Her coafts alarm'd with war's terrific din,
Her councils weak, and anarchy within:
Ripe to convince th' Iberian and the Gaul,
That Britain only can by Britain fall.

Perish the thought! O Liberty, forefend
Thy Britain hazard the inglorious end;
That the thro' civil broils to ruin rush!
She, whom confpiring nations fail to crush!
O rather give her worlds oppos'd to try,
Combin'd to conquer, or combin'd to die!
With thee, bright Goddefs! to renown aspire,
In life poffefs thee, or in death acquire!'

Subjoined to the Epiftles are fome judicious Notes, explanatory of feveral allufions to hiftory, literature, and biography; which, without fuch affiftance, would be traced with difficulty in a country where oriental languages and cuftoms are far from being very generally known.

ART. IV. The Disbanded Subaltern: An Epiftle from the Camp at Lenham. 4to. Is. 6d. Flexney.

E have received uncommon

W pleature in the perufal of this

elegant little poem, which is written in the character of an enfign about to quit the camp for the bar, though the ftile very much resembles that of a very fuperior officer in the Berkshire militia, whofe mafterly performance, "The Progrefs of Refinement," we had a few months fince the agreeable task of examining*.

But whoever may be the real author, this epiftle, we fhall take the liberty to affert, will never difgrace him; and we fincerely hope it will meet with the encouragement it fo well merits, though we have too much reafon to fear that this is not the age for rewarding poetical merit.

Let the reader of taste judge of the propriety of our plaudits, from the following extracts; which,copious as they may feem from a production of fo small a price, we could willingly have in

creafed.

"No longer now the well-brac'd drum fhall chear With fomething less than fixty pounds a year; For know, my friend, that unrelenting fate Hath doom'd me to the toil which moft I hate.

In me my partial guardians thought they faw
Sufficient fober dullness for the law;
When the gay pomp of battle's proud array,
With charms refiftlefs, led my heart away,
Yet ftill, (for, dire effect of pale ey'd peace!
This dariing fcene, this lov'd employ, fhall ceafe)
From early youth inftructed to fulfil,
With due refpect, their well-debated will,
The mind rebellious muft I frame, to bear
This life of apathy, this load of care.

Rous'd by the brifk reveillez early found, No more my steps fhall print the dew-clad ground; Thro' the dull pane the yellow morn fhall peep, And fnatch me grateful from unhallow'd fleep; When, rifing stupid from a restless bed, With all a London fog about my head, By gales with kennel-filth impregnate, fann'd, My quafhing fteps fhall trace the twilight ftand, To feek Aftrea's fane, whofe Gothic gate Shakes on its hinges at the loud debate, To take my station at the wrangling bar, And join the rob'd brigade in learned war.

"Can I, my friend, without regret behold This crimfon'd fcarlet, and this tarnish'd gold? E'en now my foul prophetic views the day, When o'er this heath my partial steps fhall ftray, Anxious, in pilgrimage devout, to trace Each time-worn veftige of this hallow'd place;' And penfive mufing, when, perhaps in vain, I feek this much-lov'd fpot to ascertain, Where many an hour has pafs'd in focial glee, Where now I give the vacant hour to thee. To former fcenes fhall partial memory fly, And each shall claim the tribute of a figh.

"When former fcenes fhall rise again to view, And joys long paft their flattering forms renew, Say, fhall my foul the jovial march forget, Or trace its pleafures, but with fond regret?

"When orient day first glimmers in the skies, And while with active vigour we prepare Wak'd by the general's lively call, we rife;

To breast the keenness of the morning air,
The fun-burnt foldier at an alehouse door

Pays from his fcanty purse his last night's score;
And, as his hoft a parting draught beftows,
The cumb'rous belt o'er his broad shouldersthrows,

Adjufts his knapsack, shakes his landlord's hand,
His mufket grafps, and takes his filent ftand.

