For me a wreath does Fate provide,
A chaplet meet to deck the bride

Who weds Despair-the pallid cypress here,
Shall, mix'd with dark funereal yew, appear.
Ah! never should thy fragrant breath,

Sweet rose, be wasted in the cave of death,
There must the nuptial feast be shortly spread,
There the stern bridegroom waits my bridal guests

the dead.

Then not for me, too lavish rose,
Spread thy robe. of crimson hue,
Far hence thy balmy sweets disclose,
Whilst I the weeping willow woo.

When the wild winds impetuous blow,
And lay the trembling forest low,
When the tall elm and stately oak,
Fall beneath the furious stroke,
Amidst the ravage of the plains,
The humble willow safe remains ;
She lowly bends again to rise,
When the rude tempest's fury dies.

But not for yielding gentleness alone,
And patient meekness is the willow known;
Tis her distinguish'd lot to prove
The last resource of suff'ring love;
Her graceful foliage decks the maid,
Who weeps too easy faith betrayed;

Or
Or crowns the drooping love-lorn swain,
Whose haughty fair-one scorns his pain.

Or marks the consecrated spot where sleep
Love's victims, who at length have ceased to weep.

Then still to cureless grief a friend,
Thine aid to me, sweet willow, lend;
Now Hope's deluding visions fade,
Receive within thy darksome shade,
And hide a wretch who shuns the day,
From hateful light's intrusive ray:
Wrapt in thy deep o'ershadowing gloom,
The darker shelter of the tomb,
Can only tempt me to resign,

This lone sequester'd bower of thine;
For till that last asylum shall enclose,
With its strong fence, my then forgotten woes,
What object so can charm mine eye,
As in the stream that murmurs by,

To see thy pendant branches o'er me wave,
Which shortly shall adorn my peaceful grave.

F. M. L.

EPIGRAM.

To hear Ned by the hour blunder forth his vile prose,
Job himself scarcely patience would keep !
He's so dull, that each moment we're ready to doze,
Yet so noisy we can't go to sleep.

R. A. D.

THE GLOW-WORM.

The Glow-Worm is a female CATERPILLAR, the male of which is a FLY, whom she attracts in the night by the splendor of her train.

WHEN Evening closes Nature's eye,
The Glow-worm lights her little spark,
To captivate her favorite Fly,
And tempt the rover thro' the dark.

Conducted by a sweeter star,
Than all that deck the fields above,
The wanderer hastens from afar,
To soothe her solitude with love.

Thus HERO hung her lamps to guide
The daring youth who sought her charms;
And thus LEANDER stemm'd the tide,
Led by its lustre to her arms.

SHEFFIELD, 1804.

ALCEUS.

THE LOTOS OF EGYPT,

A POEM.

BY THE REV. T. MAURICE.

EMBLEM sublime of that primordial Power That brooded o'er the vast chaotic wave, Accept my duteous homage, holy flower! As in thy favourite flood my limbs I lave.

From Ethiopia's lofty mountains roll'd,

Where Nile's proud stream thro' gladden'd Egypt

pours,

In raptur'd strains thy praise was hymn'd of old, And still resounds on Ganges' faithful shores!

Within thy beauteous corol's full-blown bell Long since th' Immortals fixed their fond abode, There Day's bright source, OSIRIS, loved to dwell, While by his side enamour'd Isis glow'd.

Hence, not unconscious to his orient beam, At dawn's first blush thy radiant petals spread, Drink deep the effulgence of the solar stream, And, as he mounts, still brighter glories shed.

When, at their noon-tide height, his fervid rays In a bright deluge burst on CAIRO's spires;

With what new lustre then thy beauties blaze, Full of the God, and radiant with his fires!

Brilliant, thyself, in stole of dazzling white,
Thy sister plants more gaudy robes unfold;
This flames in purple-that, intensely bright,
Amid th' illumin'd waters burns in gold *.

To brave the Tropic's fiery beam is thine,
'Till in the distant west his splendors fade;
Then, too, thy beauty and thy fire decline,
With born to rise in lovelier charms array'd.

Thus from Arabia borne, on golden wings,
The Phoenix on the sun's bright altar dies;

But from his flaming bed, refulgent, springs, And cleaves, with bolder plume, the sapphire skies! What mystic treasures, in thy form conceal'd, Perpetual transport to the sage supply;

Where Nature in her deep designs reveal'd, Awes wondering man, and charms th' exploring eye. In thy prolific cup, and fertile seeds,

Are traced her grand regenerative powers +;

Life springing warm from loath'd putrescence breeds,

And lovelier germs shoot forth, and brighter flowers!

* The LOTOS, or Water-Lily, of Egypt, the proper subject of this Poem, has a beautiful white flower; there are two other species, the one bears a bright purple, the other an intensely yellow flower.

† See Mr. Knight's curious Dissertation on the Phallic Worship of the Antients, where this subject is fully explained.