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of his master was not duly under- fell on his knees to the king, bei stood; but since it was so abruptly seeching him that a herald might be rejected, he could do no less than say sent to the French ambassador from that the king knew well enough what him, bearing an accusation of falsity, to do.' De Luines arswered----We and a challenge for satisfaction ; but are not afraid of you.' Sir Edward, James, being of a quiet pacific dissmiling a little, replied, “If you had position, only made answer, “that he said you had not loved us I should would think of it.' De Luines died have believed you, and should have soon after, and sir Edward Herbert given you another answer; in the was again sent ambassador to France. mean time, all that I will tell you more is, that we know very well what we have to do.' De Luines, upon this, starting from his seat,
MARRIAGE SETTLEMENTS. said, “By G--, if you were not JOHN marquis of Tweedale, who monsieur l'ambassadeur I know very was the lastsecretary of state for Scota well how I would use you.' Sir land, before that place was annexed Edward, also rising from his chair, to the secretaryship for the home said, that as he was the king of department, espoused lady frances Great Britain's ambassador, so he Carteret, daughter of lord Carteret, was also a gentleman, and that his afterwards earl of Granville, several sword (on which he clapped his years lord lieutenant of Ireland, and hand) should give him instant satis once president of the English privy faction, if he was pleased to take council. any offence.' To this the Frenchman This marriage was preceded by made no reply ; and Sir Edward the following singular circumstance. walked towards the door, to which It happened that these two nobleDe Luines seeming to accompany men met together at Florence, when him, Sir Edward said that, after on their respective tours through such language there was no occasion Europe. L' rd Carterét was then a to use such ceremony ;' and so de- married man. One day being in tami. parted, expecting to hear further liar conversation with each other, from him.
lord Carteret took occasion to exa He had alterwards a gracious patiate on the comforts of matrie audience of the French king; aster mony, which he forcibly contrasted which a court lord telling him, that, with the joyless state of a bachelor. after having offended the consiable The marquis assented to the truth De Luines, he was not in a place of of his observations, but owned that safety, he gallantly answered, that he had never as yet seriously thought
he always considered himself in a of taking to himself a wife. Lord place of safety wherever his sword Carteret then told him, that though went with him.'
he had then no child, he bespoke The vindictive De Luines pro- him for a son-in-law. Whether he cured his brother with a train of offi- meant this declaration as jocular or cers (of whom there was not one, as o: herwise, certain it is that the first he told king James, that had not killed child his lady brought him after his his man) to go as ambassador exiraor return to England was the very dinary to England, who so misrepre- daughter whom the marquis mara sented the affair, shat sir Edward was ried about twenty years afterward. recalled; but on his return cleared up As the whole of lord Tweedale's real the affair to his honour. He however estate lay in Scotland, the marriage
articles. between him and his lady cretion. When he had cast his eyes were drawn up by his solicitor in on that clause he instantly drew his Edinburgh, under the inspection of pen across it, and wrote upon the his lawyers there. The rough draft opposite margin these words : Not of the deed was transmitted to Lon a shilling ! , I have seen enough of don, for the perusal of lord Gran the consequences of wives being inville. Among other usual clauses, dependent of their husbands ever to there was a stipulation for pin-mo consent to my daughter's having a ney to the lady during marriage, right to demand pin-money. Let and a blank left for the specific sum her depend upon her lord, as every to be filled up at his lordship's dis- wife ought to do.'
ODE for the NEW YEAR, 1507. To sweep th' injurious boasters from the
main, By H. J. PYE, Esq; P. L.
Who dare to circumscribe Britannia's naval
III. IV HEN loud and drear the tempests roar,
And see with emulative zeal When high the billowy mountains rise, Our hosts congenial ardour feel; And headlong 'gainst the rocky shore,
The ardent spirit that of yore Driven by the blast, the giddy vessel flies; Flam'd high on Gallia's vanquish'd Unguided, by the wild waves borne,
shore; Her rudder broke, her tackling torn;
Or burn'd lwy Danube's distant food, Say, does the seanian's daring mind
When Bow'd his current ring'd with Gal. Shrink from the angry frown of fate?
lic blood; Does he, to abject fear resign'd,
Or shone on Lincelics' later fight; Th’impending stroke in silence wait?
Or fir'd by Acre's tow'rs the Christian No-while he pours the fervent pray'r
Knight ; To Him whose svili can punish or can spare, Or taught on Maida's fields the Gaul to Cool and intrepid 'mid the sound
feel, Of winds and waves that rage around,
Urg'd by the Briton's arm, the British The pow'rs that skill and strength impart,
steel. The nervous arm, th' undaunted heart, Now in each breast with heat redoubled glows, Collecting,-firm he fronts the threat'ning And gleams dismay and death on Europe's storm,
Not to Ambition's specious charm,
Is conquest baund-a Mightier Arm Dismay'd do Britain's hardy train
Than Earth's proud Tyrants can withAwait in doubt the threat'ning hour?
stand, Lo! to his sons, with cheering voice,
The balance holds of human fate,
Raises the low and sinks the great.