Now to the martial band's enlivening found,
In duly-meafur'd steps we beat the ground;
But not unmindful of the window's height,

Which courts on either fide the glancing fight,
We pafs along-for there, all unarray'd,
Sweet as the morn, appears the lovely maid:
The well-adjufted curtain half reveals
Thofe charms which yet no cruel robe conceals,
For at the drum's rude found the left her bed,
By punctual love, or idle fancy led:

Perhaps her eyes, with vacant pleasure stray
O'er the well-form'd battalion's proud array;
Perhaps the feeks, repentant, to renew,
With kinder token, the last night's adieu.

While

While jocund as the party winds along,

Burfts the load laugh, or fwells the chearful fong.
'Can I forget, with emulation fir'd,
When my steps led them, and my mirth infpir'd,
How the men ftrove, with tale or carol gay,
To smoothe the deftin'd labour of the way;
Proud to divert, and grateful to my care,
How oft they vied th' approving laugh to share,
While the joke feign'd to feek a comrade's ear
Was juft told loud enough for me to hear?
See o'er yon brow, the goal of our defires,
At every step extend its length'ning spires,
While youth and age, the trader and the clown,
Sally to meet us from the defart town;
While many a lovely maiden trips along,
(Theme of the mercer's toaft, or curate's fong)
And, hailing our approach with chearful fmiles,
Glances infpiring ardour through the files.

Full many a furlong have I trac'd unfeen
The comely ferjeant's military mien,
His port erect, his firm commanding air,
The hoary honours of the well-club'd hair,
His furr-coned helmet, worn with studied grace,
The plumage waving o'er his burnish'd face,
The well-expanded fash of varied dye,
Whofe fringe rode graceful on his manly thigh,
The well-clean'd belts which crofs'd his ample
breaft,

His ftrutting chitterlin, and snowy veft;
Sweets which alone the wedded foldier proves,
The darling labour of the girl he loves.
When (as we march'd the gazing crowd among)
He caught th' applauding murmurs of the throng,
I faw his mien elate with honeft pride,
I faw him woo the glance from fide to fide;
With more expressive note his ready feet
Refponfive echo'd the drum's chearful beat;
Stern glanc'd his eye, full rofe his fwelling cheft,
And all the martial coxcomb ftood confefs'd.

On mirth's light pinions lifts the fleeting hour,
E'en when my foul fhall have forgot to feel,
Shall o'er my torpid breaft in pity steal,
And kindly bid me know, before I die,
The luxury of one remaining figh.

While thus, my friend, in artless rhyme I fing What fond regret from former joys fhall spring, Deem not I range in fancy's wilds alone; Another's feelings juftify my own.

"You knew Tennaile, who occupied of late The fnug brick housewhichfrontsourpaddock gate, The beft of kings hath ma k'd his foldier's claim, And amply recompens'd his martial fame; And now that scene of many a frolic gay, His former dwelling, owns another's sway.

The veteran's venerable form you knew, His clime-chang'd countenance, and slender queue, His golden brow with filver treffes fring'd, His cheek with vigour's parting blushes ting'd, His eye where ftill youth's wav'ring blaze remain'd, The darling fear which ftill his lip retain❜d, His beaver which from fields of deathless fame Had borne its princely mafter's honour'd name*,

His fplendid Sunday waistcoat, which of yore
On many a well-difputed day he wore.
Nor have you miss'd, in martial order plac'd,
The trophied arms which erft his parlour grac'd.

Oft have I ftol'n from home, a truant boy,
To hear of Dettingen, and Fontenoy;
Of artful ambufcades, of ftern alarms,
And prowess highly-fam'd in deeds of arms;
While the lime punch, or juftly-boasted ale,
At stated intervals, have crofs'd the tale.

'Now fadly glancing on his votive sword, (While rebel feeling check'd the rifing word) Thus would he fay-Till all-fubduing death Shall claim the tribute of my latest breath, Ne'er fhall my foul forget the fatal hour When the hard hand of unrelenting power Sign'd an obdurate order to disband, And drove me wretched from rever'd command. I love the vacant heart which mocks at toil, And welcomes danger with a careless smile; Whofe roar of laughter fpurns dull wisdom's law, And finds its frequent object in a ftraw. Such once poffefs'd the files which once I led, Such the brave friends with whom I fought and bled. How ftrong the chain which mutual peril binds, (Tho' foft its fhackles prefs) o'er social minds! How warm the love a good commander shares, Who courts diftinction by the toil he bears!

