganache, a serious thinking sort of a man; is not that the meaning of it?'-No one made any reply, and the discussion proceeded.

Monday Morning.

To Charles Hay, Esq. Advocate.

On the Death of the late Lord President.
Lone on the bleaky hills the straying flocks
Shun the fierce storms among the sheltering rocks;
Down foam the rivulets, red with dashing rains;
The gathering floods burst o'er the distant plains;
Beneath the blasts the leafless forests groan ;
The hollow caves return a sullen moan.
Ye hills, ye plains, ye forests, and ye caves,
Ye howling winds and wintry-swelling waves;
Unheard, unseen, by human ear or eye,
Sad to your sympathetic glooms I fly.
Where to the whistling blast, and waters' roar,
Pale Scotia's recent wound may I deplore.
O heavy loss my country ill could bear!
A loss these evil days can ne'er repair!
Justice, the high vicegerent of her God,
Her doubtful balance ey'd, and sway'd her rod;

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Varieties-Original Anecdotes.


{VOL. 4 Great events spring from little causes, tor. The Count consented; the Serand of this the following is an instance: vant mounted behind the carriage, and We are told that before the battle let his horse go, which was soon seized of Leipsic, negociations for peace were by the wolves, and torn into a thousand carried on at Dresden, the preliminaries pieces. Meantime the travellers proceedwere even agreed upon, and this extra ed with all the speed they could, in ordinary man had actually the pen in hopes to reach the town, from which his hand to sign them when a few im- they were not very distant. But the prudent words from the Duke de Bassa- horses were tired, and the wolves, beno suddenly changed his determination. come more savage now they had tasted Sire,' said the duke, as he presented blood, had almost overtaken the carriage. to the Emperor the pen which was to In this extreme necessity, the Servant ensure the tranquillity of Europe, ' for cried out, There is only one means once it may be said that you do not of deliverance: I will go to meet the give peace, but that you receive it.' wolves, if you will swear to me to proWhether the duke had any secret mo- vide as a father for my wife and chiltives for wishing for the continuance of dren. I must perish; but while they the war, or whether he suffered these fall upon me, you will escape." Podotwords to escape him without reflecting sky hesitated to comply; but as there on their fatal consequences, it is impos- was no prospect of escape, he consented, sible to decide; be this as it may, the and solemnly vowed, that if he would Emperor at that moment fancied he sacrifice himself for their safety, be saw all the glory of his life eclipsed, and would constantly provide for his family. he threw down the pen in a fit of anger, The Servant immediately got down, declaring that he would sign nothing. went to meet the wolves, and was deThe battle of Leipsic took place a few voured! The Count reached the gates days after, and it was followed by the of Zator, and was saved.-The Serdefection of his allies. Napoleon was vant was a Protestant; his Master a obliged to quit Germany with the same Catholic, and conscientiously kept his precipitation as he had fled from Rus- word. sia; and he was only enabled to reach Mentz, through the devotion of his guards, who suffered themselves to be eut to pieces for the sake of covering his


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Clerical Wit.-Sir William Dawes, Archbishop of York, was very fond of a pun. His clergy dining with him, for the first time after he had lost his lady, he told them, he feared they did not find things in so good order as they Remarkable instance of fidelity in a used to be in the time of poor Mary, Servant. In the winter of the year and, looking extremely sorrowful, ad1776, the Count and Countess Podot- ded, with a deep sigh," She was, insky being on their way from Vienna to deed, Mare pacificum!" A Curate, Cracow, the wolves, which are very nu- who pretty well knew what she had merous in the Carpathian mountains, been, called out, Ay, my Lord, but and when the cold is very severe are she was Mare mortuum first." The more bold and savage than usual, came Archbishop gave him a living of 2001. down in hordes, and pursued the car- per annum within two months. riage between the towns of Oswiesk and A modern wit passing with a friend Zator, the latter of which is only a few through one of the principal streets of leagues from Cracow. Of two servants, the metropolis, and observing the name one was sent before, to bespeak post- of Farthing over a shop door, said to horses; the other, whom the Count par- his companion, "That man and his ticularly esteemed for his fidelity, see- wife ought to be hanged for coining." ing the wolves come nearer and nearer, Why so?' "Because a farthing and begged his master to permit him to a farthing make a halfpenny!" leave them his horse, by which their your mind at ease,' replied bis friend, rage would in some measure be satisfied, the crime carries its own punishmentand they should gain time to reach Za- they are liable to be transported!'