Exerting then in Europe's cause
Each energy of arm and mind, From ev'ry port astonish'd Europe sees All that from force or skill the warrior Britannia's white sails swelling with the
Yet to th' Almighty Pow'r resign'd, Not her imperial barks alone
Whose high behest ali nature's movements Awe the proud toe on ev'ry side,
guides, Commerce her vessels launches on the side, Controls the battle's and the ocean's cides; And her indignant sons awhile
Britain still hopes that Heav'n her vows will Seceding from their wonted toil,
hear, Turn from the arts of peace their care, While Mercy rears her shield and Justice Hurl from each deck the bulls of war,
points her spear.
Where Nature's pencil lights her brighrest
And all Brazilia flames before our eyes. DR. THORNTON,
'Though o'er her head the southern whirl In the Completion of his Temple of Flora, or Secure, beheld! superb Strelitzia ware; Garden of Nature
While amidst barren rocks and arctic snons
Fair Kalmia in refulgent beauty glows: OH! Bards of Athens! for your classic
Lo! Cereus, faithful to th' appointed house rage,
With glory's beams illumes the midnight Or Rubens' fire, to warm the kindling page;
hour; Then like those vivid tints my Song should
Ah Geeting b ams! ere Phobus darts its rays glow,
Wither'd thy beauty, and extinct its blaze! And THORNTON's praise in noblest num
N. so yon 51!0e, on whose tow'ring hend bers flow;
An hundre' years their fost'ring ders have Fervent as bis should roll the breathing line, The radiant colouring, and the rich designi.
Not so che Gleries that these leaves illume, From orient regions where the tropic rey Whosc splendid tints for centuries shall Lights beauty's beams, and pours the giowing
Fain would the MU SE each beautepus Plant To where th' eternal shows of zvinter spread,
rehearse, And ice-clad mountains rear their lotty head, And sing their glories in immortal verse; Tby daring hand hath culld the loveliest
But who shall paint them with a pow'r like flow'rs
thine, To deck delighted Albion's happier bow'rs;
'Tis in thy page those glories brightest shine! On each proud page in varied radiance bright, The Muse exalting feasts her raptur’d sight; And in such dazzling groups they charm tbe
So lovely in their form, so bright their hue, For ever fresh those flow'rs; for ever fair!
view! The rage of Envy and of Time shall dare.
The Muse astonish'd drops her feeble lyre, Around thy couch their branching cendrils
And balled Art gives way to Nature's fire;And cast their fragrant shadows o'er iky And imitation's noblest efforts spurns.
That fire is thine in every leaf it bumus, grave.
Tbe mighty Work complete, through ALBIBeneath the Pleiads, taught by ther to
ON's bounds bloom,
Thy name is echoed, and the fame resounds; While Fancy fondly drinks their rich per- Exulting Science weaves the deathless bays, fume,
And rival Monarchs swell the note of Praisa A second PARADISE our senses greets,
ADDRESS TO A ROBIN,
On bearing it sing, October 30, 1805.
ROBIN, thy soft autumnal song Where round the Cape loud howls th' inces
How grateful to mine eir!
Domestic bird, 'tis kind of the sant storm; Or Genius waving high her magic wand,
To cheer with rural minstrelsy Bids all Arabia's purple blooms expand;
The dull declining year. Or pours the Ganges thro' the wide-spread Mute is the lark, that soar'd aloft plain,
To hail the blushing dawn.
Perch'd on a dew-impealled bush,
Why, rosy-breasted minstrel, why
Alcune the merry strain?
In snow:y vest will soon appear,
With all his rueiul train,
The thought would marthy present jy, And crests that blaze with azure and with Mix with thy bliss a base alloy, gold:
And cloud thy cheerful day.
Oft fretful man with sad presage
Into the future pries:
JOHN WEBB. Haverbill, Nov. 4, 1806.
ADDRESS TO A BUTTERFLY. HAIL, loveliest of the insect tribe!
How beauteous to behold!
And edg'd with beany gold.
In summer's frolic hour;
And gad from flower to flower.
Far from my garden stray, Lest my Horatio should espy Thy gilded form with wishful eye,
And mark thee for his prey.
Be every gambol play'd;
To dark oblivion's shade.
Consumes life's golden space; Thoughtless he hastes from fair to fair, Till Death approach, with brow austere,
And ends his useless race. Haverhill,
I mark'd the faint roses her features forsaking, And convulsively caught at her bosom's
Jast sigh; I mournfully view'd, with a sorrow heart
breaking, The last spark of lustre that bcam'd in her
eye. O'er her pale trembling lips while with wild
horror stooping, To catch, thought distracting! my Ellen's
last breath, She smild then alas! like a fair lily droopa
ing, Serenely she sunk on the bosom of death. Buist, burst beating heart,--for tranquillity Shall cheer thy sad cell, or its throbbings
reprove : O why was atfliction permitted to sever Such souls, and to rob me of Ellen and
love! When the dark gloomy shadows of eve are
descending, Each niglie to her cold silent urn I'll repair; While the winds that howl round me, my sado
ness befriending, May kindly re-echo these notes of despair. There there on her grass-cover'd grave will
I languish, 'Till in death a repose to my sorrows be
given; Then the heart that now flutters, forgetting
its anguish, Shall fiy to the arms of my Ellen in heaven. Nov. 11, 1800.
