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lined to be her destruction—she never came back. It was fine summer weather, with a very fresh breeze. The lover was to manage the sail; and as I am no proficient in nautical terms, I can only blunderingly relate the disaster according to my conceptions of it. The lover sat with one arm round Mary's waist, and read on the same page of the book with her; he held in the other hand the theet or rope which regulated the sail, and did not fasten it to its proper place. In assisting to turn over a leaf, lie let the rope fly loose—a squall came on at that very instant—the boat upset, and out of the three, the brother only (from whom these particulars were heard) was saved by regaining the overturned boat, as it floated bottom upwards; and the corpse of the hapless young woman was discovered some days after, a great way off, upon the mud. Can it be wondered at, that, as a boy, I crept closer to the old mourner, and heard, with a fall heart, the dismal story, which I knew so well before? But, as I have said, it made more than an ordinary appeal to my sympathy; for I thought myself somewhat inTolved in it by the circumstance of the book. Indeed the volume, young as I was, was a thing not above my comprehension, for it was one of a misceln, called the Pocket Magazine. I read in the identical one so lost; and the gap in the set at home did then bring, and has often since brought, that fatal turning of the leaf full upon my imagination. Upon what a brittle thread does our existence hang! The warm pulses of youth, and love, andbeauty, of high and undoubting hope, and of passionate but innocent transport, were all stopt without a warning! Here sat two young creatures, this moment in fond belief that their course of life was as fair before them as the sunny path upon the waves, over which their boat was dancing—the next moment, " the rush of water was on their souls!" Little bosoms heaved with sighs at the recital, and Little eyes swam with tears hi that innparlour—but the tears of childhood are proverbial for their rapid evaporation; and, with reference to the present circumstance, I might allegorize this pretty stanza which fixes the time of year, ih a little poem of my acquaintance,— Vol. XV.

"It was the pleasant season yet, •
When stones at cottage doors

Dry quickly, while the roads are wet.
After the silver showers."

Let the ikinine stones be the smooth cheeks of the child, and the roads the channelled features of the aged—and here were some of us youngsters in the pleaiant season yet, in which the fiver showers of sympathy dry quickly, while the transition refused to take place so easily beneath the wrinkled eyelids of our old guide, which still were wet, and for a time he was not so light-hearted as before. Children, however, are restless animals; no sooner was our campaigning dinner at an end, than we began to think what might be done next. The glare of noon was over the beach—it was too hot work to go again upon the sands—it would have been toil, instead of sport, again,

—— "with printlcss foot, To chase the ebbing Neptune, and to fly

him When he comes back."

So we wandered over the drawbridge of the Castle, and lurked about under the shade of its walls, peeping from time to time through the embrasures, where the moving pictures we caught through them were heightened in effect by the setting of the dark frame. Carronades and pyramids of iron-balls, and serpentlike coils of cordage, and the reit of the materiel of a fort, had no very permanent attractions, even though onr friendly old engineer was now upon his own ground, and loquaciously descanted on many topics of great interest to himself; such as the range of the guns, and what execution would be done, if the French dared to anil in between the Needles, and much of the same import. At last the tide began to give signs of serving our purpose again ; our boat was seen afloat; and the old waterman who brought us down, called out to us, as he hoisted his waistband with one hand, while he scratched his poll with the other, that he could now take us back, if we had a mind for it. He only delayed while we collected our treasures, which.with ourselves, being safely stowed, our Charon pulled stoutly tor my place of sojourn, where a bubbling kettle for tea, an ample milk jug, and a hot hearth cake large as our appetite, awaited our return. R.



'twas in those hours of Youth's delicious spring,
When not a cloud 'mid ether's depths can stray,
But Hope's fond vision sees it melt away, And every gale bears fragrance on its wing— I first adventured my weak hand to fling
O'er the sweet lyre, and pour'd a simple lay
To Her who held me in her secret sway— Ah! all unworthy I those charms to sing!Since then seven lustres—half a life !—have flown,
And many a meteor-blaze has flamed and fled,
And many a bright illusion charm'd and died!—Still, still She sits upon my memory's throne,
Unchanged! with such effulgence round her shed,
111 yet mine eyes the glorious scene abide.