'E'en now I feel that mute respect impart Its wonted joys, which, fpringing from the heart, Sits in the corner of the watchful eye, To hail the lov'd commander paffing by: For fuch difplay'd the files which once I led, Such the brave friends with whom I fought and bled. I faw those friends in fruitless forrow mourn, From mirth, fociety, fubfiftence, torn;

Their mien no more difplay'd war's dreadful charms,

M

In fallen plight they pil'd their long-lov'd arms.
When on the morning of that fatal day
The gaudy band with countenance difmay'd
Doom'd the degrading pageant to display,
Stood ready form'd upon their last parade,
And the neat drummers waited the command,
Their eyes intent upon their major's hand!
On my fpontoon, in liftless mood reclin'd,
I woo'd the grief which footh'd my fadden'd mind.
The laft fad troop beat off-the mournful roll
Burft like a torrent o'er my torpid foul;
The chearless fife, in melancholy fwell,
Sung to my heart opprefs'd a fad farewel:
The brifk falute all anxious to display
When the refpectful fentry thwarts my way,
His care unnotic'd may I turn afide,
And wound with cold neglect his honest pride.
If the laft cadence of a found fo dear
Had not difgrac'd me with a coward tear,
But that the foldier, fwelling in my breast,
In painful victory that tear reprefs'd!

Our veteran thus-and while a tranfient glow
Hail'd his paft joy, or mourn'd his former woe,
Fir'd with his ardour, check'd with his dismay,
Sad when he forrow'd, with his pleasure gay,
A young enthufiaft, of untemper'd zeal,
I taught my reftlefs foul with his to feel.'

POETRY.

ELEGY ON WINTER.

OARSE blows the wind from yonder northern sphere,

HOAR

And loudly whiftles through the hollow wood; Deep groans, afcending from the caves, I hear, And furly murmurs from each limpid flood. See now ftern Winter, with a ruthless sway, Strips every tree, and withers every flower; No lark, exulting, hails the dawn of day;

No fongftrefs warbles at the midnight hour. The thrush and linnet, whofe mellifluous notes Full oft have made the vocal vallies ring, Penfively fit, nor fwell their little throats To chant the rural elegance of Spring. From out the windings of yon attic grove, Where naked trees folemnity create, Soft come the forrows of the plaintive dove, That mourns the abfence of her widow'd mate.

Round ruin'd piles the mantling ivy twin'd,

Screens the lone fcreech-owl from the noon-
tide glare:

Now, wak'd from flumbers by the liftless wind,
His boding cries the village matrons hear.
The open fields, which smiling Ceres crown'd
With golden fruits, that scented every gale,
Breathe now no more their fragrant fweets around,
Nor vie in fplendor with the humbler vale!
One dreary profpect ftrikes the gazing eye;

No plowmen whistle, and no milkmaids fing:
Cold froft, when Cynthia climbs the azure sky,
Congeals the earth, and locks up every spring.
The sportive trout, and the more lordly bream,
Reft of the influence of Apollo's ray,
No longer wanton in the liquid ftream,

Nor break it's furface at their hovering prey. On yon lone pond, to fcud along the slide,

The truant fchoolboys others oft entice; While fome, expert on fkaits, with manly pride Cut many a letter on the bending ice. Ere the fhrill clarion of the cock is heard, Forth to the barn the sturdy tasker hies; All day he toils, nor thinks his lot too hard, Whilft honeft labour every want fupplies: With pliant limbs he beats the well-dried grain, And round the door the half-ftarv'd poultry

creep;

Meanwhile fierce Boreas rages on the main,

And dreadful cataracts o'er the woodlands sweep. Down craggy rocks the beating rains defcend;

And, falling, mingle with the melting fnow: The lowing herds for refuge homeward bend,

And plodding ruftics quit the spade and plow. These round the fire their wearied limbs regale, And feel new vigour creep through every vein; And, when enliven'd with the Christmas ale,

No peer is happier than the humble (wain.

