which, to an experienced mind, suggests the likelihood of abortion rather than of abundance. Bardolph's speech to "We fortify in paper," is not in the quarto. ACT. III. cr -in the slippery clouds." I must prefer shrowds, here, to clouds; and, notwithstanding the instances produced by Mr. Steevens, to shew that shrowds, sometimes, is the same as clouds, I cannot be reconciled to slippery clouds; nor to the tempest, or kind of poetry, which would hang the waves in the clouds, at all; though the waves might, in some intemperate and ambitious moments, aspire to kiss or touch the clouds. "The happiest youth, reading the Book of Fate, Would shut the book, and sit him down and die.” Mr. M. Mason, I think, conceives this passage truly. If a youth, whose pre-ordained course of life were the happiest that a mortal could experience, were, by anticipation, admitted to contemplate its progress, he would pause in the midst; and reflecting on the numerous evils and vexations foregone and to come, in this visionary survey, would, in despair, shut up the book, and die at once. In Milton occurs a similar train of thinking: "Better end here, unborn: Why is life given "My brother general the commonwealth, I make my quarrel in particular." All the attempts to explain this passage, have been, hitherto, unsuccessful; the best I can do with it is this, Westmoreland had asked the archbishop what he complained of? General, replies the bishop, The Commonwealth; my brother general (i. e. genèral bro-, ther) become, as it is, by misrule, a houshold cruelty to its brothers born, I make my special cause of quarrel. ORIGINAL POETRY. ODE ON THE DEATH OF THE DUKE D'ENGHIEN, SON OF CONDE. BY OCTAVIUS GILCHRIST, ESQ. Finis vitæ ejus nobis luctuosus, amicis tristis, extraneis etiam ignotisque non sine curâ fuit. Tacitus. By an usurping tyrant's hand Destroy'd, the victim of his fears, Thee! forefathers' illustrious deeds, Say, miscreant! that by her smile What her august records unfold? 'Gainst whom thou didst thine arm extend, And, urg'd by jealousy malign, Doom'd to an ignominious end. Offspring of heroes! cherish'd shade! Embalm'd, for ever, in our memories; *The original of this translation appeared in some of the daily papers, a short time since, and excited considerable interest. While the fierce tyrant's hated name- Gallia! of old in war renown'd, That sung the deeds of chivalry, Low in the dust thy sceptre lies; Thy nobles are in fetters bound; Why sleep'st thou ? rouse! thy genius cries; O! sons of France! in mem'ry's seat, Proclaim thy wrongs with trumpet tongue; He was the glory of the wars; Thou! towards whom thy subjects bend, Keen is the pang thy bosom bears, Thy crown usurp'd-but Gallia sees Thy grief-ev'n now her vengeance rears, His injur❜d ashes to appease, IMPROMPTU, 66 BY THE AUTHOR OF THE PATRIOTIC CLARION," On the Price of Dollars, bearing the Impression of the King's Head being raised from 4s. 9d. to 5s. WHEN the head of King George, on King Charles's of Spain, Was stamp'd on each Dollar-the wits of the town, Have often remark'd, "that the heads of the twain (Although mighty kings) were not both worth a CROWN!" But times now are alter'd-their value's more high, (Though foes our finances still strive to derange,) For those who the heads of the monarchs espy, Declare them, 66 now worthy of CROWNS in exchange!" Museum, Birmingham, 18 Jan, 1804. THE WANDERERS. SCENE-A Mountain in Andalusia. TIME-Sunset. Oh holy Pilgrim! kindly stay, PILGRIM. Sleep hangs upon the lady's eyes, And 'mong the dells banditti stray: Why o'er this mountain bleak and bare, Wander you thus, Signor, declare Thro' its lone wilds no guide to lead, LILLA. Hold, Carlos, hold, and let me tell, His beard old age had silver'd o'er, Long for my mother had he sigh’d, And with my mother, love had died— I see you feel my artless tale, Else why that deep, that labour'd groan? PILGRIM. Your father's fate's so much my own! But quick, proceed, and say what more? LILLA. I stung that breast ne'er stung before; CARLOS. Oh cease my Lilla, sigh no more, The clouds of grief will soon fly o'er! |