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the allies of our enemy; if, in the courfe of the quarrel, we have been able, not only to defend our own poffellions, but to make great acquifitions of territory; and if, in this fituation, we have gained advantages for ourfelves when all the furrounding na tions have been compelled to make facrifices; then is the treaty by which the bleffings of peace have been reftored to us not merely fafe, but highly beneficial and honourable." (pp. 2, 4.)

Upon examination of the articles of this treasy, Mr. B. inclines to vindicate every one of them, and even the conduct of Bonaparte, in " feizing, with a daring indeed, but not with a facrilegious hand, the reins of the government, and faving France from a state of deep diftrefs-from her foes-and from herself." (p. 35.) "In lofing the alliance of Holland we have only loft a power fo much reduced, in the courfe of the last century, that the affiftance from it was, perhaps, more than counterbalanced by the neceflity of defending it. The riches, power, and population of Great Britain has, during the fame period, fo much increated, that the alone is of far greater weight, in the political fcale, than the maritime powers were, formerly, in conjunction; and the naval preponderancy of thefe iflands has kept pace with the military preponderancy of France. If we detach ourselves, as far as circumstances will permit, from the quarrels of the Continent, and content ourfelves with fighting our own battles, upon our own element, though peace will, at all times, be highly defireable, fhould occafion arife to render war really juft and neceflary, there will be no reason to regard it as peculiarly dangerous or terrible." (pp. 38, 39.)

207. A circumftantial Narrative of the Strand. ing of a Mugate Corn-boy near the Village of Reculver, on the 7th of February, 1882; written with a Delign to improve a Catafirophe, as awful as it is unparalleled in the 44 maritime Anals of that Neighbow boot.

THIS little narrative, reprinted from the newspapers and from our prefent volume, p. 175, with fome improvenients and additions, has gone through two editions.

208. The Margate Hay, which was firanded on Sunday Morning, Feb. 7, 1802, a Poem. To which is and fed, a Sketch of the Life and Experience of Mr. George Bone, of Margate, one of the Paffengers who were drowned. By Zechariah Cozens.

THE preceding article is here dilated in verfe; of which we can with more truth commend the good intention than the execution; it having been the Author's endeavour to reconcile the minds of the relatives of the unfortu nate fufferers to this painful confolation, reminding them, that it was by the permition of Him who is "To good to injure, and too wife to err." of the experience of Mr. Bone we fhall take another opportunity of speaking.

20%. Nafcita, Carattere, e alcuni Fatti notabili de Luigi XVI. Re di Francia, a Pri gionia nel Tempio, tradotta del Giornale dl Sig. Clery, Cameriere del Re, con una breve Appendice al Giornale.

; to

THE principal part is a tranflation. of the affecting journal of Clery, reviewed in our vol. LXVIII. p. 1060; 1 which are here prefixed the birth, character, and ftriking events in the king's life, and a good portrait of him; and at the end is a fhort Appendix, giving an exact account of the attendance of

Mr. Edgeworth on him to the fcaffold. After fupper, the king retired with his confeflor, and enquired after the flate of the clergy; and when he found how many of them had retired to England, where they were not only received but furnished with every neceffary, he exclaimed, "Generous Nation!" Let thefe two words fink deep into the hearts of both the protectors and the protocted; and if the prefent genera-, tion in France have any feeling, let them or their governors take fhame to themselves for having circulated a fpu rious edition of Clery's narrative, into which were introduced many falfehoods difgraceful to the memory of Louis, and pretending, in the title, to be printed by Bayks, London, but was publicly reprobated by Clery himfel£ The Italian tranflation is printed at Oxford for Dulau.

200. The Trial of Republicanism; or, A Se..

rics of political Papers, proving the injurious and debafing Confequences of Republican Government and written Conflitutions. With an introductory Addrefs to the Hon. Thomas Tifkine, Fla.

EXPOSES the fallacy, folly, and danger, of theoretical fpeculations in government.

**We cannot poffibly return the Stanzas of W. R. All fucit poetical articles as are deemed unfit for infertion, and many profe communications of a fimilar defcription it is our regular custom to destroy, to prevent unneceffury accumulation.

