Oh, then, sweet spirit! from the realms above,
Display the pure effulgence of thy love;
Pour on my wearied soul thine influence bland,
And all the mind's warm energies expand.
Direct my pen, inspire the glowing theme,
And wrap my fancy in the poet's dream.
Then shall my song to deathless fame aspire,
And unborn ages shall the strain admire.
Alas! unheard the tumbling numbers roll;
No kindling transports elevate my soul;
No cheering foretaste of immortal fame,
A wo-worn spirit, such as mine, can claim.
No smiling prospects from without is seen,
And all is dark and comfortless within,

Save one bright beam of heaven-descended light,
Which streams its radiance through this gloomy night:
One joy misfortune ne'er shall banish hence,
The high-toned pride of conscious innocence.
This shall support me while my verse records
The sacred joys a lettered life affords.
This holy flame my shattered bark shall guide,
As swift she dashes through the foaming tide;
And when my fainting spirit sinks in death,
When joyful I resign a fleeting breath,
This brilliant beam shall point the onward way,
Which leads triumphant to the realms of day.
There my rapt soul shall seek her blest abode,
An humble suppliant at the throne of God.

HENRY DE CLIFFORD.

FOR THE PORT FOLIO.

SONNET TO STELLA, ON RECEIVING HER PICTURE.

As oft with sad desponding soul,

Life's darker, gloomier scenes I view,
And thickening clouds around me roll,
Tinged with despair's envenomed hue ;
When Hope, obscured amid the storm,
Presents no soft, no cheering light,
But Horror's mist-encircled form,
Roll sullen on the troubled sight;

When grief's harsh tempests round me fly,
With force to shake a subject world,
Should this dear pledge arrest my eye,
Back shall the storm be proudly huri'd :
Since Fate, for some mysterious end,
Leaves me one tender generous friend.

H. D. C.

ANECDOTE.

JUST after a division in the House of Commons on a motion of Mr. Fox, a member who had been absent the whole day, came down to the house full of the grape. Whether it was to make amends for having played the truant, or whatever other motive we know not, but nothing could prevent the baronet from attempting to speak on the honourable member's second motion; but beginning with "Sir I am astonished," the claret drenched patriot could go no further. The house, however, did not discover the Baronet till he had repeated the verb astonished seven times, when a general merriment ensued. Sir George was offended at the levity of the members, and, asking if there was any thing ridiculous in the word, began again, "Sir, I say, I am astonished;" which repeating three or four times more the house was in the loudest roar of laughter. The baronet then appealed to the speaker, who pleasantly asked him what he would have him to do. The tipsy gentleman took fire at this, and declared he would not give up the word, "for I am really astonished, quite astonished that-I am astonished," and was proceeding; but, finding the bursts of laughter too strong for his obstinacy, he was induced, by the advice of his friends, after having mentioned the word astonished above a dozen times more, to change it for surprised, by which time having entirely forgotten what he intended to have said, he sat himself down.

A MAN going into a barber's shop to be shaved, popped his head through one of the squares of the window which was made of oiled paper instead of glass, and asked, is the barber within. Strap, popping out his head throug another square, answered Just gone out, sir.

AN Hibernian telling his friend that passing along the street he saw a person on the other side with whom he thought he was acquainted, said, I crossed to see him, I thought I knew him, and he thought he knew me; but by - it was neither one nor t'other of us.

VARIETY.

You shall not see a sailor, says a very quaint author, without a good large pair of silver buckles, though what he has about him else be altogether mean; the reason they give for it is that, in cases of shipwreck, they have something with them whereof to make money. Although the writer of this whimsical passage was a legitimate son of John Buyet we doubt exceedingly whether it be applicable to ritish tar; but we must confess, with the tears running down our cheeks, and with the most profound respect for our invaluable country, not forgetting dear Nancy New England, that sweetest of charmers, that any thing about him whereof to make money is finely descriptive of your Yankee sailor.

THE COACHMAKER'S FAITH.

See Shabby's coach along the village runs,

Drawn by four scrubs, pursued by thrice four duns :
Landscapes and arms adorn the gay machine,

Without all vanity, all vice within;

The mob the gaudy pageant strikes; they gaze,

And thy surpassing art, O Fielding, praise :

In different views thy merit I explore,

Thy works surprise me, but thy faith much more.

AN author, whose works had been severely criticised in the Edinburgh Review, assured a friend that he wished, of all things, to write down that journal: then write in it, said his friend.

Mr. Southey, with great good humour, thus adverts to the number of times of sufferance, when he has been cut up by the knife of the critical anatomist, from the butchers in the Critical Review, to the surgeons of Edinburgh.

"An author is proof against reviewing, when, like myself, he has been reviewed above seventy times; but the opinion of a reviewer, upon a writer's first publication, has more effect, both upon his feelings and success, than it ought to have, or would have, if the mystery of the ungentle craft were more generally understood.

The price of The Port Folio is six dollars per annum,

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