1

But, hark! loud cries falute my liftening ear!
The deep-ton'd cries of Poverty and Pain,
That draw from tender Sympathy a tear,
And afk of Affluence for relief in vain!

Ye hapless fouls, opprefs'd by rigorous Fate,
For you my heart with fofteft pity glows;
The learn'd are fools, the rich in vain are great,
If deaf and fenfelefs to another's woes!

To plead the anguish of the poor distress'd

To fome the powers of eloquence are given; And thofe of Peru or of Ind poffefs'd, Are nought but ftewards o'er the boon of Heaven. 'Tis theirs to wipe the tear from Sorrow's eye;; "Tis theirs the pangs of indigence to feel; 'Tis theirs the balm of comfort to apply,

And foothe the wound that Death alone can heal. Had Tafte, the nurse of every noble art,

Taught thefe another's merit to admire, Or had Compaffion touch'd a W-lp-'s heart, The Mules' favourite* ftill had ftruck the lyre. NORWICH. AMINTOR

CARLOC AND ORRA.

A TRANSLATION FROM THE ERSE. BY THE REV. W. F. MAVOR, MASTER OF THE ACADEMY ATWOODSTOCK.

Dr

Y'D in gore, and gash'd with wounds, Valiant champion, mount thy steed; Horrific war it's clarion founds,

Rife, and grasp thy fword with speed! If ever Orra touch'd thy heart,

Or her regard you wish to gain, Fly! thy prefent aid impart;

Meet her foes on yonder plain. Lo! the ruthless Irvan pours

Crimson'd hofts around my walls; Wild paffion on his eye-brow lours; Difmay my best-tried friends appale. To fnatch me from thy plighted love, The robber's deep-laid art he tries: Hafte! O hafte! and yonder prove

Thy title to my partial eyes!

Thus fpoke the maid: the hero's foul

Already deem'd the mandate flow; Reyenge and love by turns controul,

And each urge on his hafte to go. The valiant clans around him spread,

By arms and martial feats allied; With lengthen'd fhouts his courage fed, And Irvan's fhielded ranks defied. The fquadrons meet; the falchion broad, On either fide, mow'd ranks away: Acrofs the field grim Horror rode, And clouds of duft involv'd the day.

The war-voic'd Carloc dauntlefs plied
Where thickeft hofts enclose his foe;
His faithful guards, in glory's pride,

Already deem ftern Irvan low.
But, ah! how fhort the laurell'd bloom

That forms the bravest warrior's crown!
How foon the Fates their gifts refume,
And smiling Fortune wears a frown!
No fooner Irvan met his eyes,

Than Carloc hurl'd the well-pois'd fpear: The hoftile field the ftroke defies,

And countless foes furround his rear.
Brave Carloc's troops ill-fated ftrove

To break the phalanx firm and strong;
The chief himself, infpir'd by love,
Nor lefs by rage, refifted long.
With many a fhout he calls his bands;

Alas! no chearing fhout returns;
While, like the mountain rock he ftands,
And circling hofts intrepid fpurns.
At length, by Irvan's hand opprefs'd,

He fell; and, falling, ftabb'd his foe: A mutual wound transfix'd each breast, Nor ebb'd each vital current flow. The difmal tale to Orra came!

No frantic grief her face deforms; She neither weeps, nor wails her flame, Nor with a woman's weakness storms: But, rushing on th' enfanguin'd plain,

She fought the place where Carloc lay; With dauntless foul explor'd the flain,

To find her ill-ftarr'd lover's clay. She found him, gafh'd with many a wound; She kifs'd his gore-diftained face: Then rais'd his cold corfe from the ground, And grafp'd him in a laft embrace.

ADDRESS

IN FAVOUR OF A SINGING BIRD.

