fulness, and he said, So you are in Parliament, eh? and to any secretary or book-keeper, who is employed I have a seat there too-Don't often go, however- to write or to keep accounts for another. In these Perhaps may see you there-Good bye-good bye.' latter acceptations it ought never to be used in adYe'll excuse my freedom, sir,' said Andrew,dition to a signature, as in that connexion it is the somewhat rebuked by the air and manner in which appropriate designation of a clergyman. Through inhis new acquaintance separated from him; but if attention to this distinction, blunders have sometimes you are not better engaged, I would be glad if we been made which were calculated to mislead. An could breakfast together.' example of this occurred within my own observation a few years ago. An address to his Majesty was handed me for my signature. On glancing over a few of the names which had already been signed, I was surprised to find, as I supposed, such a number of the clergy, and began to wonder how so many could be found in the district from whence the address proceeded. But on farther examination, my supposed clergymen proved to be clerks or book-keepers in a neighbouring manufactory. Can't, can't,' replied the old gentleman, shortly, as he walked away; but turning half round after he had walked two or three paces, he added, Obliged to breakfast with the King-he won't without me ;' and a loud and mirthful laugh gave notice to all the surrounding echoes that a light and pleased spirit claimed their blithest responses. There was not much in this conversation that satisfied our hero; who perceived that it was no easy matter to gain the sort of knowledge which he had come on purpose to procure; and in the irksome humour which this reflection produced, he consumed the morning, loitering in the Park and about the Castle, till his usual breakfast hour, when he returned to the inn. "During breakfast in the coffee-room, Andrew learned from some of the other strangers, who were similarly employed, that the best opportunity of seeing the Royal Family was when they went and came from church; for it was not always certain that they would walk on the Terrace in the evening. TO THE EDITOR. V. D. M. SIR, It is certainly somewhat singular, that, in the first town in the British Empire, no literary miscellany of a similar description to the Iris, has been established, whilst Liverpool, and many other towns of less importance, have long enjoyed their weekly feasts of native literature. To what can this be attributed? Surely | to shew the world that the charge is unfounded, and teach your calumniators to respect and acknowledge your talents. Surely then, my fellow-townsmen, will not delay doing so; but make your miscellany the vehicle of manifesting their claim to literary reputation. To one part of my fellow-townsinen, I wish particularly to appeal, on the present occasion. I mean to the junior literary society, as being a society instituted for the promotion and encouragement of literary pursuits; upon them every work which has for its objects the improvement of the fine arts, in their town, or the amusements of its inhabitants, by scientific and literary recreations, has in my opinion a strong claim for support. A claim, I trust, which they will not neglect, but evince their acknowledgment of it, by producing many original criticisms, essays, and remarks, for the benefit of your paper. Though not a member of that society, yet am I sufficiently acquainted with some of them, to feel convinced that the inclination alone must be wanting, if the Iris is not considerably benefited being thus introduced to public notice, I know not: by them. Whether they may be displeased, by if they are, the only apology I can make is, that, being confident of their ability, I thought myself justified in calling on them to support the cause of native genius, as well by their public as private productions. At the reading of some of these, before their society, I have been present, as a stranger, and felt myself not But,' said he, how am I to know the King? taking, or to a want of encouragement in my fellow-only considerably pleased, but instructed by their con for I dinna suppose that his arms are like twa wild beasts, the lion and the unicorn. However, I'll avail mysel of your counselling, and tak my stance as ye advise, at the Royal entrance to St. George's Chapel.' Accordingly, at the proper time he was at the place; but the moment that the carriage with their Majesties drew up, he saw the old gentleman whom he had met in the Park alone with the Queen. His heart sank within him at the sight, and he fled abashed and confounded; for he discovered that it was the King himself, and he shrunk with alarm at the liberties he had taken. The terrors of this idea, however, abated as he returned to London; and when he recalled