became the scenes of the moft horrible outrages against humanity. Multitudes had already perished by the murderous commiffion of Orange, and multitudes in the gloom of prifons awaited the fame fate, when the fall of Robespierre stopped the torrent of human blood.

Amid the mass of far-spread evil, amid the groans of general calamity, no doubt many a figh of private forrow has never reached the ear of fympathy, and many a victim has fallen unpitied and unknown. Some of the martyrs of Maignet's styranny have however found a 'fad hiftorian of the penfive plain;' and the fate of Monf. de M's family, which I have heard related much in detail by an old female fervant who was the companion of their misfortunes, is not the leaft affecting of thofe tales of forrow.

M. de M- formerly a noble, lived with his son, an only child, at Marseilles, where he was generally refpected, and where, during the progrefs of the revolution, he had acted the part of a firm and enlightened patriot. After the fatal events of the 31st of May, he became suspected of what was called federalism by the jacobin party, which ufurped the power in that city, and punished with imprisonment or death all thofe who had honourably protested against the tyranny of the mountain faction. M. Mwas warned of the danger by a friend, time enough to fly from the city, accompanied only by an old female fervant, who entreated to fhare the fortune of her mafter. His wife died fome years before the revolution; and his fon, an amiable, an accomplished young man, of twenty-four years of age, had, a few weeks before his father's flight, been called upon by the first requifition, and had joined the army of the Pyrenees.

M. de M, after wandering as far as his infirmities would permit (for although only in his fixty-third year, his frame was much debilitated by a long course of ill health) took refuge in a folitary habitation, at a few leagues diftance from Ariquon, and one of the wildeft parts of that romantic country. The mountains feem to clofe the feene upon the traveller, till by a narrow cleft it again opens into a small valley, where this little hermitage, for fuch was the afpect of the dwelling, was placed. This unfrequented valley was rich with pafturage, and bounded by lofty hills, wooded cliffs, and in fome parts by large grotefque rocks with sharp peaks, that rofe above the foliage of hanging forefts. Not far

from this ruftic habitation, a clear torrent rolls with no fcanty ftream down a bold rock, into which its fall had worn grots and caverns, which were luxurioufly decorated with fhrubs for ever watered by the fpray. The torrent not falling from a very confiderable height, produced founds more foothing than noify, and, without having the power of exciting the fenfation of fublimity, awakened that of the pensive pleafing melancholy.

This fequeftrated valley, rich in the wild graces of nature, had escaped the decorations of French art, and no jets d'eaux, clipped trees, and alleys who have brothers,' deformed its folitary receffes. Far above, and at fome diftance, arofe the lofty mountain of Ventoux, covered with its eternal fnows; that mountain which Petrarch climbed, in spite of the fteep rocks that guard its afcent, and from the fummit of which he gazed upon the Alps; the boundary of his native country, and fighed; or caft his looks upon the waves of the Mediterraneam which bathe Marseilles, and dafh themfelves against Aignes-Mortes; while he faw the rapid Rhone flowing majeftically along the valley, and the clouds rolling beneath his feet.

Such was the scene where M. de M- fought for refuge, and where he fheltered himself from the rage of his ferocious perfecutors. He had, foon after, the anguish of hearing that his brother, who had a place in the administration of one of the fouthern departments, and who had taken an active part on the fide of the Gironde, had perifhed on the scaffold. M. de M found means to inform his fifter-in-law of the place of his retreat, to which he conjured her to haften with her daughter, and share the little property which he had rescued from the general wreck of his fortune. His old servant Marianne, who was the bearer of this meffage, returned, accompanied by his niece; her mother was no more: fhe had furvived only a few weeks the death of her husband. The interview between mademoiselle Adelaide de M- and her uncle produced thofe emotions of overwhelming forrow, that arise at the fight of objects which intereft our affections, after we have fuftained any deep calamity: in thofe moments, the past rufhes on the mind with uncontroulable vehemence; and mademoifelle de M, after having long embraced her uncle, with an agony that choked all utterance, at length pronoun

ced

ced, in the accents of defpair, the names of father and of mother.