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VOL. 4]

Original Poetry.





From the London Monthly Magazines.


IT is not Love, when burning sighs
Heave forth the heart's impassion'd
anguish ;

When the cheeks kindle, and the eyes
On their bright idol, fix and languish.

It is not Love, when heart and mind

Are troubled like the stormy ocean; When the press'd hands, convulsive join'd Thrill ev'ry pulse with wild emotion. It is not Love, when madd'ning bliss Suspends the faculties of reason; 'Tis baleful passion urges this,

And acts tow'rds Love the foulest treason.

Love breathes in peace, and hope and joy; Love only sighs when absence parteth : Its trust, no fancied ills destroy;

No jealous fear its bosom smarteth.

From the stol'n glance, half-veil'd and meek, Love's fondest, truest feeling breaketh;

It speaks in blushes on the cheek,

Soft as when summer morning waketh.

In heart 'tis as the Christian's faith,

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HE sun of the morning,
Unclouded and bright,
The landscape adorning
With lustre and light,
To glory and gladness

New bliss may impart :
But, oh! give to sadness
And softness of heart

A moment to ponder, a season to grieve,


Changeless and sacred---chaste---desiring; The light of the moon, or the shadows of eve

Decay it knows not ;---and in death, Dies, but as life's last sighs expiring. 3, Durham-Place, Chelsea.


W. P.

New Mon. Mag. Sept. 1818.


From the same.

ID the cold and callous-hearted Brood o'er bliss he ne'er imparted; Let him linger, let him languish 1n his sordid, selfish anguish : Not a sun his soul shall borrow, To dispel his night of sorrow; And a something shall annoy, With a dread, his dreams of joy. He knows not the blissful union Souls partake by soft communion; He knows not the pleasing sadness Less allied to grief than gladness Which the pensive heart is proving,. When its life consists in loving; As congenial pulses beat With a mild and mutual heat.

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In the commotion roll without a breeze, And as their sides the huge upswellings lave, His flagging sails the listless seaman sees, And wishes rather for the winds to rave, And, like an arrow, dart him o'er the wave. Plymouth Dock. N. T. C. The Ground Swell is principally occasioned by storms in the Atlantic, which agitated the sea many days after the tempests have ceased. The ocean heaves, as it were, in masses, but its surface is quite smooth, i.e. unbroken into waves, and without foam, except where it comes in contact with the


[VOL. 4

From the Literary Gazette, Sept. 1818.




heard the muffled drum beat slow,

I heard the soft flute's tones of woe
I saw the coffin in the ground,
And the loud volley fired around---
And many a manly veteran there,
With faltering step and brow of care,
Dashed from his eye the tear that fell
In token of a last farewell.

A rustic stone upon the grave
Its feeble information gave:

The name, the youthful years, it told,

Of him who there lay silent---cold---
How he had died the hero's death,
"Tis o'er---and now unheard by thee
In Victory's arms resign'd life's breath.
The warring of a world shall be!
Yes--in the stranger's land he sleeps,
No mother o'er the green turf weeps;
Nor must she ever---ever know

The spot where he she loved lies low.
Yet be this grave to memory dear,
An English Soldier slumbers here!
The Spaniard---as he wanders by,
Sball view the mound with pensive eye,
With grateful throb his bosom swell,
For those who nobly fought and fell.
Youth! from thy blessed land they came,
With warrior might and patriot flame,
And buried in the earth of Spain

The Bravest of the brave' remain.

From the same.



Written after the French Invasion of the Tyrol. Felicite passee

Qui ne peux revenir,
Tourment de ma pensee

Que n'ai je en te perdant, perdu le souvenir

OU would not wonder, (had you seen

Yin happier days our fields of green,

Our mountains, skies, and lucid streams,
Like colourings of the poets' dreams---)
You would not wonder I should grieve
Those scenes of loveliness to leave.

Oh, never shall I see on earth
A land like this that gave me birth,
Or hearts so kind, so brave, so true,
As those my blissful youth once knew:
Yet virtue, valour, could not save---
And those hearts slumber in the grave.
With tempest-roar, with lightning-flame,
The Tyrant and his myriads came---
They laid our peaceful valleys waste,
Her Sons with chains would have disgraced.
How fought the Tyrolese---how fell---

Stranger! the tale is known too well.
But never, never can you know
The deep, the agonizing woe
We felt, when man could do no more-
When freedom died, and all was o'er!
God of our fathers! in that hour
Warred not with us thy mighty power.