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Saw no deceit impofe, no treach'ry fmile, No frauds perplex, nor any arts beguile. How chang'd the heart that vifits you again,

[pain! Once light as air, and free from thoughts of Now throbbing oft with much of human ill, Yet much enjoying, oft exulting still! She with whom hand in hand I fportive ftray'd, [lovely maid, Whilft Nymphs and Fauns admir'd y Still hand in hard fhall rove thefe meads along,

Still fmile, Al liften to her favorite fong; Whilft as we talk of thofe whom moft we love, [ prove;

The profpect brightens, and the scenes imNor brightens leis, that Amalthea's horn From SMITH's kind hand the laughing

plains adorn;

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your applanfe;

But fuch applauding friends new life impart; Your gen'rous fmiles are funthine to the heart.

How vain each moral leffon of the stage, If what should mend fatigues a liftless age! With pity moves not, nor with fear alarms, Nor bids fair Virtue fhine in Beauty's charms, Or Truth, by powerful eloquence imprefs'd, Strike with refiftlefs force the feeling breaft!

Yet who (alas!) can charm by mimic

Woes

Till, nurs'd by hope, fond emulation glows? Till, rang'd around, a favouring group appcars, [tears;

Prompt, as he bids, to rage, or melt in While active fympathy, at his controul, Flies, like electric fire, from foul to foul?

Such fympathy they find, who feek the

prize,

Dramatic fame, before a nation's eyes;

*Ben Jonfon's name for the feedveffel of the Dandelion.

Whom all the great, the gay, the fair, attend,

[friend. Their hopes to cherifb, and their toils beWe (far more arduous task!) aspire to pleafe

'Midft fcenes of rural gaiety and eafe;
Where, fick of public sports, th' inconftant
mind

Spurns joys resembling those it left behind,
And, ftill to varied diffipation us❜d,
Faftidious pride disdains-to be amus❜d.

But let not Tafte's more humble vot'ries
fear :
bere;
True Genius long has fixed it's empire
Allied to Genius, Candour fpreads her
wings,
[fprings.
Conftant as Health, at thefe perennial

Take then the thanks which Gratitude

infpires! [fires. Long, long as life, shall live her wakeful Cheer'd by your smile, we feek, in grief

or mirth,

No other patrons o'er the peopled earth;
Our fondest hope-to please a chofen few;
Our proudest boast-to be approv'd by

you.

LINES

To the Memory of CAPT. DUVAL, who was laft in bis Majesty's Ship The Fly.

N

O longer dare we hope! the anxions
months
[ray
Have heavily roll'd on, nor brought one
Of comfort on the wing of Time. Severe,
And frequent were the gales that blew,
As ever rag'd upon a Northern thore:
Loud Equinoctial gales made ev'ry heart
That felt a Sailor's danger tremble;
While anxious Friendship, with reluctant
dread,

Attentive liften'd to each vain formife;
Nor funk defpondent, till the varied tale
Had ceas'd around; and e'en prolonged
Hope

By doubtful rumour could delude no more.
Hufh then, my fwelling foul;,
The folemn fubject fuits not with com-
plaint.

The forrows of the heart at fuch a lofs
From felfish motives rife 'tis Nature
weeps!

While Refignation, with prophetic eye,
Fixes her gaze upon the awful fcene,
And contemplates the mild celestial rays
Of mercy that fucceed the ftorm. She be-
holds
[weight
The object of her grief, free from the
Of life's fevereft cares; on feraph's wing
Triumphant borne, to claim his bright re-
ward

For virtues nurtur'd by the hand of Heaven.
Him bid the world admire his merit grew
Unaided by the hand of wealth or power:
And as he rofe to Fame, his buoyant (pirit
Thro' Tribulation's school vi&orious pafs'd.
Cumberland's

Alluding to Mr.
having long refided at Tunbridge Wells.

Then, as the eagle from its aëry nest
Towers tow'rd the Sun, his try'd and ar-

dent mind

Seem'd foaring in the bright effulgent ray
Of England's Glory. But, alas! too foon
The radiant vision clos'd to us it clos'd;
To him it opened in eternal day.

Then check the tear: weep not, thon
much rever'd

[titude And honour'd Friend, for whom his gra Express'd a filial affe&tion; by whole care His infant lip was taught the Sacred Song: Weep thou no more! but with religious faith [joys

Dwell on the profpect of thofe promis'd The fervant good and faithful may expect.

THE GHOST.

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E! who delight in old traditions,
And love to talk of Apparitions,
Whose chairs around are closely join'd,
While no one dares to look behind,
Thinking there's fome Hobgoblin near,
Ready to whisper in his ear;
Oh! litten, while I lay before ye
My well-authenticated story.

