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The heart that bleeds with sorrows all its own,
Forgets the pangs of friendship to bemoan.-
Albert and Rodmond and Palemon here,
With young Arion, on the mast appear;
Even they, amid th' unspeakable distress,
In every look distracting thoughts confess;
In every vein the refluent blood congeals,
And every bosom fatal terror feels.
Inclosed with all the demons of the main,
They view'd th' adjacent shore, but view'd in vain.
Such torments in the drear abodes of hell,
Where sad despair laments with rueful yell,
Such torments agonize the damned breast,
While fancy views the mansions of the blest.
For Heaven's sweet help their suppliant cries implore;
But Heaven, relentless, deigns to help no more!

And now, lash'd on by destiny severe,

With horror fraught, the dreadful scene drew near!
The ship hangs hovering on the verge of death,
Hell yawns, rocks rise, and breakers roar beneath!-
In vain, alas! the sacred shades of yore
Would arm the mind with philosophic lore;
In vain they'd teach us, at the latest breath,
To smile serene amid the pangs of death.
E'en Zeno's self, and Epictetus old,
This fell abyss had shudder'd to behold.
Had Socrates, for god-like virtue famed,
And wisest of the sons of men proclaim'd,
Beheld this scene of frenzy and distress,
His soul had trembled to its last recess !-
O yet confirm my heart, ye powers above,
This last tremendous shock of fate to prove.
The tottering frame of reason, yet sustain!
Nor let this total ruin whirl my brain!

In vain the cords and axes were prepared,
For now th' audacious seas insult the yard;
High o'er the ship they throw a horrid shade
And o'er her burst, in terrible cascade.
Uplifted on the surge, to heaven she flies,
Her shatter'd top half buried in the skies,
Then headlong plunging, thunders on the ground,
Earth groans! air trembles! and the deeps resound!
Her giant bulk the dread concussion feels,
And quivering with the wound, in torment reels;
So reels, convulsed with agonizing throes,
The bleeding bull beneath the murd'rer's blows.-
Again she plunges! hark! a second shock
Tears her strong bottom on the marble rock!
Down on the vale of death, with dismal cries,
The fated victims shuddering roll their eyes
In wild despair; while yet another stroke,
With deep convulsion, rends the solid oak;
Till like the mine, in whose infernal cell
The lurking demons of destruction dwell,

At length asunder torn, her frame divides,
And crashing spreads in ruin o'er the tides,

As o'er the surge the stooping main-mast hung,
Still on the rigging thirty seamen clung:
Some, struggling, on a broken crag were cast,
And there by oozy tangles grappled fast;
Awhile they bore th' o'erwhelming billows' rage,
Unequal combat with their fate to wage;
Till all benumb'd and feeble they forego
Their slippery hold, and sink to shades below.
Some, from the main-yard-arm impetuous thrown
On marble ridges, die without a groan.
Three with Palemon on their skill depend,
And from the wreck on oars and rafts descend.
Now on the mountain-wave on high they ride,
Then downward plunge beneath th' involving tide;
Till one, who seems in agony to strive,
The whirling breakers heave on shore alive;
The rest a speedier end of anguish knew,
And prest the stony beach, a lifeless crew!

Next, O unhappy chief! th' eternal doom
Of Heaven decreed thee to the briny tomb!
What scenes of misery torment thy view!
What painful struggles of thy dying crew!
Thy perish'd hopes all buried in the flood,
O'erspread with corses! red with human blood!
So pierced with anguish hoary Priam gazed,
When Troy's imperial domes in ruin blazed;
While he, severest sorrow doom'd to feel,
Expired beneath the victor's murdering steel.
Thus with his helpless partners till the last,
Sad refuge! Albert hugs the floating mast;
His soul could yet sustain the mortal blow,
But droops, alas! beneath superior woe:
For now soft nature's sympathetic chain
Tugs at his yearning heart with powerful strain;
His faithful wife for ever doom'd to mourn
For him, alas! who never shall return;
To black adversity's approach exposed,

