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'Tis all to gain a little sum
To bear me o'er the sea ; And hither slowly I am come
To ask your charity.
My home is in the Valteline,
Far inland from the main ; And every day I wish and pine
To see it once again.
I cannot mend this little store ;
My wishing is in vain ;
Ah never, ne'er again !
If you have ever been abroad,
Bestow an alms on me! And think you speed me on my road
My native land to see.
My cot still rises to my view,
And will not let me stay ; But I am old, and alms are few,
And long is the delay!
And must I ever thus deplore
My labour spent in vain ?
Ah never, ne'er again!
Your country is a pleasant land,
But, oh, it is not mine!
As in the Valteline.
When on my native hills I play'd,
I breathed not English air ;
I did not love an English maid
When love was all my care.
· But I must die on England's strand,
A prisoner of the main !
Ah, never, ne'er again!
“I am also well pleased with another short poem, which, without being very lofty in the style, is very animated in the conception, and full of lyrical energy."
ODE TO PATRIOTISM.
And oft, when slumber seal'd mine eyes,
First on the lisping infant's tongue ;
“ But here is a sweet and pleasing effusion. It becomes pathetic by the sorrow that we feel in remembering the author. All of his, we trust, shall not die.”
THE POET TO HIS WORKS.
When shall ye burst the envious shade?
Unseen, unhonour'd, must ye fade?
Yet droop not hopeless round his urn,
Untimely though your blossoms fall,
For you nor he shall perish all.
Sprung through a crevice of the tomb,
A solitary stem may blow,
And point the humble name below.
Some simple, unambitious strain,
Low breathed in beauty's pensive ear,
Framed in the flowing of a tear ;
The poet's pure immortal part,
From all unhallow'd dross refined,
The heaven of a poetic mind.
" THE Russians," said Egeria one morning, as she was turning carefully over the leaves of several books which happened to be lying on the table, 6 seem to me to hold a place, in their habits, manners, and pursuits, between the Europeans and Asiatics. They have a great deal of the intelligence, the activity, and the shrewdness of the former, with no small degree of the cunning, the pride, and the selfishness of the latter. Their taste for slaves and magnificence is quite oriental ; but they have social and convivial dispositions which do not belong to the Asiatics. The custom among the Muscovite nobility of keeping dwarfs is peculiar, I fancy, to themselves. Porter's account of these unfortunate little creatures is about one of the best things in his Travels in Russia and Sweden."
“ They are here the pages and the playthings of the great ; and at almost all entertainments stand for hours by their lord's chair, holding his snuff-box, or awaiting his commands. There is scarcely a nobleman in this country who is not possessed of one or more of these