Two twins, of understanding good,
Together liv'd as brothers fhou'd.
This was named Thomas, that was Johns
But all things elfe they had as one.
At length, by industry in trade,
They had a pretty fortune made,
And had, like others of the city,
A country cottage very pretty;
Where they amus'd their leiture hours
In innocence with plants and flowers,
Till Fate had cut Tom's thread acrofs,
And left poor John to wail his lofs.

John left alone, when now fome weeks
Had wip'd the tears from off his cheeks,
To mufe within himself began

On what thould be his future plan:
"Ye woods*, ye fields, my fweet domain,
"When thall I fee your face again ?
"When fhall I pafs the vacant hours,
"Rejoicing in my woodbine bow'rs;
"To (moke my pipe, and fing my fong,
"Regardless how they pass along?
"When take my fill of paftime there
"In fweet forgetfulness of care?"
He faid; and, on his purpofe bent,
Soon to his country cottage went,
Swill'd home-brew'd ale and goofb'rry' fool;
John never ate or crank by rule,

His arms were folded now to reft,
The night-mare fat upon his breast;
From right to left, and left to right,
He turn'd and tois'd throughout the night;
A thousand fears difturb'd his head,
And phantoms danc'd around his bed;

O Rus! quando ego te alpiciam, &c.
et incrtibus horis

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Ducere folicite jucunda oblivia vitæ.

His

His lab'ring ftomach, tho' he slept,
The fancy wide awake had kept;
His brother's ghost approach'd his fide,
And thus in feeble accents cried :

"Be not alarm'd, my brother dear,
"To fee your buried partner here;
"I come to tell you where to find

A treasure which I left behind:
"I had not time to let you know it,
"But follow me, and now I'll fhew it."
John trembled at the awful fight,
But hopes of gain fupprefs'd his fright:
Oft will the parching thirst of Gold *
Make even errant cowards bold.

John, rifing up without delay,
Went where the spectre led the way;
Which after many turnings paft
Stopp'd in an open field at last,
Where late the hind had sow'd his grain,
And made the whole a level plain.
The fpectre pointed to the spot
Where he had hid the golden pot:
"Deep in the earth," fays he, "tis laid."
But John, alas! had got no spade;
And, as the night was pretty dark,
He felt around him for a mark,
That he might know again the place
Soon as Aurora fhew'd her face.
In vain he ftoop'd and felt around,
No ftick or ftone was to be found;
But Nature now, before opprefs'd,
By change of posture fore distress'd,
Gave an alarming crack; a hint
Of what as fure as ftick or flint
To-morrow morn the place would tell,
If he had either fight or smell.
This done, he rose to go to bed;
He wak'd, how chang'd†! the nightmare

Aled;

The Ghoft was vanish'd from his fight,
And John himself in piteous plight.

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Wander'd with folded arms and down

caft eyes;

[fighs,

And while the Bard of Love and Laura
Lo Love and Laura ev'ry vale replies:
Thefe are the scenes that wake poetic fire,
These elevate the foul, thefe lofty thoughts
infpire;

Thus from this land with inspiration fraught
Thy ardent foul divinest raptures caught;
The (welling cataract, the boundless wafte,
The thund'ring horrors of the midnight
blast;

And precipices vast and pathless woods,
And rocks impending o’er deep-murmʼring
floods,

The pine-clad mountain and the dizzy Яeep,
And chief the rugged grandeur of the deep;
These themes delight the feeling breaft

alone,

And give a joy to vulgar fouls unknown.
On these the Mufe enraptur'd loves to dwell,
And paint those beauties it can feel fo well.
Though Nature chiefly ftrikes thy ravish'd

eye,

Array'd in all her sollen majesty;

Yet oft thy pen pourtrays the gurgling rill,
And the green honours of the verdant hill.
In ev'ry form luxuriant nature charms,
Delights by beauty, and by grandeur warms.
Reafon's impartial comprehensive mind,
Not to one beauty, to one scene confin'd,
Ranging at large through Nature's ample
field,
[has fweets to yield.
Culls from each flow'r fome (weets, for each
Nor does thy Mufe adorn alone these
themes,

2

For Italy with other wonders teems.
Its rude magnificence ftrikes ev'ry eye;
Behold you Gothic tow'r in fragments lie;

Who can behold and not defire to caft
A retrospective glance on ages paft ?
When Gothic night the darken'd world o'er
fpread,

And ignorance her baleful influence shed;
When Superftition, fed by monkish lies,
Spread a thick mift o'er mortals flumb'ring
cyes;
When each proud Noble scorn'd t'obey the
[laws,
The fword alone the judge decides the caufe ;
Virtue indignant faw her altars cold,
And Tyranny and Vice reign uncontroll'd;
Soon from Italia's fhores the goddefs flies
And feeks more genial climes, more favr'ing
fkies.