to recollection all that had passed, he was satisfied his Majesty was not likely to be displeased with him. By the time he reached home, he could, indeed, scarcely refrain from smiling at the adventure, when he thought how completely he had succeeded in the object of his excursion, at the very time when he was despairing of any success.' CORRESPONDENCE. TO THE EDITOR. SIR,-Antoninus desires to know the meaning of "V. D. M." annexed to a person's name. These letters are the initials of Verbi Dei Minister, Minister of the Word of God. They were formerly in general use as part of the official signature of dissenting ministers, but an abbreviation of the word Minister is now for the most part substituted in their stead. They are an unnecessary addition to a name when the designation "Reverend" is prefixed; and The Rev. V. D. M." is as tautological an expression as "Mr. Jeremy Jonas, M. A." Antoninus' query suggested the following remarks on the application of the word CLERK. " We often find that words change their signification in a course of years, and come to be used in a sense very remote from that which their etymology indicates. The word Clerk may serve for an illustration. It is derived from a Greek work, which signifies heritage, and was originally used to designate a clergyman, and from hence, any learned man, because the clergy were supposed to be the peculiar heritage or property of God. In this sense, however, it is now nearly obsolete, except when annexed to the official signature of a minister of the established church. In its common acceptation it is applied to the person who leads the responses of the congregation in church, not to a deficiency of talent or ability for the undertownsmen. That it does not arise from any contempt of literary pursuits, or apathy in the attainment of knowledge, is, I think, sufficiently evident, from the eagerness for reading displayed by them; from the numerous libraries they support; and from the productions of their literary and philosophical society. I have, however, heard it asserted, that our minds are so absorbed in the arithmetical rule of profit and loss, as to incapacitate them for the production of any composition more refined than a bill of parcel, or more elaborate than a mercantile correspondence; but this is a charge which can scarcely stand in need of refutation, or deserves a moment's serious consideration. Opportunity alone is necessary, to convince the world, that, in talent or genius, they do not fall short of any of their countrymen; that opportunity you have afforded them by your present publication; and, I trust, it is one which they will eagerly embrace. Approving of your attempt, I cannot but wish it every success; and though a complete novice myself, in the art of composition, yet, I feel confident, that there are talents lying hid amongst us, which need only to be elicited in order to be duly appreciated: there are who can wield the pen in the field of literature, as in the ponderous leaves of a ledger, or the verbose drafts of a lawyer. It becomes such gentlemen to render your paper every assistance, in the pleasing object of affording instruction and amusement to others; and not, like the unprofitable servant, let their talent lie concealed and useless: for the due application of every talent with which he is entrusted, man is an accountable agent, and to what better use can human attainments, in science or knowledge, be applied, than to the improvement or innocent entertainment, of our fellow-creatures. Though of myself, incapable of adding either to the one or the other, yet I have stepped forward to appeal to the candour and liberality of my townsmen; and to call upon those who are competent, to afford you their assistance in the arduous task you have undertaken. Your's I consider as a public cause, in which we are all interested, and as, therefore, being entitled to our warmest support and encouragement. By your paper, will, in general, be estimated the extent of our attainments, and the force of our genius. Mine is a public appeal for the credit and reputation of the town, to rescue it from reflections which I conceive have been unjustly cast upon it, as being devoid of talent or literary merit, and not made from any private motive. Let us convince the insidious slanderers, that there is neither want of genius, nor spirit, to display it. Do not, therefore, by our silence let us give ground to the imputations, when means are offered us of refuting them. It is only necessary for you to step forward, tents, and then thought, that their publication, in some periodical work, would have a good tendency; more especially so, as I understand they restrict themselves Should they be induced in consequence of my hints, from entering into religious or political controversy. to offer any of their productions to your attention, I patronage, and I shall conceive myself to have done doubt not that you will find them well worthy of your some good by exciting their notice. MANCUNIENSIS. THE DRAMA. MANCHESTER DRAMATIC REGISTER. Monday, Feb. 18th-King Henry IV: Falstaff, Mr. Dowton; with the Warlock of the Glen. Tuesday, 19th.