F. R.


Dear Christopher,

It has struck me that Horace, the Votes of old Rome, may have had a prophetical reference, in his Donarem pateras, &c. (Od. iv. 8.) to these later times. You shall judge of the extent and closeness of the parallel from the following paraphrase, to which I have but little to premise.

You will observe, that I apply the vota in the last line of the original to the devoted Cockneys, and the rates to the vessels of the brewery immortalized by Peter Pindar—reading, by the by, Pindaridee for Tyndaridce: to the latter version our friend Buller says, the quassas, " quassia'd," gives irresistible sanction. Those, who recollect the part taken by the late Lord Londonderry in early life on the question of Reform, et similia, will readily admit him to be a fit representative of Alcides, {quasi, All-sides.) The Liber of the last line I have translated, "The Book," meaning, of course, your Book. I am aware, that it is usually construed, " Bacchus." Archdeacon Wrangham, I see, in his Version of the Lyrics, adopts the received interpretation; and I will fairly own, that I was myself staggered not a little by the preceding pampinus —it is the nature, you will add, of the plant—till it occurred to me, that it was most probably put c-w&xJ x"1*.' for vitis, the ordinary instrument of castigation in the Roman armies. This, instantly set all to rights. I claim your "ben trovato."

Buller further assures me, that as a double of the Ilia Mavortisque puer, I have hit upon a right personage in the " Marchesa's son." He throws in a sly conjecture, that her Ladyship may be rather hard upon her tenants in these times, the dura messorum Ilia. I rather take her to be obscurely obumbrated as the Ilia nimium querens.

Yours, very truly,

W. Seward.

Christ-Church, Oct. 29,1823

P. S. You will give our common friend credit for some forbearance, when I tell you that he thinks it invidious to press the word interest, as applied to the modern Hercules, or to detail his very happy parallel of the Twelve Labours: only hinting, that in old Wood he had to encounter the Boar of the Forest of Erymanthus; that the Hydra is the radical "beast of many heads;" the Bull, any antagonist Irishman you choose. M. A. Taylor, one of the carnivorous Birds of the Stymphalides; and Hume the Dragon, guarding the golden apples of Hesperia, the island of the West. Other points of more painful resemblance he, in generous delicacy, wholly omits. His greatest difficulty was, to find the "golden-horned" equivalent in the Opposition, whether we apply it to the Corntt Capiat, or to the Cornu Conjuga/e.

HOB. OD. IV. 8.

Gold would I give my friends, or plate— Tureens for soup, epergnes for state— Or medals won at Cambridge, prizes For Greek and Latin exercises;Nature's sweet scenes from Turner's easel, Or breathing stone from Chantrey's chisel;Portraits and busts, by waggon-loads, Of chieftains only less than Gods:— Nor, Walter, should you bear the least Of these rich bounties, were I blest With plenty of such precious stuff— But you've already quantum stiff. Since then you say you like the chime, For once I'll treat you with a rhyme:And rhyme has merit now and then, ^' \When Scott or Wordsworth wields the pen. r 4Nay—that I may not seem to flatter— If negatives will mend the matter, Not thanks unanimously sent ''By either House of Parliament;Gazettes, whose page embalms the dead, Or wreathes with bays the living head;Thy billows, Spain, with carnage dyed;Napoleon's menaces defied; .Boulogne's armada wrapp'd in flames, Or bleeding Denmark's widow'd dames— So everlastingly record The memory of Trafalgar's Lord, As can the Muse. If she her lyre Unstring, the hero's deeds expire. O, what were the Marchesa's son, Had not the Post-bag of Tom Brown ',Given him to fame? The Poet's breath, Omnipotent, o'er-masters death. Brook Watson, 'mid West-Indian waves By shark half-gorged, the Rolliad saves:Sung by Tom Brown, at Congress-feast Sits Castlereagh, a jovial guest:By Pindar snatch'd from Lethe's tide, Old Whitbread's quassia'd vessels ride;And fools by satire kept alive, Vine-scourged, in Blackwood's book survive.


