sorrow

Still dwell in the sepulchre's transient night, And thy spirit of purity shine on the morrow That dawns on the tomb-immortality's light!

ON PARTRIDGE SHOOTING. WHEN yellow Ceres with her golden grain, Rewards the labours of the rural swain; Our cheerful youth the sylvan sports pursue, Returning pleasures op'ning to their view. Led by the morning breeze, and cooling air, With dogs and guns they to the fields repair; But chief the sportsman sure perdition brings, Where the sly partridge sits with folding wings; Close in the grass the basking covey lies, But unconceal'd from the sharp pointer's eyesWhose leg uplifted, and sagacious nose,

With instinct strange their private haunts disclose;

Led by the breeze, and on his game intent,
With caution first he draws the rising scent;
Then after many a pause in mute suspense,
Stands, like a marble statue, void of sense.
Long time the birds that skulk among the weeds,
Perceive his figure thro' the yellow reeds,
Then quick as thought, from the thick stubble

spring,

And in close phalanx ply each sounding wing.
The nimble gunner aims his tube aright,
And in red lightning, death o'ertakes their flight:
Breathless they fall in many a giddy round,
And in convulsive tremor beat the ground.
Others the meadows range with anxious care,
And scatter'd coveys all at once ensnare.
The spreading net from foldings unconfin'd,
True to its point, flows loosely in the wind.
And while his latent game, the setter eyes,
The ardent sportsman watching for the prize-
When from the ground the chatt'ring covey

Triumphs their tombes, felicitie her fate; Of more than earth, can earth make none partaker;

But knowledge makes the King most like his

maker.

HUNT'S PANACEA,

COLLECT a mob to make a showThe bellows of sedition blowYet to prevent expected harm, Sound from a coach-roof an alarm! The praise of order then rehearse, And bid them quietly disperse. Now change the note-and raise the stormTell them that nothing but Reform Can cure the sufferings of the poor, And drive starvation from the door That all subscription is absurd, Compared to this effective wordThat boldly for it they must stand, For it alone can save the landMake drooping manufactures thrive, And keep the nerves of trade aliveMake butchers, farmers, cease to cheat, And at fair prices sell their meatMake bakers pangs of conscience feelEnlarge the loaf-reduce the mealForce e'en hard landlords to relent, And live without receiving rent. Abolish (as the work warm waxes) Pensioners, parsons, tithes, and taxes; And bring, once more, the happy reign, Of Revolution back again!

THE SAILOR AND MONKEY.

On reading an account of the decision at the Mansion-House, between a Sailor and Showman, concerning a Monkey.

THY judgment, Smith, hath men surprised,
And wicked wags declare,
Whilst thou wast aping Solomon
The Monkey ap'd the Mayor.

MAD SONG BY MRS. OPIE.

AH! what is this that on my brow
Presses with such o'erwhelming power?
My love to heaven is gone I know;-
But 'tis to fix our bridal hour!-

Then on his tomb why should I sorrow?
He's gone!-but he'll return to-morrow.
Ahl then yon lofty hill I'll mount,
And seize on morning's brightest cloud;
On that I'll wait any love, and count

The moments till he leaves his shroud:

And he the rainbow's vest shall borrow,
To grace our bridal-day to-morrow.
Z2

But all's not right in this poor heart-
Yet why should I his loss deplore?
It was indeed a pang to part,
But when he comes he'll rove no more:

And all to-day can laugh at sorrow,
When sure of being olest to-morrow.
Then why am I in black array'd?
And why is Henry's father pale ?
And why do I, poor frantic maid,

Tell to the winds a mournful tale?

Alas! the weight I feel is sorrow-
No! no he cannot come to-morrow!

ORIGINAL POETRY.

ON

THE DEATH OF HARRIET ANGELINA,
Infant Daughter of Sir Thomas Acland.
BY MRS. M'MULLAN.

WHEN full-blown roses fade and fall,
We musing mark the doom of all;
When yellow autumn, drooping, sear,
Is gemm'd by winter's frozen tear;
When groes their tuneful choirs dismiss,
Nor echo hears an hymn of bliss-
We mourn not beauty's final fate,
Each season had its fullest date.
But oh! if in the youth of spring,
Ere opes the bud, ere fledged the wing,
Ere smiling rosebuds hail the morn,
And only Love's sweet hopes are born-
Should treach'rous rust, or icy gale,
Change damask tints to lifeless pale;
Then 'stead of spring's inspiring glow,
We grasp the vase of charmless woe ;
Weave cypress where delight should bloom-
Whilst weeping Pity marks the tomb,
Inhales the essence ere it die,
And wafts it to a kindred sky.

There blue-eyed amethyst is seen,
And emerald of lively green;
Pity and youth in fond embrace,
Soft image of the ductile race!

The topaz, rich in golden ray,
Joy-like is ever bright and gay;
The ruby-bat he glares too strong,
Remove the dazzler from the throng;
Semblance of glory, bane of rest,
He must not rear his vengeful crest:
His place let adamant supply,
Whose lustre may with honor vie!
And here the snowy pearl allot
Her modest merit we forgot;
As chastity, so pure from vice,
As chastity that pearl of price!
Ah! is there yet a vacant place,
Nor pebble left the void to grace?
That precious stone myself supply,
From the rare mine-humanity!

Behold the jewel's mild display!
No dross adheres to cloud her ray;
But beautiful, angelic, bright,
She cheers and gladdens mortal sight!
'Tis mercy! loveliest, rarest gem!
Despots at will my choice condemn!
Mercy! more precious than renown,
The noblest jewel in a monarch's crown!

WHY dost thou sigh, my love, and hang thy head?
Is it because our fortune looks unkind?
These sad reverses do attune the mind
To meet, with finer sense, the wayward maid
In all the witchery of smiles arrayed.

Mark yonder crow-how she doth stoop and yield

Her head to earth, ere she forsake the field To wing her flight up to her airy bed, Built in a nook of some high pinnacleSo you and 1, with woes acquainted well, Bending our pride to fortune's lowliness, Will soar, majestic in our griefs subdued, Above the curious gaze and whispers rude Of those dull fools who smile in scorn of our distress.

G. P. B.