M. de Mendeavoured to fupply to his unfortunate niece the place of the parents fhe had loft, and forgot his own evils in this attempt to foothe the affliction of this interefting mourner, who, at nineteen years of age, in all the bloom of beauty, was the prey of a deep and of a fettled melancholy. She had too much fenfibility not to feel his tender cares, and often reftrained her tears in his prefence, because they gave him pain. When thofe tears would no longer be fuppreffed, the wandered out alone, and, then feating herself on fome fragment of rock, loothed by the murmurs of the hollow winds and moaning waters, indulged her grief without controul. In one of thofe lonely rambles, facred to her forrows, the was awakened from melancholy mufing by the fudden appearance of her coufin, the fon of M. de M, who, after having repeatedly exposed his life during a long, and perilous campaign, in the fervice of his country, returned-to find his home deserted and his father an exile. Such were the rewards which the gallant defenders of liberty received from the hands of tyrants. The young man flew to his father's retreat, where the first object he saw was his lovely coufin, whom he had a few months before beheld in all the pride of youth ful beauty; her cheek flushed with the gay fuffufion of health, and her eye parkling with pleafure. That cheek was now covered with fixed palenefs, and that eye was now dimmed with tears; but Madem. de Mnever appeared to him fo interefting as in this moment.

Two young perfons, placed together in fuch peculiar circumftances, muft have hád hearts infenfible indeed, had they conceived no attachment for each other. The fon of M. de M, and Adelaide, who both poffeffed an uncommon fhare of fenfibility, foon felt, that while all beyond the narrow cleft which feparated ahe little valley from the reft of the world was mifery and diforder, whatever could give value to exiftence was to be found within its favage boundary, in that reciprocal affection which foothed the evils of the pait, and fhed a foft and cheering ray over the gloom of the future. The fcene in which they were placed was peculiarly calculated to cherish the illufions of paffion; not merely from difplaying thofe fimple and romantic beauties, the contemplation of which foftens while it elevates the affections-it had also that

local charm which endears to minds of tafte and fentiment spots which have been celebrated by the powers of genius. Petrarch, the tender, the immortal Petriarch, had trode thofe very valleys, had climbed those very rocks, had wandered in those very woods-and the two young perfons, who both understood Italian, when they read together the melodious ftrains of that divine poet, found themfelves tranfported into new regions, and forgot for a while that revolutionary government exifted. From those dreams, thofe delightful illufions, they were awakened by a letter, which a friend and fellow-foldier of young de M-conveyed to him, in which he conjured him to return immediately to the army, if he would fhun being claffed among the fulpected or the profcribed.

Young de M- confidered the defence of his country as a facred duty which he was bound to fulfil. He inftantly prepared to depart. Bid adieu to his father and Adelaide with tears wrung from a bleeding heart, and tore himfelf away with an effort, which it required the exertion of all his fortitude to fuftain. After having paffed the cleft which enclosed the valley, he again turned back to gaze once more on the fpot which contained all his treasure. Adelaide, after his departure, had no confolation but in the fad yet dear indulgence of tender recollections; in fhedding tears over the paths in which they had trod,-over the books they had read together. Alas, this unfortunate young lady had far other pangs to fuffer than the tender repinings of abfence from a beloved object! Some weeks after the departure of her lover, the departments of Vauclufe and the mouth of the Rhone were defolated by Maignet. Two preferibed victims of his tyranny, who were friends of M. de M, and knew the place of his retreat, fought for an afylum in his dwelling. M. de M received his fugitive friends with affectionate kindness. But a few days after their arrival their retreat was difcovered by the emiffaries of Maignet; the narrow pafs of the valley was guarded by foldiers; the houfe was encompaffed by a military force; and M. de M was fummoned to depart with the confpirators whom he had dared to harbour, in order to appear with them before the popular commiffion eftablished at Orange. This laft ftroke his unhappy niece had no power to fuftain. All the wounds of her foul were fuddenly and rudely torn open; and al

together

made.'

Young de M

paffed the night at the grave of Adelaide. Marianne followed him thither, and humbly entreated him to return to the houfe. He pointhand as if he wished her to depart, and ed to the new-laid earth, and waved his leave his mediations uninterrupted.