On the Snuff-Box bequeathed to her by

Donum temne, Chlb'e: fluit cruore! Lady, reject the gift! 'tis tinged with

Atrox hae macule eloqui videntur gore!

Clara voce nefas! Alarms (nee ista Those crimson spots a dreadful tale re

Vidit ipse Acheron scelestiorem) late:

Hoc qua dat tibi, stravit Enghienum! It has been grasp'd by an infernal Power;And by that hand, which seal'd young Enghien's fate.

• The two following little pieces are from the classic pen of Archdeacon Wrangham. We venture to reprint them from one of the copies meant for private circulation.

Donum teninc, Chlo'e; latent in ilia Lady, reject the gift: beneath its lid

Clause pyxide Frausque, Erisque, et omne Discord, and Slaughter, and relentless Quod vastatque teritque. Tune terras war,

Monstris hisce iterum dabis regendas? With everyplagueto wretched man liehid—

Let not these loose to range the world afar.

In tc quid sibi saxeus tyrannus,
Tarn molli, reperirc par putabat?
Quando inter se aquila? et levi columbae
Convenit; lupus aut tenebat agnum
Amplezans? Domus* Addisono amata
In mentem venial tibi, dapumque
Su 111 conscia; chorda ubi Rogersi
Mellito laqueata tecta cantu
Jam nunc personal, accinente Musi,
Et saltat chorus usque Giatiarum.

Tale illas sinis inquinare donum •Mile-.? Ah! quid agis? Nefas dolosum Frangas, ni Dryadas cupis fugare, Pacemque, et quot amant nemus quietum Virtutes; quibus inde dira pulsis Succedet Lemurum cohors quercntum. Istam tangere vellc delibutam Tabo pyxida perge—cscsa turba Nili ad ostia Moscuoxiue in oris Exsurget, tibi qua? polum occupabit Atra nube, adimetque flcndo somnos.

Vosqiic 6, compcde quoi mala tyranni Verduna; tenuit dolus, pcresos Longa i .ih., animo hanc satam pusillo Indignatio nonne libera omnis Aversaturet odit ultionem?

Tu ne spemito qualecunquc nostrum Carmen, ceu leve: sed sacrum profundo Merges, oro, malum; vel hauriendum Magno dcs Thames!, quod iste fluruen Solum baud polluit—haud datum cat—

cruore. ffav. 7, 1821.

Say what, congenial to his heart of stone,

In thy soft bosom could the Tyrant trace?

When does the dove the eagle's friendship


Or the wolf hold the lamb in pure em. brace?

Think of that -f- pile, to Addison so dear, Where Sully feasted, and where Rogers'


Still adds sweet music to the perfumed air, And gently leads each Grace and Muse along.

Pollute not, then, these scenes—the gift


'Twill scare the Dryads from that lovely shade;

With them will fly all rural peace and joy, Andscreaming fiends their verdanthaunts invade.

That mystic Box hath magic power to raise

Spectres of myriads slain, aghastly band;

They'll vex thy slumbers, cloud thy sunny


Starting from Moscow's snows or Egypt's sand.

And ye who, bound in Verdun's treacherous chains,

Slow pined to death beneath a base control, Say, shall not all abhor, where Freedom

reigns, That petty vengeance of a little soul?

The warning Muse no idle trifler deem: Plunge the cursed mischief in wide

Ocean's flood;

Or give it to our own majestic stream— The only stream he could not dye with blood.


I Jtes OfEcium diu et Voluptas flessere. Ut fit,'in ambulatinne Iluic llleJ obvius; "Haud mihi molcsta," Dixit, " tecum habita :" simul minando Subridens; " nimis ah ! amata, abito: Nog parum juvat csse rani severos."

Contra Haic; " ne tctricus sics, labo


Insamtm tolerare perge; tantis
Quid nos dissidiis teramus usque?
Esto, si libet, asper—haud repugno—


Duty and Pleasure, long at strife, Cross'd in the common walks of life. "Pray don't disturb me, get you gone," Cries Duty, with a serious tone: Then, with a smile; "keep off, my dear, Nor force me thus to be severe."