HE tuneful ftrains that glad thy heart,

Tahl whence, obdurate, do they flow?

Thy warbler's fong, unknown to art,

But breathes it's little foul of woe.

His life of pleasure but a day;

That tranfient day how foon it flies! Regard, my friend, the plaintive lay; Reftore him to his native fkies. Erewhile a tenant of the grove,

And blitheft of the feather'd train, He gave to freedom, joy, and love, The artlefs, tributary strain. Indignant, fee him fpurn the cage,

With feeble wings it's wires affail; And now defpair fucceeds to rage,

And forrow pour the mournful taleO you, whofe fond parental care

Firft bade my grateful fong arife;
First taught me how to wing the air,

And range abroad the boundless fkies:
My grief for you, ah! what can tell!
Who now each duteous right performs?

And, when you bid the world farewel,
With leaves fhall shroud your lifeless forms!
But, oh! fill deeper than the reft,

For thee, dear partner of my love!
Do anxious cares affail my breaft;

Ah! whither, whither doft thou rove?
What clime, what unknown region, hears
Thy tender fong of forrow flow?
Who now thy pentive moments chears,

And foothes or fhares thy every woe!
For thee I fram'd the tuneful lay-

Then, tuneful lay, farewel to you! To all that's charming, all that's gay; And thou, dear flatterer, Hope, adieu! NEW YORK. MATILDA.

LOATH'D in a fmile, when Ethelinda gay

CLOA

Knew neither love, nor Cupid's cruel fway, Each crimson charm, each Cytherean grace, Deck'd her fair form, and ting'd her lovely face: But, oh! remorfelefs, in an evil hour, Cupid to conqueft fummon'd all his power; Gilt a fharp arrow with bright Friendship's beam, Gave it the golden burnifh of efteem; ́And, as he barb'd with fecret love the dart, With wily mischief aim'd it at her heart. At first, with trembling hope, the angel maid Call'd it efteem; to think it love, afraid: Or, fcarcely conscious of his tyrant reign, Felt a fad pleasure, and a pleafing pain.

Soon (oh,how chang'd!)dim lour'd her languid eye, Swell'd the full breaft, and heav'd th' unconscious figh!

Deftin'd too foon (oh, beauteous maid!) to prove
The near connection of esteem and love!
All the fierce woes that paffion can prepare;
Abfence, and pain, and unavailing care.
Those cheeks no more glow with a vermeil-red;
Fled is each flower, each rofeate beauty fled:
That face no more those crimfon rofes warm;
Gone is each grace, and faded ev'ry charm!
Blooms no gay flow'ret on her cheek, but there
Reigns the pale lily, and her native tear!

2

Thus the wild harebell, tho' it courts the showers,
Swells it's blue bofom when the torrent pours;
Strives to erect it's flender ftem in vain,
And droops it's cold cup' on the defart plain.
Thus, when it glides meand'ring in the glade,
Rolls on the heath, or fparkles thro' the fhade;
Thus flows the sweet stream, to th embitter'd sea,
Tates the dark wave, and bitter flows away.

COLLIN ROOPE

AN

AN EVENT IN SCOTLAND.

FA

AR in the north of Britain's fpacious plain, Whofe fhore repels the Caledonian main, Deep in a fertile valley's calm retreat, In humble fplendor rofe Acafto's feat; A fmall domain his gentle empire own'd, His wants accomplish'd, and his wishes crown'd: One beauteous daughter to his prayer was given, A bright-ey'd emblem of her native heaven; Fram'd with celeftial tenderness, to prove The sweet confoler of his widow'd love.

But fixteen circles round th' attractive fun
He, grateful, faw our rapid planet run,
Since first he prefs'd his infant in his arms,
Hail'd the gay hour, and blefs'd her natal charms;
Now, joyful, finds her breast with virtue warm'd,
Her placid eye by filial love inform'd;

Views the bright prefage of her dawning years,
His hopes fupported, and repaid his cares;
While o'er her form charms Cytherean move,:
And every grace that captivates to love.

