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FOR SEPTEMBER, 1801.
PRESENTING A SENSITIVE PLANT
GO little plant, to Julia's gentle care,
What tho' her tender touch too often try'd,
Beneath so soft a hand when thou hast dy'd,
Go, little plant—in all thy beauty go,
Obey her mandate, droop, but not repine;
And thus obedient, thou shall quickly know
T. W. PORTSIA.
EMMA OF THE VALE.
HOW happy in my native bow'rs,
There, urg'd by innocence and love,
I told an am'rous tale,
Fair Emma of the vale.
Together oft we rang'd the dell,
And nature's beauties view'd;
And vows of love renew'd;
"Hope told a flatt'ring tale,"
For Emma of the Vale.
But now, alas! those days are gone,
For I my bow'rs have left,
And I'm of hope bereft.
Where noise and vice prevail,
With Emma of the Vale.
H. V. SELW YIt.
WE.ITTEN IN MARCH, DURING A STORM.
By Mr. William Hanbury.
WHAT tho' the stormy tempests dreadful roar. Sent by chill winter's unrelenting hand; What tho' the raging north, from shore to shore, Spreads desolation o'er the shrivell'd land.
Soon cease the wintry storms; and thou, fair spring,
Soon thy innumerable treasures bring,
The sun, who late his radiant face conceal'd,
For thee, sweet spring, his glories soon shall yield,
In ev'ry heart content and joy shall re:gn,
Whilst many a nymph and village hind shall sing,
As with light iooisteps swift they pace the plain, "All hail! thou queen of beauty, fragrant spring 1"
On the two recent Poems of the Farmer's Boy, and Matilda.
WHY does Britannia Thompson's loss deplore?
You, who in honest Giles* an interest take,
Read here, ye grave, and owrr with gcn'rous smiles,
FLOM.A AND THE BOY.
By a lady.
ABOY one morn into a garden stray'd, Which Flora had adorn'd with sweetest flow-'rs; Roses, azalias, lilies, pinks, display'd
Their various charms, their fascinating powr's: The little rogue delighted, view'd the rich parterre, And long'd to rifle every heauty there: But Flora, when she saw him thus dispos'd, Drew near, and wisely interpos'di She smiling said, " My liuie friend, To one alone your choice must beconrin'd;
Look round; select one to your mind,
He quickly laid his hand upon a rose,
There pine and fade, neglected and forlorn;
Who fair, like thee, shall blow without one thorn." He ran to pluck one from the clust'ring store, Each bow'r examin'd o'er and o'er, As vainly search'd the garde n round, Alas! no rose without a thorn was to be found. His heartbeat high with rising pride, That thus his wishes were deny'd i (For he had never felt controul;) At length a flood of tears reliev'd his swelling souk,
Flora, diverted at such childish grief, Yet willing to encourage him, approach'd again: « My son, (she said) your tcirs arc vain,
But take my counsel, you will find relief; Courage and perseverance never fail; First o'r the thorn* prevail, Each difficulty you will then remove, And gain the object of your love." To this, each little student may compare The hours of learning, often mixt with care; Yet while the road to knowledge is in view, With diligence its winding paths pursue; And should some briars on the way appear, Those will be conquer'd, if you persevere! And having well employ'd yonr youthful hours, Reap with advautage, time's most precious flow'rs.
READING THE IVORKS
William Cowper, Esq.
Unbrib'd, his judgement marks in letters clear,