-Speed the Plough; with The Jew and the Doctor: Farmer Ashfield and Abednego, Mr. Dowton. Thursday 21st.—The Jew; with Turn Out: Sheva and Restive, Mr. Dowton. Friday, 22nd.-Road to Ruin; The Village Lawyer; and Barnaby Brittle: Old Dornton, Scout, and Brittle, Mr. Dowton. TO CORRESPONDENTS. PATRIARCHAL CHRONOLOGY is deferred for want of room. The favour of R. B. G. is received, and shall appear in our next. Zeno, on Poverty;-M-s, on Eloquence ;-Lapis, on Volcanoes;-The Lines by J. R.;-The Ode, by P. W. H.;Pythias, on Lent;-M. A. B.;-Kenilworth Castle: T. V.;-A. W. G.;-and many others shall have our early attention. A. ALLDRENCH is requested to again glance over the papers of his deceased friend, and to favour us with something more interesting than RONALD. We have this week received numerous Communications relative to Miss C. Fisher, which, as they would occupy too much of our Miscellany, we decline inserting. Letter-Box in the Door. Manchester: Printed, Published, and Sold, BY HENRY SMITH AND BROTHERS. Oldham, Mr. Lambert. REVIEW OF NEW BOOKS. THE MARTYR OF ANTIOCH: a Dramatic Professor of Poetry in the University of Mr. Milman has attained a very elevated rank among the English Poets. He has undoubtedly a great genius, of which his works display most of the characteristick excellencies, not unmingled with some of its faults. The latter may generally be traced to an exuberance of imagination which dilates his sentiments, and vents itself in a prodigality of language. This sort of extravagance is more remarkable in his early productions; yet, even now, it is frequently to be observed, and exceedingly enervates the vigour of his poetry. The peculiarity becomes more conspicuous from the circumstance that several of our eminent and popular writers have a habit of condensing and compressing their ideas, in such a manner, as often by a single stroke to produce a wonderful association of images, and call up a vast train of emotions in the mind. The artfulness of this way is very apparent, and its pleasing effects on the reader, are, vya mtand, unwy sentiments thus generated do not seem the natural suggestions of the poet, but, having an obvious origin in the reader's mind, he is led to regard them somewhat in the light of his own reflections and commentaries on the text. A two-fold gratification is thus operated within him-one which arises from the author who has awakened these emotions, another which has its spring in himself, as being the source of the pleasures they have excited. Mr. Milman either despises or is ignorant of the advantage of thus leaving some circumstances for the imagination of his readers to supply-and he does not administer to their vanity by allowing them to think that they have improved the conceptions of the poet. He rather delights in shewing how far his own excursive fancy can transport him, and he is sometimes borne upon its wing into regions inexplorable by less aspiring spirits. - Mr. Milman has another fault, attributable to the same excess of imagination. His characters have generally not sufficient identity, or rather the sentiments have not the marked applicability which is especially necessary in dramatick poetry. There are commonly some poetick illustrations which do not altogether assimilate to our ideas of the characters which employ them. This is no trivial blemish; it will always sensibly diminish the excellence of the poem, though it may add strikingly to the beauty of the poetry. Notwithstanding these and some other, slighter, imperfections, Mr. Milman is an admirable poet; he has all the qualities which are requisite to form one. Every thing which he has written attests him to be so; the Apollo Belvidere, Judicium Regale, Fazio, Samor, the Fall of Jerusalem, and the work which we have now before us are, all, splendid evidences of genius and powers of no common order. For lofty and impassioned eloquence, animated and SATURDAY, MARCH 2, 1822. glowing description, simple and affecting tenderness, we may place him with the first poets of the day. While he may claim the praise, which many of them cannot pretend to, of being eminently moral and religious. there are few writers who could have invested it with The story of the Martyr of Antioch is barren, and interest, sufficient for a poem of a hundred lines. A Priestess of Apollo, converted to Christianity, is condemned by her. Pagan lover, the Roman Prefect, to suffer death for her crime. Mr. Milman has interwoven some adventitious circumstances with considerable judgement, but the whole does