"Dear Sir," cries Pleasure, " you're so


You make yourself a perfect slave.
I can't think why we disagree;
You may turn Methodist for me:

'1- .1. Hollandi&iue. f Holland House.

t Sic, nun CUycerium, apua Ta. ; Scrvitia ttuc Hbirttltu iauiunsires, apud Liv. \.\

Et ludos rejice, ut soles, jocosquc:
At me ludere, me simis jocari.
— Posset attamen imiocenter una
Spectanda; homla, tristisuna, Neil.e
Insumi: eia tantulum, nee ultra;
Et vitae breve pone id omne lucro.
Audin'? cantat avis : viden' ? renident
Flores—quin celeres morare passus."

"Vixdum dimidium (gemit) rei, quam
In votis fuit exsequi, peTactum est:
Falsi, quo trahis inscium, colores
Ludunt me undique, imaginesque falsa;.
Qua; jactas (stimulis sed, ah ! relictis)
Venti gaudia differunt protervi!
Quo me, quo rapis?" Admonent strcpen-

Voces; " Quam petis, evolavit: urget,
Obrepens tacito gradu, Senectus:
Diem, dum licet, occupes fugacem.
En ! post terga premit mala ./Egritudo,
Impendet Dolor—abstineto fletus:
Uno, perstitcris, laborc porta;
Ccelestes pateant; ibique amore
Conjuncti Officium et simul Voluptas
/Elerno parilique ament, amentur."

But, if you'll neither laugh nor play,
At least don't stop me in my way.
Yet sure one moment you might steal,
To see the lovely Miss O'Neil:
One hour to relaxation give;
Oh ! lend one hour from life—to live.
And here's a bird, and there's a flower—
Dear Duty, walk a little slower."

"My morning's task is not half done,"
Cries Duty with an inward groan;
"False colours on each object spread,
I know not whence, or where, I'm led!
Your bragg'd enjoyments mount the wind,
And leave their venom'd stings behind.
Where are you flown ?"—Voices around
Cry," Pleasure long hath left this ground;
Old Age advances; haste away!
Nor lose the light of parting day.
See Sickness follows, Sorrow threats—
Waste no more time in vain regrets:
O Duty ! one more effort given
May reach perhaps the gates of Heaven ,
Where only, each with each delighted,
Pleasure and Duty live united!"
Nov. 5,1821.



To Christopher North, Esq.

The ready insertion which you gave to my former letters, has emboldened me to address you, in the same free style, on a more general topic.

I think, sir, that it is of some use to myself, and may also be useful to others, to take, from time to time, a bird's-eye view of the state of public opinion, and to consider what has been resolved into principle, and what is still but notion and sentiment. Perhaps, for a long period of years, there has been no epoch at which this could be so advantageously done as the present. The last embers of the Revolutionary conflagration, which so long agitated and alarmed the world, have just been extinguished. Everywhere the ancient governments have been restored; throughout the whole of Christendom, such is the apparent resuscitation of the past, that it would puzzle one who was familiar with the previous state of Europe, but accidentally unacquainted with the events which have occurred in the interim, to say that any material alteration, beyond what might have been anticipated from the progress of time and the casualties of human life, has taken place in the frame of society since the autumn of 1788.

This is curious,—a renovation so singular/after a dissolution so general, might almost justify me to call the present state of the world a marvellous resurrection, if the phenomenon were in substance what it is in seeming—if it possessed that original life, nature, and conformation, which belonged to the system prior to the Revolutionary destruction. But when we approach to examine it, the apparition passes from our grasp; as we advance it retires, and we are appalled when, instead of the living and practical being to which we were reverentially disposed to do homage as to a restored and beloved object, we find it is but the phantom of a charnel-house, and that we are surrounded by the shreds of those honours, and the ske. letons of those powers, which gavegrace and energy to the olden condition of man!

Ina word, to consider the present appearance of the political state and relations of the world as endowed with any substance or principle of vitality, would be to deny the influence of moral and of physical sensation; for statesmen to reason and to act now according to the maxims of their predecessors—that is, of those who were in power before the French Kevolu

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