Yet, hero! deem not unreveng'd I bleed,

Paternal vengeance marks thy ruthless deed.

No! couldst thou quit this earth, and viewless trace,
On airy pinions borne, the realms of space,
Or, like a fish, the ocean's depths pervade,
Or, like the night, involve thy form in shade,
My sire, pursuing, shall revenge my death.
"What sire?" the victor cries; with falt'ring breath,
"RUSTUM!" (the youth rejoins) " Tamina fair,
"My spotless mother, nam'd me Rustum's heir."

The plan of the proposed Tragedy appears to have been frequently revised and corrected; the business of each act is detailed; but, after all, it is too imperfect for publication. From the introduction of a chorus of Persian Sages or Magi, it may be inferred that Sir William Jones proposed writing it after the model of the Greek tragedy, and he certainly intended to observe a strict adherence to the costume of the age and country in which the events of his Tragedy were supposed to have occurred.

The following Epode is the only part of the composition sufficiently complete for the reader's perusal.

EPODE.

What pow'r, beyond all pow'rs elate,

Sustains this universal frame?

'Tis not nature, 'tis not fate,

'Tis not the dance of atoms blind,
Etherial space, or subtile flame;
No; 'tis one vast eternal mind,
Too sacred for an earthly name.
He forms, pervades, directs the whole;
Not like the microcosm's imag'd soul,

But provident of endless good,

By ways nor seen, nor understood,

Which e'en his angels vainly might explore.

High their highest thoughts above,

Truth, wisdom, justice, mercy, love,

Wrought in his heav'nly essence, blaze and soar.
Mortals, who his glory seek,

Rapt in contemplation meek,

Him fear, hím trust, him venerate, him adore.

I close the volume with some lines on his death, written by her Grace the Duchess of Devonshire, and inserted at the particular request of Lady Jones.

On the Death of Sir WILLIAM JONES.

Teignmouth, 1795.

Unbounded learning, thoughts by genius fram'd,
To guide the bounteous lacours of his pen,
Distinguish'd him, whom kindred sages nam'd,
"The most enlighten'd of the sons of men.”*

Upright through life, as in his death resign'd,
His actions spoke a pure and ardent breast;
Faithful to God, and friendly to mankind,
His friends rever'd him, and his country blest.

Admir'd and valued in a distant land,

His gentle manners all affection won;

The prostrate Hindu own'd his fostering hand,
And Science mark'd him for her fav'rite son.

Regret and praise the general voice bestows,
And public sorrows with domestic blend;
But deeper yet must be the grief of those,
Who, while the sage they honor'd, lov'd the friend.

Dr. Johnson.

FINIS.

Father and God of mercy, give

give me

Wisdom, the assistant of thy seats : send her from thy holy heavens, from the seat of thy greatness; that the may be present with me, and labour with me to Thee! labour with me, and teach me what is acceptable to Thee!