Thofe crumbling arches, thofe decaying
Each proftrate column former times recalls;
walls,
Fancy, forgetful of the lapfe of years,
From broken pillars perfect fabricks rears;
And lo, Udolpho, unimpair'd by time,
Lifts its triumphant head in majesty sub-
Jime.

So in meridian glory bright it shone
And boldly brav'd ten thousand foes alone.
The inmost chambers rush upon my fight,
Confcious of many a deed that fhuns the
light.
There

There oft detain'd from all his foul held dear,

The mourner shed the unavailing tear.
At length the midnight murd'rer's cruel
knife

Ended at once his forrows and his life.
But e'en fuch hideous images as thefe,
Touch'd by thy magic wand, bave pow'r to
please.

Invention is a rich exhaustless mine,
Where mix'd with duft the faireft metals
shine;
[the drois,
'Tis thine with judgment nice to purge
'Tis thine to give the gold a fresher glofs.
Hence tho' thou wander'ft on romantic
land,

No fairy forms are fashion'd by thy hand; Thy fancy, still restrain'd by nature's laws, By her directions ev'ry portrait draws; And tho' at first fome unknown forms appear,

Who feem the tenants of another sphere, Yet, when brought nearer to our longing eyes,

We find at last they're mere realities.

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When with fuccefs the Poet woos his Mufe;
Omitted, all the afternoon is fpeat
In jingling rhymes, and far-fetched epithets.
To this dilemma I am now reduc❜d,
Or this dull parody to fend to prefs,
Or lofe my credit with good mafter Urban.
JULIUS CESAR, IV. 3.

LOOK here upon this minfter; and on
this,

Like a fmug counterfeit, fo modernized; See what an ornament doth crown this {creen,

Embroidery itself; the Weftern front How grand! the fretted roof emboss'd! the pillars [tion Slender, in clusters, and of rare proporThe tow'r high pinnacled,and commanding! The light fome lantern, and heaven piercing fpire!

[thew

A combination, where each grace doth
The fymmetry of true architecture:
This was the Norman ftyle-now mark

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HANDEL, with his fymphonies,
Gentle airs and melodies,

All the foul to Heaven doth raise
But his chorus fo fublime,
From that bright and blissful çlime,
Brings to earth the Angels praise.
In his mufick is such art,
Softly fweet to foothe the heart;

Or transport with extacy;
Calm is each perturbed breast,
Care and grief are laid to reft,

Fall afleep, or, hearing, die.
Hark! O hark! thofe founds fupreme
Worship pure and love infpire,
Suited to their heavenly theme;

Vying with th'immortal choir!
Give, chafte fongftrefs, give again *
With Miriam's voice, that holy ftrain.

HEN. VIII II I AND MEASURE FOR MEASURE, IV. t. MASTER SHALLOW.

WAR AND PEACE.
HATE the trumpet's brazen noife,
Its loud fhrill tones my peace destroys,
And rends my aching heart.

The rattling drum, the bugle's found,
(These alike my feelings wound ;)

Dire insentives of the flaughtering art. For Fate has oft my footsteps led Among the dying and the dead, Strew'd in the bloody field; There in promifcuous heaps to lie, To thirst, to rave, to groan, to figh!

No friend to bury, and no arm to shield! Avaunt, ye fcenes of murd'rous ftrife! Give me the joys of focial life,

Whese round my cheerful hearth I view, with heartfelt pleasure view, Thofe fympathetic friends fo true, Who fhare my forrows and enjoy my mirth.

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APOSTROPHE TO MY CHILD.
F, while thy gentle fpirit foars above
Thefe earthly regions to celestial love,
Thou canft, my child, behold the tears
that flow,

And witness here our agony below;
Oh! for a moment ftop thy bright career,
A little while forego the heav'nly sphere;

* On hearing Mifs Tennant so unaf fectedly and correctly fing the last air in the Meffiah, at Birmingham Festival, Sept. 24.

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