314 DEATH OF THE PRINCESS CHARLOTTE.

Reflect on Charlotte's early doom,
And mark the triumph of the tomb!

But if with nobler passions fraught,
Thy soul, despising meaner things,
Aspire to dignity of thought,

A great ambition, worthy kings!

If to religion's sacred zeal

The love of liberty be join'd; With charity, to deeply feel

The sorrows that afflict mankind

Rejoice for to unspotted worth

Behold what rich rewards are giv'n;

Living, dying-peace on earth,

And Immortality in Heav'n.

FRIENDSHIP.

Ан, Friendship! how oft have I try'd
To find thee, but ever in vain;

'Midst the turbulent children of pride,
And the humble delights of the plain.

And when, at thy glorified shrine
My heart hath her orisons paid ;
Hope, smiling, presented thee mine,
follow'd-but found thee a shade!

"Tis Love that awakens our fires,

While Friendship with sympathy glows; 'Tis Beauty inflames our desires,

And Friendship that softens our woes.

When hope has forsaken the mind,
And nought but despair is in view,
How happy the wretch who can find
A heart that to Friendship is true!

Then give me these blessings supreme,
Ye powers indulgent above,

The Friend, who shall gain my esteem,

And the fair, who shall merit my love.

HOPE.

WHAT though the shades of death descend

On her my soul holds dear;

And those that o'er her pillow bend,
May soon surround her bier—

My fainting heart shall not despair,
But look beyond the grave:
Hath pitying heav'n less will to spare?
Hath God less pow'r to save?

Yet happier they, who call'd to rest,
Ere sorrow fades their bloom,
Awhile a blessing are-and blest-
Then sink into the tomb-

For them the Spring's gay buds

appear,

And Summer paints the flow'r; They fall, ere Autumn's leaf is sear, Or wintry tempests low'r.

And tho' they part with fond regret,
While still the leaves are green;
How mournful they, imprison'd yet,
Who long to quit the scene.

The broken heart may heave a sigh, E'en while it bows to heav'n; And if a tear bedew my eye,

That tear shall be forgiven.

THE WORN-OUT TAR.

"Navita de ventis, de taurus narrat arrator,
Enumerat miles vulnera, pastor oves."

THE ship was now in sight of land,

And crowds from shore with joy did hail her, The happy hour was nigh at hand

When each sweet lass would see her sailor : How gallantly she ploughs her way! To England's shores returning back; And ev'ry heart is light and gay, Except the heart of honest Jack.

From hardy youth to vig'rous age,

With sturdy arm he stemm'd the wave; And in the battle's hottest rage

He fought, the bravest midst the brave: And many a bitter sigh he gave,

And scarce suppress'd the starting tear; He wish'd the sea had prov'd his grave, Some shot had clos'd his long career.

For he was old, his frame was worn,

His cheek had lost its manly hue;