VOL. 4.]

Intelligence; Literary, &c.

No!--you could ne'er retrace this scene
For what it had so lately been---
The ruined cot, the untilled ground,
All---all---so desolate around!
No minstrel wanders through the vale,
No voice floats on the evening gale.
It was so different !---at this hour,
Resting within some shadowy bower,
We listened---with what anxious ear!
The homeward mountain-horn to hear,
And watched the crimson setting sun.
For then our evening dance begun.
The spot our feet once careless prest,
Oh slumber there in endless rest
The maidens' hope, the matrons' pride---
The Youth who for his Country died!
Since then is all a desert grown,
And I remain alone, alone.
Companions, friends, for ever dear!
No longer ye inhabit here---
Yet wonder not that I should grieve
Those scenes of loveliness to leave,
For never shall I see on earth
A land like this that gave me birth.

From the same.


The pleasures of Love in a moment fly;
The torments of Love endure till we die.


From the European Magazine.

N artist famous in his line,
Once undertook to paint a sign,
To please the landlord of an inn,
Who cared for merit not a pin!
A bear was fix'd on,---not indeed
A very flattering quadruped,
For that was thought of no concern,
Because the landlord's saving turn
Was found to mix with all his views,
From sheer sign-painting to the muse.
The fact was this,---his highest aim
Was for the Shortest cut to fame.
"Paint it without a chain," said he,
""Twill do as well as with; for me,
All I regard about the sign,

Is, that you'll paint it cheap, and fine!``
To work the painter went with care,
And sketch'd almost a living bear,
ISABEL. In colour, shape, and look complete,
In all its parts, from head to feet.
But mark the issue,---Soon next day
It rain'd---the bear was wash'd away!
"Zounds!" cried the landlord, in a rage,
"Did not Sir Brush with me engage
To grace my sign-post with a bear,
Which now is gone, the Lord knows where !"
A wag, who heard this pithy strain,
Replied, "It should have had a chain,
And then I'll warrant you, mine host,
The bear would still have kept his post,
not, as now, have

This is the silliest stuff that ever I heard.
Midsummer Night's Dream.
HE pleasures of Love in a moment fly,

For Sylvia with all once so dear did I part---
She left me, and gave to another her heart.
The pleasures of Love but a moment endure;

The torments of Love admit of no cure.

So sure as this stream shall softly flow
To meet the clear river which glides below;
So sure shall I love thee---said Sylvia to me:
The stream still flows---but changed is she.


"Fellow !" cries Spiggot, anger'd still,
Because 'twas merely rainy weather!"---
What is it that your chain implies,
"Since you pretend to so much skill,
Which should secure the painted prize ?"-
"I'll tell you," says the joker---" Pray,
Your Painter may return this way;
Bid him to oil the Bear,---and thes,---
Bruin will not escape again!"

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J. C.

Journey from India to England,thro' Per- with the matter of a work of this description; sia, in the year 1817; by Lieut. Colonel ceive the facts and observations of a travelJOHN JOHNSON, will be perused with much ler in his own plain language, than to meet gratification, as it presents the reader with with them, as we do, on many occasions, novelties at almost every page. An over- distorted and wire-spun by editors of the land journey to or from India has hitherto press. This work is enriched with engravbeen deemed a most formidable undertakings, from drawings by the author, of intering; but Colonel įJohnson has dispelled so esting views, and portraits of remarkable many apprehensions that were groundless, personages in various costumes. An itineand has pointed out such practicable means for overcoming really existing difficulties, that we conceive many travellers will, in future, follow his example, and prefer the journey by land to a long sea voyage, during times of peace. The author, in his preface, claims the indulgence of the public for any want of refinement or elegance of language arising from inexperience in composition. We notice little occasion for this plea; but, had it been as great as the colonel's modesty presumes, we should not have considered the style of any importance, in comparison

rary of the route, with the distances, corrected from actual measurement, and an abstract of the travelling expenses from Bombay to Londou, form two curious appendices to this valuable and entertaining work.

The disasters of the late voyage of the English embassy to China, together with the disgraceful issue of that costly project, are still fresh in our remembrance. We have already noticed in former numbers of our Magazine, the works of Captain Hall, Mr. Ellis, and Mr. Mc Leod,---all of them rela

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