With want and hardships unforeseen enclosed:
His lovely daughter left without a friend,
Her innocence to succor and defend;
By youth and indigence set forth a prey
To lawless guilt, that flatters to betray--
While these reflections rack his feeling mind,
Rodmond, who hung beside, his grasp resign'd;
And, as the tumbling waters o'er him roll'd,
His out-stretch'd arms the master's legs enfold.-
Sad Albert feels the dissolution near,
And strives in vain his fetter'd limbs to clear;
For death bids every clinching joint adhere.
All-faint, to heaven he throws his dying eyes,
And, "O protect my wife and child!" he cries:
The gushing streams roll back th' unfinish'd sound!
He gasps! he dies! and tumbles to the ground!

CATHERINE TALBOT. 1720-1770.

CATHERINE TALBOT, the only daughter of Rev. Edward Talbot, Archdea con of Berks, was born in the year 1720. She early exhibited strong marks of a feeling heart, a warm imagination, and a powerful understanding. To these natural talents were added all the advantages of a thorough education founded on Christian principles. In 1741 she was introduced to the cele brated Miss Elizabeth Carter,' with whom she maintained the most close and intimate friendship to the close of her life. At what age she began to write for the public eye, does not appear; but it is certain that her talents and at tainments early introduced her into a valuable literary acquaintance, of which Archbishop Secker, and Dr. Butler, the author of the "Analogy," may be named. But great as were her talents, and brilliant as her accomplishments, she possessed qualities of infinitely more importance both to herself and so ciety. Her piety was deep and ardent: it was the spring of all her actions, as its rewards was the object of all her hopes. Her life, however, affords but little scope for narrative; passing on in a smooth, equable tenor, without dangers or adventures. But she was not of a strong constitution, and the disease to which she had long been subject—a cancer-at length made rapid strides upon her delicate frame, and she expired on the 9th of January, 1770.

The chief publications of Miss Talbot are, "Reflections on the Seven Days of the Week," which have passed through numerous editions, twenty. six "Essays," five "Dialogues," three "Prose Pastorals," a "Fairy Tale," three "Imitations of Ossian," two "Allegories," No. 30 of the "Rambler," and a few "Poems;" all of which may be read with great profit, as the production of one who possessed the most exquisite qualities both of the head and heart.2

A SENSE OF GOD'S PRESENCE.

Let me ask myself, as in the sight of God, what is the general turn of my temper, and disposition of my mind? My most trifling words and actions are observed by Him: and every thought is naked to His eye. Could I suppose the king, or any the greatest person I have any knowledge of, were within reach of observ ing my common daily behaviour, though unseen by me, should I not be very particularly careful to preserve it, in every respect, decent and becoming? Should I allow myself in any little fro ward humors? Should I not be ashamed to appear peevish and ill-natured? Should I use so much as one harsh or unhandsome expression even to my equal, or my meanest inferior, even were I ever so much provoked? Much less should I behave irreverently to my parents or superiors. This awful Being, in whom I live and move, and from whom no obscurity can hide me, by whom the very hairs of my head are all numbered, He knows the obligations of every relation in life. He sees in their full light the

1 This lady died in 1806, consequently beyond the period (1800) to which I have been obliged to restrict myself in the preparation of this work, in order to do any justice to our earlier writers. 2 Read-edition of her works, by Rev. M. Pennington;-a notice of her life in Drake's Essays, vol v, and some notices in Sir Egerton Brydges's "Censura Literaria."

reciprocal duties of parents and children, of husbands and wives, of neighbors and fellow-servants. He knows the aggravated guilt of every offence against these ties of society, however we may disposed to treat them as trifles: and every piece of stubbornness and pride, of ill-humour and passion, of anger and resentment, of sullenness and perverseness, exposes us to His just indignation.

Reflections on Sunday.

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SELF-EXAMINATION.

