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“ He leads yon shallow renegado band,

Strangers to war and hazardous emprize, And 'gainst the mighty chieftains of the land,

Vain and unskill'd, a desp'rate conflict tries.

“ Yet since assurance is not giv'n to man,

Nor can ev'n kings command th' event of war, Since peevish chance can foil the subtlest plan

Of human skill, and hurl our schemes in air.

« To-morrow's sun beholds me conqueror,

Or sees me low among the slaughter'd lie; Richard shall never grace a victor's car,

But glorious win the field, or glorious die.

“ But thou, my son, heed and obey my word,

Seek not to mingle in the wild affray:
Far from the winged shaft and gleaming sword,

Patient await the issue of the day.

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“ North of our camp there stands a rising mound,

(Thy guide awaits to lead thee on the way) Thence shalt thou rule the prospect wide around,

And view each chance, each movement of the fray.

“ If righteous fate to me the conquest yield,

Then shall thy noble birth to all be known; Then boldly seek the centre of the field,

And midst my laurelld bands my Son I'll own.'

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« But if blind chance, that seld' determines right,

Rob me at once of empire and renown, Be sure thy father's eyes are clos'd in night,

Life were disgrace when chance had reft my crown.

“ No means are left thee then, but instant flight,

In dark concealment must thou veil thy head; On Richard's friends their fellest rage and spite

His foes will wreak, and fear ev'n Richard dead.

“ Begone, my son! This one embrace! Away!

Some short reflections claim this awful night: Ere from the east peep forth the glimm'ring day,

My knights attend to arm me for the fight.”

Once more I knelt, he clasp'd my lifted hands,

Bless'd me, and seem'd to check a struggling tear; Then led me forth to follow his commands, x?

O'erwhelm'd with tenderest grief, suspense, and fear.

What need of more! Who knows not the event

Of that dread day, that desp’rate foughten field, Where, with his wond'rous deeds and prowess spent,

By numbers overpow'r’d, my sire was kill'd?

A son no more, what course was left to tread,

To whom apply, or whither should I wend? Back to my Tutor's roof, by instinct led,

My orphan footsteps did I pensive bend.

O'er-ruling fate against my wishes wrought;

The pious man, snatch'd from this frail abode, Had found the blessing he so long had sought,

The way to immortality and God.

With flowing eyes I left the sacred door,

And with relying heart to heav'n did bend; To God my supplication did I pour,

To God, the inourner's best and surest friend;

That he would guide me to some soft retreat,

Where daily toil my daily bread might earn, Where pious peace might sooth ambition's heat,

And my taught heart sublimer ardour learn.

He heard me- All I ask'd in thee was lent,

Thou lib'ral proxy of my gracious God! Thou paid'st my industry with rich content,

And giv'st my weary age this soft abode.

The work is done, the structure is complete

Long may the produce of my humble toil Un-injur'd stand! and echo long repeat, Round the dear walls, Benevolence and Moyle!

T. Hull.

LOVE SONG. Adapted to the mercenary manners of the Age.

Boast not to me the charms that grace
The finest form, or fairest face ;
Shape, bloom, and feature I despise ;
Wealth, wealth, is beauty to the wise.

Come then, Oh come! and with thee bring
Ten thousand joys from wealth that spring;
Oh! bring the deeds of thy estate,
Thy quit-rents, mortgages, and plate.

Still keep unseen those auburn locks,
And yield thy treasures in the stocks;
Oh! hide that soft, that snowy breast,
And give, instead, thy iron chest.

Thy guineas shame the blushing rose,
Which in those cheeks unheeded blows;
Too sweet for me that ruby lip,
Give me thy India bonds and serip.

Meteor. STANZAS.

'Tis noon, and the cool-breathing zephyr is fled,

And the dew-drop no longer besprinkles the thorn; I fly from the sun-beam that scorches my head,

And sigh when I thiuk on the beauties of morn.

For oh! vanish'd morn, as I feel thee depart,

I know that life's loveliest season is o'er; Like thy shades each soft vision is quitting my heart,

And I know that these visions shall glad it no more!

Yet why should I mourn ? on my opening mind

Thought early intruded her lessons severe;
E'en in childhood I ponder'd the precepts unkind,

And mingled the revels of youth with a tear!

Sport on, then, ye triflers-enjoy the gay beam,

Nor remember the shadows of ev'ning inust fall, When its splendours shall perish like yesterday's dream,

And silence and night shall envelope ye all.

For me, as the pageant glides by, I can smile,

Since few are the pleasures time pilfers from me, And hope of its terrors my breast shall beguile, As I welcome the sentence that bids ine be free!

Miss Fulford.

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