The like, sat still and silent as a mouse: Only projecting, with attention due, Her whisker'd face, she ask'd him, "Who are you?" And turning up the leaves, and shrubs around, ON THE LOSS OF THE ROYAL GEORGE. WRITTEN WHEN THE NEWS ARRIVED. (SEPTEMBER, 1782.) To the march in Scipio. [On the 12th of August, 1782, the Royal George, being on the heel at Portsmouth, suddenly upset and went down, when all on board, including visiters, more than eight hundred souls, perished. Nine days afterwards the bodies of many of these unfortunate sufferers floated; at Portsea thirty-five corpses were washed ashore, and buried in one grave, over which a marble monument has been erected detailing these particulars. The accident appears to have been occasioned by an injudicious arrangement of the guns, which brought the centre of gravity and centre of buoyancy too near, and in the same vertical line. Hence, on the flowing of the tide, the ship fell over to one side, the lower parts filled, and she went down instantly. Had the upper deck guns been run out, instead of being braced right inwards, the accident would have been prevented-of such importance is general science to men in all situations. This noble lyric, composed at the suggestion of Lady Austen, was written in the September following.] TOLL for the brave! The brave that are no more! Fast by their native shore! Eight hundred of the brave, Had made the vessel heel, And laid her on her side. A land breeze shook the shrouds, Down went the Royal George, Toll for the brave! Brave Kempenfelt is gone; It was not in the battle; She ran upon no rock. His sword was in its sheath; When Kempenfelt went down, Weigh the vessel up, Once dreaded by our foes! And mingle with our cup The tear that England owes. Her timbers yet are sound, Full charged with England's thunder, But Kempenfelt is gone, His victories are o'er ; Shall plough the wave no more. THE DIVERTING HISTORY OF JOHN GILPIN; SHOWING HOW HE WENT FARTHER THAN HE INTENDED, AND [For this inimitable poem the world is indebted to Lady Austen, as detailed in the Life of the poet. At the request of Mrs Unwin it was first published anonymously in the Public Advertiser. Gilpin's adventures immediately became exceedingly popular,— were copied into all the periodicals of the time, vended in the streets, represented in caricatures, and recited in public by Henderson. "In short," observes the author, "I have but two rivals in the public estimation, Mrs Bellamy and the learned pig." But while the fame of his production was thus universal, a few of his intimate friends only were in the secret, and on Cowper publishing the first authentic edition in his second volume, all were surprised, and some of the serious absurdly offended. Much representation has been hitherto entertained on this point, as if Cowper himself had been weak enough to have religiously lamented an innocent, though mirthful composition, and to have regarded as a deadly sin the publication of the following poem. Of this step he has, indeed, thought a vindication necessary, stating that he left it entirely to his publisher to insert the poem or not. At the same time, he repeatedly remarks to Newton, whose ill-timed officiousness intruded the defence upon him, that whatever tended to recommend the volume to notice would prove useful to truth and religion in the end.] JOHN GILPIN was a citizen Of credit and renown, A train-band captain eke was he Of famous London town. John Gilpin's spouse said to her dear, 66 Though wedded we have been "To-morrow is our wedding-day, 66 My sister and my sister's child, Will fill the chaise; so you must ride On horseback after we." He soon replied, "I do admire “ I am a linendraper bold, As all the world doth know, Quoth Mrs Gilpin, "That 's well said; We will be furnish'd with our own, John Gilpin kiss'd his loving wife; That, though on pleasure she was bent, She had a frugal mind. The morning came, the chaise was brought, But yet was not allow'd To drive up to the door, lest all Should say. that she was proud. So three doors off the chaise was stay'd, Where they did all get in; Six precious souls, and all agog To dash through thick and thin. Smack went the whip, round went the wheels, John Gilpin at his horse's side For saddle-tree scarce reach'd had he, When, turning round his head, he saw So down he came; for loss of time, 'Twas long before the customers Were suited to their mind, When Betty, screaming, came down stairs, "The wine is left behind!” "Good lack!" quoth he" yet bring it me, My leathern belt likwise, In which I bear my trusty sword, When I do exercise." Now Mrs Gilpin (careful soul !) Had two stone bottles found, Each bottle had a curling ear, Then over all, that he might be His long red cloak, well brush'd and neat, |