For the Analectic Magazine.
FANCY! dear forest tripping queen,
Forever near, yet never seen!
If e'er thy footsteps lov'd to stray
Alone, through solitary way,
Where never wandering sunbeams glide,
And everlasting shadows bide;
If e'er thou sought'st the devious glen,
Far from noisy haunts of men;
Along whose wild and rocky way
The leaping torrent loves to play,
Come and abide in this lone scene,
Mid hoary cliffs and mosses green.
Here thou may'st sit apart from all,
Lull'd by the gushing water-fall,
Whose whirling tide is seen to leap,
With headstrong rage, adown the steep,
Scattering its glittering mists above,
And gemming all th' o'erchanging grove;
And as its soft care-soothing sound
Plays on the rapt ear all around,
Awake some wild unstudied strain,
Such as will please the rural train,
And touch the heart of gentle maid,
By naught but simple nature sway'd.
Or let thy mounting spirit rise,
And parley with the distant skies,
That through the twining branches shew
Just here and there a tint of blue.
Or listen to the amorous grove
That woos the vagrant Zephyr's love;
Or in thy magic mirror trace
Some musing maid, whose sober grace,
And touching, soul-subduing way,
Leads many a youth's light heart astray;
And often makes him sorely sigh,
And grieve, sad soul, he scarce knows why.
Or if to gloomy thought inclin'd,
List to the sighing of the wind,
That finds its sadly moaning way
Between the rocks all hoary gray,
And seems like wailing ghost to tell
Of murders in this shadowy dell.
Then think how from yon dizzy height
Some care-tired soul might wing its flight
Quick from this sad world here below,
And snatch from fate whole years of wo.
Or think how on some pelting night
A lone, bewilder'd, wandering wight,
Benighted far away from home,
And left in unknown paths to roam;
Scar'd by the screechowl's boding scream,
Daunted by lightning's livid gleam,
And muttering thunder rolling far,
With hollow sound, and fearful jar,
Might lose his forest-bounded way,
And, heedless of the danger, stray
To where yon pine trees frowning keep
Their watch upon the ridgy steep,
Whence headlong hurl'd, the screaming wight
Finds never end to that long night.
But if inclin'd to sportive mood,
Seek yon rude rock that breaks the flood,
Along whose sides in eddying play,
The azure bubbles speed their way.
And as adown the rapid tide
The little gaudy coxcombs glide,
Sparkling in rays of varying light,
And burst with swelling pride outright;
Think with a smile "such are our beaux,
Who sport awhile their Sunday clothes,
And dazzle us with splendid glare-
Then disappear-no one knows where.”
Then, goddess! shouldst thou change thy mind, And be for exercise inclin'd,
See yonder blood-red floweret peep,
Just o'er the margin of the steep,
And trembling wave ay here and there
With every gentle breath of air.
Thither, O! Fancy, thou cans't flit,
And in its petal careless sit,
Where blithely swinging to and fro,
Sweet airy motion thou wilt know,
Such as the Elfin pack most love
At moonlight, in some lonely grove.
If these delights, O! goddess dear,
Can win thy steps to linger here,
Come, and in this my lonely seat,
Thy most enchanting notes repeat.
Charm echo from yon trickling cave,
Call up the river gods that lave
In the pure bosom of the tide,
The Dryads that in woods abide,
And Sylvan lads, from forest rude,
Where pines old maiden solitude,
Who many a nymph from bubbling spring,
Lock'd arm in arm shall with them bring.
Then, if such fellowship might be,
And such stout rivals could agree,
Invite the little Elfin band,
That dance by moonlight hand in hand,
With that same mischief-making wight,
Who plays such pranks in summer night-
Mab's jester, who, to please the court
Of fairy queen, makes such rare sport
With dairy maids, and grown up boys,
Addled by love's expected joys-
I mean Dan Puck, who ties the grass
Across the path where schoolboys pass.
Who trip and tumble on their nose,
As many a luckless urchin knows.
And then to grace our rural treat,
A favour'd guest or two shall meet.
Young innocence that knows no guile,
And she who wears the gentlest smile,
With pure simplicity shall join
As welcome guests of yours and mine.
With these we 'll spend our blameless time,
In pleasant talk, or careless rhyme;
Nor envy those luxurious wights
Who have no soul for such delights.