Now radiant Phœbus, down his western way, Through Heaven's blue concave pours declining day;

And grey-ey'd Eve, in orient blush array`d,
On earth's wide plane extends her twilight (hade.
Led by the tempting view, th' enraptur'd fair
Treads the gay lawn, and breathes the genial air;
Urg'd with delight, her eager footstep trays
Where a pure ftream in gentle tumult plays:
A flowery fofa near it's margin blows,
On which the lovely wanderer feeks repose;
Her angel-features in the fountain laves,
And from her hand imbibes the filver waves.
Thus the fair lily, near a rivulet's fide,
Bathes it's foft bofom in it's native tide;
Drinks the sweet dew, or taftes the lucid spring,
And scents the wanton zephyr's balmy wing..
In rural eafe, the tender nymph reclin'd,
Nor check'd the guiltlefs tranfport of her mind:
Peaceful, as pure, with tranquil nature charm'd,
No fears approach'd her, and no doubts alarm'd.
Here, too, a youth, by paffion taught to stray,
With anxious step purfu'd his devious way;
Explor'd the pathlefs bofom of the fhade,
And faw with kindling joy th' unconscious maid:
Late as, all elegant, he met his view,
Quick on his fight the fatal magic flew;
And now, amaz'd, convuls'd, his frantic foul
No more admits humanity's controul;
But pants, inflam'd, and glows with wild defire,
Licentious love, and luft's infuriate fire.
Forth from his ambush, with impetuous pace,
He rufh'd, and caught her in a rude embrace:
The timid beauty, trembling in alarms,
Indignant rofe, retreating from his arms;
By fear impell'd, and blushing with difdain,
Leap'd o'er the brook, and reach'd th' adjoining
plain:
Herlight-wing'dftep the wondering ruffian view'd,
And, mad with rage, the flying fair pursu’d.

T

But now, the field's extenfive limit gain'd, She, frighted, fees her hop'd efcape restrain'd: A rocky fteep, with dark impending brow, Terrific frowns, and awes the vale below. Here, on her knees, the weary fuppliant falls, Waits his approach, and on his mercy calls:

But, as the rock, the wretch regardless hears,
And views with fullen apathy her tears;
While from his eye-ball darts th' illicit flame,
With coward fury clafps her languid frame,
Yet ftill his favage purpose the withstands,
And, finking, ftruggles to elude his hands;
Her strength and virtue in one effort join,
And near the dreadful precipice incline;
Springs from his hold, and, giddy with furprize,
Down the ftupendous steep, delirious, flies!
It's flinty bafe receives her wounded breaft,
And life's pulfation ebbs to endless rest:
The foul, releas'd, forfakes it's fanguine clay,
And fwift to kindred feraphs foars away.

Now o'er the fteep th' infenfate murderer bends;
As on the expiring maid his fight defcends,
Surveys with pale despair the crimson tide;
And headlong follows down it's rugged fide:
His mangled form, rebounding, meets the ground,
(While deep concuffion rends the vast profound;) -
Congealing vapours clofe his ghastly eyes;
He groans, repentsand, fupplicating, dies!

Should Albion's youth th' eventful tale perufe, Strong in his bofom may the tragic close And owe one generous fervour to the mufe; Paint the fierce phrenzy of Açafto's woes! So may he fix th' ennobling purpose there, To cherish virtue, and protect the fair!

claim;

Let not young Edwin think his artless lays

Can please his ear, or confecrate his fame. His monarch's favour, and his country's love, His glorious toils with intereft will repay;i And fhall all the foft contentment prove Which an applauding confcience can convey. Envy will fling her poifon'd fhaft in vain Against the heart that honour fortifies; And Adulation, with her fawning strain, Our -'s noble bofom must despise! But ne'er did Edwin prostitute his pen,

The vile oppreffor of the poor to praife; Nor have the deeds of great, but wicked men, E'er been recorded in my humble lays.

Sacred to Virtue ftill has been my lyre:

She guides my actions, fhe infpires my fong; To her I owe the foft poetic fire,

And to her votaries all my ftrains belong.