only constitute a scanty and an imperfect subject. The scene is at Antioch in the reign of the Emperor Probus. The poem opens, after a hecatomb in honour of Apollo, with a hymn to the same Deity. The solemn rites are duly paid' save that Margarita Priestess, and daughter of the High Priest Callias, is not present. A messenger is sent into the temple to summon her; but she is not there, and the sacred vestments are found dishonourably scattered on the pavement. Her father suspects the Prefect Olybius of being privy to her absence, knowing that she is beloved by him. At this crisis an Embassador arrives from Rome of the Christians, and shortly after Emperor's mandate for the Margarita herself appears, and hears the sentence of denunciation against the followers of Christ. WEEKLY. PRICE 34d. My pearl! my pride! thou knowest my soul is thine Thine only! on the Parthians' fiery sands I look'd upon the blazing noontide sun, Rais'd garlands, every voice dwelt on my name, MARGARITA. Oh! let me onward, Nor hold me thus, nor speak thus fondly to me. OLYBIUS. Thou strivest still to leave me; go then, go, She arrives at the burial place of the Christians where they have just terminated the obsequies of a brother by a funeral anthem of exquisite pathos. She communicates her sad tidings. FABIUS (Bishop of Antioch). Is it so, my child? Makes the fierce heathen bloody preparation For slaughter-then must we for death. His zeal Doth furbish up his armoury of murder; We, ours of patience. We must gird around as Heaven's panoply of faith and constancy, And so go forth to war. Charinus and Calanthias express their triumph, at the awful testimony of their hopes which is awaiting them, with some degree of presumption Fabius checks them. Cease, Calanthias, cease, And thou Charinus. Oh, my brethren, God Ring with a wild confusion of strange sounds MARGARITA. By Jesus Christ--by Him In whom my soul hath hope of immortality, Father! I mock not. CALLIAS. -Lightnings blast-not thee, Look there!- MARGARITA. I see a silent shape of stone, CALLIAS. Ha! look again, then, Mark how the purple clouds Holds his calm way, and vindicates for his own What means thy proud andazzled look, to adore MARGARITA. On yon burning orb I gaze and say,-Thou mightiest work of Him To hang thy everlasting nuptial lamp To thee was given to quicken slumbering nature, This part concludes with a hymn, by Margarita, to the Saviour, from which we can only afford three stanzas. Thy birthright in the world was pain and grief, In peace, tongue cannot tell, They bound thy temples with the twisted thorn, Low bow'd thy head convulsed, and droop'd in Thy voice sent forth a sad and wailing cry; : We are unable to do justice to this work in the FOR THE IRIS. AN ESSAY ON THE FUNDAMENTAL OR STYLE was divided by the ancients into three great classes, the sublime, the simple, and the intermediate. The small number of these classes necessarily occasioned a very great diversity among the authors who composed each class. Such a classification, therefore, tended rather to increase than to lessen the difficulty of assigning to each author his exact share of literary merit. In modern times, however, this subject has been treated on principles more philosophical. It is found that every author has a style peculiar to himself, and, of styles which are so very different, every classification must be incomplete. An author, therefore, is not now estimated by the place which he holds in any one class ;he is taken by himself, and his own excellencies, and his own defects are pointed out. But, although it is impossible to give any specific rules for that construction of sentences which is adapted to any one subject, it does not, therefore, follow, that style is unworthy of philosophical enquiry. The great cause of the difference in the style of authors, is, the difference of their minds; and the philosophy of the human mind is universally allowed to be an interesting subject. Its principles may be most usefully applied to the investigation of the fundamental or primary causes of the diversity of style. The causes which I am now to assign, may be called fundamental or primary, because they have always possessed much influence, and because to them the influence of every other cause may be traced. I. The first which I would assign is difference of age. The passions of a young writer being strong, he will enter with keenness into his subject. The interest which he feels in what he asserts will appear conspicuous. Not content with general terms, he will descend to particular circumstances, and explain As he advances in life this tendency to diffuseness meets no more words than he finds absolutely necessary to While strength of feeling, then, and fondness of ornament characterize the young writer; and while the middle-aged is distinguished by his moderate use of