The next morning at break of day he entered the houfe, and called for Marianne, He thanked her for her care of Adelaide; he affured her of his everlasting gratitude. While he was speaking, his emotion choked his voice, and a fhower of tears, the first he had fhed fince the death of Adelaide, foothed his oppreffed heart. When he had recovered himself, he bade Marianne, farewell, and haftened out of the houfe, muttering in a low tone,This must be avenged. He told Marianne, that he was going to rejoin his battalion; but all inquiries after him have fince been fruitlefs: this unhappy young man has been heard of no more!

ODE FOR THE NEW YEAR. BY HENRY JA. PYE, ESQ. POET LAUREAT.

WHERE is immortal Virtue's

Th' unfading wreathe of true Renown,

Beft recompence by Heaven decreed

For all the cares that wait a Crown; If Industry, with anxious zeal, Still watchful o'er the Public Weal; If equal Juftice awful arm, Temper'd by Mercy's feraph charm, Are ineffectual to affuage Remorfeless Faction's happy rage ? But the fell Dæmons, urg'd by Hell's beheft,

Threaten, with frantic arm, the Royal Patriot's breaft!

Yet not, Imperial GEORGE, at thee
Was the rude bolt of Malice fped,
Ev'n Fiends that Crown with rev'-
rence fee,

Where Virtue confecrates th' anoint-
ed head-

No-at thy bofom's fondeft claim,
Thy Britain's peace, their fhafts they

aim;

Pale Envy, while o'er half the world War's bloody banners are unfurl'd,

Mhail,

And ye green leas of Tiviotdale-
Ye heathy moors, of auburn hue,
Your bleakeft landfcapes, ftretch'd
round,

Affume the tints of Fairy-ground,
And infancy revive anew.

The shadow of my native grove,
And wavy ftreaks of light, I love,
When brighteft glows the eye of day;
And fhelter'd from the fultry beam,
I meditate befide the stream,
Or, by the pebbled channel ftray.

Where little playful eddies wind,
The banks with filvery foam are lin'd,
Untainted as the mountain fnow;

And round the rock, incrufted white, The rippling waves in murmurs light, Complain to gales which whispering blow.

Thrice bleft the days I here have seen, When blythe I trac'd the margin green, With heart as light as heart could be;

And thought the time would ever laft, As gay and chearful as the past-Bleft days! which I no more shall fee.

Ye, o'er my mind, at Memory's hour, Come grateful as the noontide show'r, Unto the panting flocks which feed;

Among the red-brown tufts of heath, Along the winding primrose strath, And o'er the buck-bean flowered mead,

Your memory, innocent and sweet,
I will not wafte in vain regret;
For, tho' ye ne'er return again,

Your memory fhall my heart relieve, Whene'er this anxious breast shall grieve, And mitigate the sense of pain.

Yet ftill I love the rivulet's chime, Which marks the filent lapfe of time, That paffes to return no more;

While heedlefs mortals never dream, Its courfe is tranfient as the ftream, But never lingers on the shore.

When dreams around my infant head, Their fairy wings phantastic spread, Faint-pictur'd with the scenes of old,

Amid the groups, with glad furprise,
I faw my native groves arise,
And Tiviot's chryftal waters roll'd.

And when Religion rais'd my view
Beyond this concave's azure blue,
Where flowers of fairer luftre blow;
Where Eden's groves again fhall bloom,
Beyond the defart of the tomb,
And living ftreams for ever flow.

The groves of foft celestial dye,
Were fuch as oft had met mine eye,
Expanding green on Tiviot's fide;
The living ftream whofe pearly wave
In Fancy's eye appear'd to lave,
Refembled Tiviot's limpid tide.

Befide the twifted hazel-bufh

I love to fit, and hear the thrush, When nuts in infant clusters fpring; While, from a thousand mellow throats, High fwell the gently trembling notes, And ductile whiftling echoes ring!

But hufh your notes, for fure I hear Strange founds, which vibrate in mine

ear

The fongs I heard in time before:

Methinks a fpirit, whispering fweet, Does all their former tones repeatBut now they fink to rise no more.

And