humour, and seemed very greatly pleased with me and my instrument. He told me, I was the young man he wanted to be acquainted with, and that if it was no detriment to me, I should not leave him this month to come. "Come, Sir," continued this fine old gentleman, "let me hear another piece of your music-vocal or instrumental as you will, for I suppose you sing as well as you play." "Both you shall have, Sir," I replied, " to the best of my abili

And the lines:

"Hic vivum mihi cespitem, hic
Verbenas, pueri, ponite thuraque
Bimi cum patera meri :

Mactatâ veniet lænior hostiâ:"

Which are imitated in the fourth verse of the song, Mr. Francis translates as follows,

"Here let the living altar rise,

Adorn'd with every herb and flower;
Here flame the incense to the skies,
And purest wines libation pour;
Due honours to the Goddess paid,

Soft sinks to willing love the yielding maid."

You see in this the difference between a translation and an imitation.

ties, and by way of change, I will give you first a song, called

THE SOLITUDE.

YE lofty mountains, whose eternal snows
Like Atlas seem to prop the distant skies;
While shelter'd by your high and ample brows
All nature's beauties feast my ravish'd eyes:
And far beneath me o'er the distant plain
The thunders break, and rattling tempests reign.

Here, when Aurora with her cheerful beam

And rosy blushes marks approaching day; Oft do I walk along the purling stream,

And see the bleating flocks around me stray: The woods, the rocks, each charm that strikes my sight, Fills my whole breast with innocent delight.

Here gaily dancing on the flow'ry ground

The cheerful shepherds join their flute and voice;
While thro' the groves the woodland songs resound,
And fill th' untroubled mind with peaceful joys.
Music and love inspire the vocal plain,
Alone the turtle tunes her plaintive strain.

Here the green turf invites my wearied head
On nature's lap to undisturb'd repose;
Here gently laid to rest, each care is fled;

Peace and content my happy eye-lids close.

Ye golden flattering dreams of state adieu!

As bright my slumbers are, more soft than you.

Here free from all the tempests of the great,
Craft and ambition can deceive no more!
Beneath these shades I find a blest retreat,

From Envy's rage secure, and Fortune's pow'r :
Here call the actions of past ages o'er,
Or truth's immortal source alone explore.

Here far from all the busy world's alarms,

I

prove in peace the Muse's sacred leisure: No cares within, no distant sound of arms,

Break my repose, or interrupt my pleasure. Fortune and Fame! Deceitful forms! Adieu! The world's a trifle far beneath my view.

This song delighted the old gentleman exceedingly. He told me, he was charmed with it, not only for the fine music I made of it, but the morality of it, and liked me so much, that I was most heartily welcome to make his solitary retreat my home, as often and as long as I pleased. And indeed I did so, and continued to behave in such a manner, that in two months time, I gained so entirely his affections, and so totally the heart of his admirable daughter, that I might have her in wedlock when I pleased, after the expiration of that current year, which was the young lady's request, and be secured of his estate at his death; beside a large fortune to

be immediately paid down; and this, though my father should refuse to settle any thing on me, or Miss NOEL, my wife. This was generous and charming as my heart could desire. I thought myself the happiest of men. Every week I went to Eden-Park, one time or other, to see my dear Miss NOEL, and pay my respects to her worthy father. We were while I stayed a most happy family, and enjoyed such satisfactions as few I believe have experienced in this tempestuous hemisphere. Mr. NOEL was passionately fond of his daughter, and he could not regard me more if I had been his own son, I loved my Harriot with a fondness beyond description, and that glorious girl had all the esteem I could wish she had for me. Our mutual felicity could rise no higher till we gave our hands, as we had already plighted our hearts.

This world is a series of visionary scenes, and contains so little solid, lasting felicity, as I have found it, that I cannot call life more than a deception; and, as Swift says it, " He is the happiest man, who is best deceived." When I thought myself within a fortnight of being married to Miss NOEL, and thereby made as completely happy in every respect as it was possible for a mortal man to be, the small pox step'd in, and in seven days time, reduced the finest human frame in the universe to

The most

the most hideous and offensive block. amiable of human creatures mortified all over, and became a spectacle the most hideous and appalling. This broke her father's heart in a month's time, and the paradise I had in view, sunk into everlasting night.

My heart, upon this sad accident, bled and mourned to an extreme degree. All the tender passions were up in my soul, and with great difficulty could I keep my ruffled spirits in tolerable decorum. I lost what I valued more than my life; more than repeated millions of worlds, if it had been possible to get them in exchange. This engaged, beloved partner, was an honour to her sex, and an ornament to human kind. She was one of the wisest and most agreeable of women; and her life quite glorious for piety to God, compassion to the necessitous and miserable, benevolence and good will to all, with every other grace and virtue. These shone with a bright lustre in her whole deportment, and rendered her beloved, and the delight of all that knew her. Sense and genius were in her united, and by study, reflection, and application, she improved the talents, in the happiest manner. She had acquired a superiority in thinking, speaking, writing, and acting; and in manners, her behaviour, her language, her design and her understanding was inexpressibly