ornament, by his command over his feelings, and by the vigour of his mind; we may know an aged author from a decay of sensibility and of mental vigour. Such are the effects which difference of age produces in the style of authors. These effects are not universal, but the exceptions are few. In speaking, indeed, of the primary causes of the diversity of style, it must not be understood that one of these operates on one person, and one on another. All have some influence on every author, and the influence of each is so far counteracted by that of every other. II. I proceed, therefore, to mention as a second cause of the diversity of style, the difference of original constitution. It has been mentioned above, that a radical cause of the diversity of style lies in the minds of the No two minds are constituted perfectly authors. alike, therefore no two minds can perfectly resemble each other in their productions. In all the powers of the mind men differ much. The mind of one man is penetrating, while that of another is slow of discernment. The penetrating mind is fitted for abstruse subjects, and when direct-ed to those which are common searches them to the bottom. He that possesses such a mind is able to contemplate his subject as a whole, to examine it minutely, and estimate the intrinsic and relative value of each part. From a truth which is simple and easy, he can draw others which are very complex and very remote. The author's penetration must shew itself in the work. Having a correct idea of the whole subject, and understanding perfectly its different parts, he will express himself with clearness. Every idea will be expressed in definite language, and the connexion of the whole will be apparent. On the other hand, he that is slow in discernment is fitted for those subjects only, which are more ordinary, and even these he is not able fully to comprehend. Being under the necessity of examining the different parts in succession, his idea of the whole is vague. It appears to him, indeed, not as a whole, but as consisting of so many different parts, between which there subsists no very strong connexion. The language of such an author will be like his ideas, indefinite and obscure. But, even in the writings of those whose powers are extraordinary, obscurity is sometimes to be found. This obscurity occurs chiefly in their abstract reasonings, and is owing, not to a want of precision in their language, but, to the rapidity of their transitions. Many ideas pass through their minds, but it costs them so little trouble to see their connexion, that a great number escape their memory, and those only which are most striking are to be found in their writings. It is for the want of these intermediate ideas, which passed through the author's mind, that the connexion between the premises and the conclusion does not appear sufficiently obvious. Others differ likewise in imagination. The use of imagination is not confined to the composition of the epos, nor even to poetry. For every species of writing, inventive powers are required. He that is deficient in those powers is so far restrained from bringing to his illustration those ideas which do not bear directly on the point, but which have a very powerful effect in keeping up the attention of the reader. Imagination goes out in quest of the most lenging ohionts in wate to her assistance, renders those subjects attractive, which would otherwise be very unpleasing. When the ideas more closely connected with the subject, and those brought for its illustration, are placed together, and shown to be analogous, the reader fancies that they have some connexion. He finds himself in a pleasant country, and continues his journey with pleasure. Without imagination, the utmost correctness and precision will often be of no avail. They may force our conviction that the sentiments are just, but they will not engage our interest. A plain discussion of a subject, in itself uninteresting, will inevitably become wearisome. On the other hand, the most uninteresting subject will gain readers, when it is rendered attractive by pleasing allusions. By enriching the sentiment, the author must enrich his style; for ideas when they get new forms must likewise get new names, and their combinations must also be affected by the analogous ideas which imagination brings. Again, others differ in sensibility. We have already found, that the sensibility of every man differs with his age; but men even of the same age differ much in sensibility. This difference will produce effects in the style, somewhat similar to those which we find produced by difference of age. One man is so constituted that he is able to consider coolly every subject which comes before him. Though it exercises his judgement, it has no effect upon his feelings. That coolness is communicated to his work. He addresses