[From Miss Baillie's Plays.]
NO fish stir in our heaving net,
And the sky is dark, and the night is wet;
And we must ply the lusty oar,
For the tide is ebbing from the shore:
And sad are they whose faggots burn,
So kindly stored for our return.
Our boat is small and the tempest raves,
And nought is heard but the lashing waves;
And the sullen roar of the angry sea,
And the wild winds piping drearily:
Yet sea and tempest rise in vain,
We'll bless our blazing hearths again.
Push bravely, Mates! our guiding star
Now from its towerlet streameth far;
And now along the nearly strand,
See, swiftly moves yon flaming brand;
Before the midnight watch is past,
We'll quaff our bowl and mock the blast.
GOOD COUNCILS OF CHAUCER.
Written in the agonies of death.
FLEE from the crowd, and be to virtue true,
Content with what thou hast, though it be small;
To hoard brings hate;-nor lofty things pursue:
He who climbs high endangers many a fall.
Envy 's a shade that ever waits on fame,
And oft the sun that raises it, will hide;
Trace not in life a vast expansive scheme,
But be thy wishes to thy state allied.
Be mild to others, to thyself severe-
So truth shall shield thee, or from hurt or fear.
Think not of bending all things to thy will,
Nor vainly hope that fortune shall befriend;
Inconstant she; but be thou constant still,
Whate'er betide, unto an honest end.
Yet needless dangers never madly brave,
Kick not thy naked foot against a nail;
Or from experience the solution crave,
If well and pitcher strive which shall prevail.
Be in thy cause as in thy neighbour's clear-
So truth shall shield thee, or from hurt or fear.
Whatever happens, happy in thy mind
Be thou; nor at thy lot in life repine;
He 'scapes all ill whose bosom is resign'd,
Nor way nor weather shall be always fine.
Beside, thy home 's not here; a journey this;
A pilgrim thou: then hie thee on thy way;
Look up to God, intent on heavenly bliss,
Take what the road affords, and praises pay. Shun brutal lusts, and seek the soul's high sphereSo truth shall shield thee, or from hurt or fear.
SELECTED FROM LATE LONDON PUBLICATIONS.
DURING the last three months the public have been gratified by an exhibition of the works of Sir Joshua Reynolds, at the rooms formerly the Shakspeare gallery in Pall Mall. The owners of many of the principal pictures of that great master having lent their treasures for the purposes of this exhibition, nearly 150 specimens of this transcendent genius have thus been brought into one point of view, and have afforded a high treat to the amateurs of fine painting. Sir Joshua required no better proofs of his divine grace, his accurate discrimination, his disciplined taste, and his powers of executing the happiest conceptions, than are to be found in every variety of composition in this exhibition. All the beauties of the first masters of the Italian and Flemish schools, with few or none of their offensive peculiarities, are to be seen in this assemblage of the original works of our British painter. Modest nature, graceful nature, intellectual nature, never appeared in more pleasing forms, than in the triumph of art afforded by these various works of our illustrious REYNOLDS.
Report of the progress of Chymistry.
A series of most interesting experiments upon the radiation of heat, has lately been instituted by Mr. Delaroche, which are at considerable variance with many of the principal conclusions formerly published by Count Rumford in his essays, and by Mr. Leslie, in his very excellent inquiry into the nature of heat, and which have hitherto been deemed incontrovertible. The celebrated Scheele first, we believe, observed the difficulty with which radiant heat made its way through solid bodies, and Mr. Leslie, from the great effect suddenly produced by the interposition of a glass screen between a radiating hot body and a thermometer, was led to conclude that glass is absolutely impermeable to radiant caloric; although at length it is heated by the absorption of caloric, and then becomes a radiating body itself. It is now, however, apparently proved that heat may radiate through glass; but that the rays of heat, like those of light, are of different kinds, some possessing the property of passing through glass more readily than others. Thus the radiant heat which flows from the body of a temperature beneath that of boiling water, is very difficultly transmitted through a glass screen, but as the temperature of the body is increased so is the facility of the transmission of its rays increased; the radiation of heat from a hot body to a colder one increasing in a greater proportion than the temperature of the body is increased. From these facts, were it not for the following one, viz. that a thick screen of glass, although as permeable to light as a thinner one, does not so easily afford a passage to calorific rays as a thin
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