That I may be better in future, let me examine a little what temper I have been in the last twenty-four hours. In general, perhaps, I can recollect nothing much amiss in it: but let me descend to particulars. Things are often very faulty, that appear at first sight very trifling. Perhaps I have so fond a conceit of myself as to think that I can never be in the wrong. Has any uneasiness happened in the family this last day? Perhaps 1 think the fault was wholly in others, and the right entirely on my side. But ought I not to remember, that in all disputes, there is generally some fault on both sides? Perhaps they begun :-but did not I carry it on?-They gave the provocation:-but did not I take it?-Am not I too apt to imagine that it would be mean entirely to let a quarrel drop, when I have a fair opportunity to reason, and argue, and reproach, to vindicate my injured merit, and assert my right? Yet, is this agreeable to the precepts and example of Him," who, when he was reviled, reviled not again?" Is it agreeable to His commands, who has charged me, if my brother trespass against me, to forgive him, not seven times only, but seventy times seven? Is it agreeable to that Christian doctrine which exhorts us, not to think of ourselves highly, but soberly, as we ought to think: and that, in lowliness of mind, every one should think others better than himself? And alas, how often do I think this disrespect, though a slight one, provoking to me? This situation, though a happy one, not good enough for me? How often have I had in my mouth that wise maxim, that a worm, if it is trod upon, will turn again! Wretch that I am, shall Í plead the example of a vile worm of the earth for disobeying the commands of my Saviour, with whom I hope hereafter to sit in heavenly places?1

ALL CAN DO GOOD.

Reflections on Monday.

Every one of us may in something or other assist or instruct some of his fellow-creatures: for the best of human race is poor

1 It is proper to observe that this excellent illustration of these unchristian passions, though expressed in the first person, conveys no sort of idea of the mild and humble disposition of the writer her self.

and needy, and all have a mutual dependence on one another: there is nobody that cannot do some good: and everybody is bound to do diligently all the good they can. It is by no means enough to be rightly disposed, to be serious, and religious in our closets: we must be useful too, and take care, that as we all reap numberless benefits from society, society may be the better for every one of us. It is a false, a faulty, and an indolent humility, that makes people sit still and do nothing, because they will not believe that they are capable of doing much: for everybody can do something. Everybody can set a good example, be it to many or to few. Everybody can in some degree encourage virtue and religion, and discountenance vice and folly. Everybody has some one or other whom they can advise, or instruct, or in some way help to guide through life. Those who are too poor to give alms, can yet give their time, their trouble, their assistance in preparing or forwarding the gifts of others; in considering and representing distressed cases to those who can relieve them; in visiting and comforting the sick and afflicted. Everybody can offer up their prayers for those who need them: which, if they do reverently and sincerely, they will never be wanting in giving them every other assistance that it should please God to put in their power.

Reflections on Thursday,

IMPORTANCE OF TIME.

Another week is past; another of those little limited portions of time which number out my life. Let me stop a little here, before I enter upon a new one, and consider what this life is which is thus imperceptibly stealing away, and whither it is con ducting me? What is its end and aim, its good and its evil, its use and improvement? What place does it fill in the universe? What proportion does it bear to eternity?

Let me think, then, and think deeply, how I have employed this week past. Have I advanced in, or deviated from the path that leads to life? Has my time been improved or lost, or worse than lost, misspent? If the last, let me use double diligence to redeem it. Have I spent a due portion of my time in acts of devotion and piety, both private, public, and domestic? And have they been sincere, and free from all mixture of superstition, mo roseness, or weak scrupulosity? Have I, in society, been kind and helpful, mild, peaceable, and obliging? Have I been charitable, friendly, discreet? Have I had a due regard, without vanity or ostentation, to set a good example? Have I been equally ready to give and receive instruction, and proper advice? Careful to give no offence, and patient to take every thing in good part? Have I been honest, upright, and disinterested? Have I, in my way, and according to my station and calling, been diligent, fru

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