himself not to the feelings, but to the judgement of the reader. Without any attention to ornament, he studies only to make himself understood. If his style therefore rises to plainness it goes no farther. Another man differently constituted enters with keenness into every subject. Not only his judgement, THE MANCHESTER IRIS. but his feelings are engaged. He speaks and writes III. Another cause of this diversity, is the differ- Although the cultivation of any one faculty tends to The previous cultivation of the mind affects style, ir proper place they will appear incongruous; and, if to suit their situation another form is given them, the transitions must be clumsy. But when the subject has been studied by a cultivated mind, the different parts of the work are adjusted, the train of thought is determinate, and one idea follows another in natural order. The cultivation of the mind tends also to assist in the choice of words. It is impossible for any man to study successfully, without affixing to the words which he employs, a precise meaning; and that meaning which he has affixed to them in his studies, they will bear in his discussions. Precision of language, however, marks not only that the author understands his subject. It is by a correct manner of using words that we discover a cultivated mind. The difference of constitution affects our ideas on every subject, and according to the peculiar ideas of the author will be the peculiar meaning which he attaches to words. An untutored mind is therefore likely to use words in a sense somewhat different from their ordinary one. It is from the man of a cultivated mind, who has studied carefully the ideas and language of others, that we may expect words used with correctness. It is in his writings that we are to look for a discrimination of the nice shades of meaning which different words are calculated to convey. to possess copiousness of expression. It is evident, therefore, that the degree of ease, accuracy, and copiousness of language, possessed by any writer, must depend much on that state of mental cultivation to which he has attained. IV. A fourth cause of the diversity of style is a difference in the genius of languages. One tongue is scanty, another copious, another dry, and another figurative. This difference arises from the particular genius of the people. On this genius,-this cast of the mind, which distinguishes the inhabitants of one country from those of another, every one of the inhabitants must in some measure participate. The genius of the language, therefore, operate on every author in determining his choice of and the cause of it-the genius of the people, must words, his use of figures, and the cast of his sentences. On this, however, it is not necessary to insist long, since it is a difference not of individuals but of nations. It divides authors into classes, but a great difference among the individuals who compose each class is occasioned by other causes of the diversity of style, some of which have been already enumerated. V. I proceed to mention as a fifth cause of this diversity, the difference of the subject treated. He that enters into the discussion of any one subject, ranks himself under a particular class of authors. His subject has already been discussed, and discussed in a certain way. From this way he cannot entirely cannot always differ in opinion. Nay, though his depart, because from those who preceded him he and to support them, much in the same way as they opinions be different, he is likely to treat, to illustrate, have done theirs. His style will therefore be somewhat affected by their manner. If his Independently, however, of this, there are principles ference of style. This difference may proceed from in which a difference of subject must produce a difthe particular light in which the subject is viewed, and must proceed from the difference of the effect which the discussion of it is intended to produce. If the writer's object be conviction, he will study plainness of language, and sloseness of argument. abject is only to please, he will pay particular attention to the opinions and prejudices of those for whom If he means to astonish, he will scrupuhe writes. If again, he intends to move lously avoid that easy carelessness of manner, which is fitted for treating common subjects, and for relating common incidents. are in a greater or less degree affected will occupy any of the passions, the circumstances by which they his attention, and his style will be suited to the tone of his feelings. These effects, produced on the style by the nature of the subject, will be proportioned to the attention which has been paid to the subject by the author. Whatever engages our attention much, naturally assoa particular turn. Long attention to any subject will ciates with the train of our ideas and gives the