LINES Mournfully inscribed to the Memory of Miss
E. M. C. WHAT happiness once did the moments
soft pleasures Each day as they pass'd to my bosom im
part; I smil'd as I gaz'd on the world and its :rea
sures, For it held all I valued--the girl of my
beart. She lov'd:-) ador'd her-and gaily I cherishid
A dream of felicity form'd to beguile; But soon this fond bosoin's felicity perishd, That doated alone on her love and her
smile. For whilst we the visions of lope were en
joying, And her hand as a pledge of affection she
gave; Affliction, unkindly those visions destroying, Assail'd her, and nothing could sescue or
LINES Addressed by Count O, a Polish Emigrant,
to his infant Son, while sleeping.
(FROM THE FRENCI.)
Thou tender pledge of Jove sincere!
And now their only solace here!
earth Than those, alás! have known, who gave thy
That muntle on thy ruby cheek,
Thy soul's serenity bespeak.
ing; No sad inquietude thy bliss beguiles, For happy are thy days, and ev'ry moment
Verer down thy cherub face,
Pleas'd have I oft our little babe citessd,
And view'd him smiling at his mother's The crystal drops each other chase,
breast; And dim thy laughing eyes with tears; But now too well is known the absent joram Thy mother then with folding arms, By death depriv'd, we've lost our lovely boy, As to her lips thy cheek she presses,
Sveet infant-cause of many a painful tea, Will quickly luil thy wild alarms, Though yet thy age extended not a year,
And dry thy tears in her caresses: Can we forget thy fond endearing look, Thy little heart may ev'ry ill deride Or what in play thy tender fingers took? When to her bosom clasp’d, or cradled by her
O no! each thiaz reminds us now with pain; side.
Our darling's gone, and all our hopes are yair,
No more each parent sees thy sportive ways; As yet thou hast not learnt to share,
No more, alas! thy little toys can please; When told thy hapless parents' tale,
All, all on earth does our poor infant leave With them their ills, or with a tear
Consign'd is Peter to the silent grave!
But yet, dear boy, ruit) innocence shall rise
Thy infant spirit to its native skies.
Oct. 3, 15uo.
EDWY. Thy infant memory, to bla:c
The sweetness of hy dawning mind; No dread of future storms thy breast an
DESCRIPTION OF A GOOD WIFE, noys, Or with envenom'd sting its happiness de
From Proverbs, ch. 31, v. 10. stroys.
MORE precious far than rubies, who can Sleep, smiling innocence ! secure;
find May Heav'n's sustaining arm be near,
A svife embellished with a virtuous mind? And aid thee calmly to endure The evils which await thee here!
In her securely, as his better part, O may thy heart a conscious peace acquire,
Her happy husband cheerful rests his heart And, happy in itself, no other bliss desire.
With such a lovely partner of his toil Sept.20, 1506.
His goods increase without the need of spoil.
Well pleas'd she labours, nar disdains to culi
Rich as the merchant's ships that crowd the
strands, WHEN first, sweet girl! you touch'd the
She reaps the harvest of remotest lands. trembling sering,
Early she rises, ere bright Phæbus shines, I heard with rapture the larmonious lay; And to her damsels sep'rate tasks assigns. But when you join'd your gentle voice to sing, Refresh'd with food, her hinds reneir their Enchanted quite, my soul dissolv'd away.
toil, Who could such harmony unmoved hear? And cheerful haste to cultivate the soil.
The force divine of such melodious strains If to her farm some field contiguous lies, Would banish grief, suppress the starting tear,
With care she views it, and with prudence And sweetly charm away the fiercest pains.
And with the gains which Heaven to wisdom Ten thousand beauties p'ay upon your cheeks,
grants, Your lovely eyes dirt forth seraphic fire;
A vineyard of delicious grapes she plants While each kind glance, more sweet than
Inur'd to toiis, she strength and sweetness tongue can speak,
joinsFills ev'ry bosom with a soft desire.
Strength is the graceful girdle of her loins. How in sweet slav'ry could I spend my days With joy her goodly merchandise she views, With you, my soul's ador'd! and when I And oft till morn her pleasing work pursues. prove
The swindle twirls obedient to her tread; The ills of life, your charms and warbling lays Round roils the wheel, and spins the ductile Should fill my soul with harmony and love.
She feeds the hungry and relieves the poor.
Nor frost ner snow her family molest,
For all her household are in scarlet dress'd:
Resplendent rabes are by her husband wome To the Memory of the infant Son of Mr.
Her limbs tine purple and rich silks adorn. EATON, apotbecary and surgeon-dentist, late
For wisdom fam'd, for probity renown'd, of Highgai.
She sits in council with bright honour crown'd. WHAT trouble does this chequer'd life To weave rich girdles is her softer care, prepare!
Which merchants buy, and mighty monarchs A child is gone, each parent's tender care.