One moment rose he with a forced disdain,
And then abash'd, sunk sadly down again;
While in our hero's glance he seem'd to read,
"Slave and insurgent! what hast thou to plead?"—
By desperation urged, he now began:

“I seek no favour-I-the Rights of Man!
“Claim; and I—nay !—but give me leave—and I
"Insist―a man-that is-and in reply,

"I speak."—Alas! each new attempt was vain:
Confused he stood, he sate, he rose again;
At length he growl'd defiance, sought the door,
Cursed the whole synod, and was seen no more.

"Laud we," said Justice Bolt," the Powers above;
"Thus could our speech the sturdiest foe remove."
Exulting now he gain'd new strength of fame,
And lost all feelings of defeat and shame.

"He dared not strive, you witness'd-dared not lift "His voice, nor drive at his accursed drift: "So all shall tremble, wretches who oppose "Our church or state-thus be it to our foes." He spoke, and, seated with his former air, Look'd his full self, and fill'd his ample chair; Took one full bumper to each favourite cause,

And dwelt all night on politics and laws,

With high applauding voice, that gain'd him high ap

plause.

TALE II.

THE PARTING HOUR.

I did not take my leave of him, but had
Most pretty things to say: ere I could tell him
How I would think of him, at certain hours,
Such thoughts and such ;—or ere I could
Give him that parting kiss, which I had set
Betwixt two charming words-comes in my father-

Cymbeline, Act I. Scene 4.

Grief hath changed me since you saw me last,
And careful hours with Time's deformed hand
Have written strange defeatures o'er my face.

Comedy of Errors, Act V. Scene 1.

Oh! if thou be the same Egean, speak,
And speak unto the same Emilia.

Comedy of Errors, Act V. Scene 5.

I ran it through, ev'n from my boyish days
To the very moment that she bad me tell it,
Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances,
Of moving accidents, by flood, and field;
Of being taken by th' insolent foe
And sold to slavery.

Othello, Act I. Scene 3.

An old man, broken with the storms of fate,
Is come to lay his weary bones among you;
Give him a little earth for charity.

Henry VIII. Act IV. Scene 2.

TALE II.

THE PARTING HOUR.

MINUTELY trace man's life; year after year,
Through all his days let all his deeds appear,
And then, though some may in that life be strange,
Yet there appears no vast nor sudden change:
The links that bind those various deeds are seen,
And no mysterious void is left between.

But let these binding links be all destroy'd,
All that through years he suffer'd or enjoy'd;
Let that vast gap be made, and then behold—
This was the youth, and he is thus when old;
Then we at once the work of Time

And in an instant see a life's decay;

survey,

Pain mix'd with pity in our bosoms rise,
And sorrow takes new sadness from surprise.

Beneath yon tree, observe an ancient pair-
A sleeping man; a woman in her chair,
Watching his looks with kind and pensive air;