mind accommodate an author's style to the tone which it requires, but will at the same time render it more unfit for subjects which require a tone somewhat different. He who has been engaged in treating important subjects, and who has preserved, in treating them, a dignified manner, cannot easily descend to the style of common life. On the other hand, when he whose attention has generally been directed to common and trivial subjects, attempts to be dignified, his dignity becomes him ill. In addition to the causes which have been already enumerated, I might mention copying of models. This must affect the style: but if the natural style of the author does not appear from an incongruity rowed, it will at least appear from his imagination, between that which is his own, and that which is borhis sensibility, or the vigour of his mind. But copiousness, as well as accuracy of language may be expected from the cultivated mind. For ordinary conversation, very little variety of expression is required; and he who has studied language no more than is necessary to fit him for the ordinary I shall conclude, therefore, by enumerating again, as the fundamental or primary causes of the diversity business of life, can have very few words at command. of style, the difference of age and of original constiThe deeper any subject is, and the more carefully it is examined, the greater need will there be that those ideas, which are only similar, may be distinguished.tution, and the state of the mental cultivation of the The difference of ideas cannot be marked without a difference of words. He therefore, who has studied most deeply, and who has been most careful to make authors, the genius of the languages in which they write, and the peculiar nature of the subjects treated. B. POETRY. [ORIGINAL.] LINES TO THE REV. H. H. MILMAN; Come to my aid celestial muse, The leaves and flowers must ne'er decay, Nor droop in wint'ry hour. MILMAN! thy beauties are sublime! And majesty's in every line, Exalted and refined; Full of bright charms and eloquence, Of her sad awful fate; The Christian bears his cross with awe, For vengeance is the Jewish law, This corner-stone, their hate. But heaven in characters of light, Prophetic truth reveal'd to sight, Jerus'lem is no more. Conquer'd by the Christian war, Glorious shone the eastern star, Good-will from shore to shore. Antioch's sons, a race debas'd, Their god a block of stone. The Prince of Peace unknown. Of everlasting light: The mists of ign'rance now are fled, The day-spring after night. And sweeps the trembling strings! Hail then, sweet bard, immortal fame, Will ever deck with wreaths thy name, Fragrant as blooming spring. Feb. 26th, 1822. [ORIGINAL] THE TEAR. BY A YOUNG LADY. T. T. L. [ORIGINAL] MORNING. Come, come, and we'll climb, with day's young blushes, Yon hills with purple heather crown'd, For nature now from sleep is waking, Tho' night has her in tears been steeping, Come ye whose hearts these things can move, Come listen to the water rushing, Then rise, and join this universal lay, LINES, P. W. H. On witnessing the separation of an African Negro and his Wife, having been sold to different masters. I saw the two parted That ne'er had been parted before not but anita broken hearted, Grasp'd the hand they would never grasp mure;— As the calm the dread torrent concealing, Subdued was each token of feeling Save a tear, but they dash'd it away; 'Twas a moment of torturing sadness, Too strong for the bosom to bear: It burst, and the loud cry of madness, As they rush'd from the arms of each other, I met the poor African's eye: The remembrance no time can e'er smother, ON DISAPPOINTMENT. Alas! how inconstant the pleasures That fancy pourtrays to the mind; We grasp at the shadowy treasures, And nought but deception we find. Gay hope, like a gentle deceiver, Bewitches the world with her smile; By flattery lull'd we believe her, C. S. Nor once think of sorrow or guile. Our joys with our troubles soon blended, SONNET. WRITTEN IN A CHURCH-YARD. A sweet and soothing influence breathes around WOMAN. X. Y. O Woman, lovely Woman, magic flower, Thy tender beauty Mercy wrung from heaven, From Wisdom's pitying hand thy sweets were given, That makes one loth to leave this heaven below? Pains they might soothe, and cares subdue awhile, But soon the soul would sigh for 'witching Woman's smile. CLARE. There is a popular story, that about 500 years ago, the city of Basil was threatened with an assault at sunrise. The artist, who had the care of the great clock of the tower, having heard that the attack was to begin when it should strike one after midnight, caused it to be altered, and it struck two instead of one : thinking they were an hour too late, the enemy gave up the attempt; and, in commemoration of this deliverance, the clock ever since has been kept an hour in advance. |