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TO THE EVENING STAR.

(From Moschus.)

Hail, golden star, of ray serene,
Thou fav'rite of the Cyprian Queen.
Hesper ! glory of the night,
Diffusing through the gloom delight;
Whose beams all other stars outshine,
As much as silver Cynthia's thine ;
Oh! guide me, speeding o'er the plain,
To him I love, my shepherd swain;
He keeps the mirthful feast, and soon
Dark shades will cloud the splendid moon.
Of lambs I never robb'd the fold,
Nor the lone traveller of gold;
Love is my crime :-Oh! lend thy ray
To guide a lover on her way!
May the bright star of Venus prove
The gentle harbinger of love !

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THE FIFTH EPISTLE OF THE FIRST BOOK

OF HORACE, IMITATED.

To John Hawkesworth, L. L. D.

If you, dear Sir, will deign to pass a day
In the fair vale of Orpington and Cray,
And live for once as humble Vicars do,
On Thursday I'll expect you bere by two.
Expect no piceties with me to pick,
But Banstead mutton, and a barn-door chick.

My friends with generous liquors I regale,
Good port, old hock, or if they like it, ale..
Plain is my furniture, as is my treat,
For 'tis my best ambition, to be neat.
Leave then, all sordid views, and hopes of gain,
To mortals, miserable, mad, or vain; "
Put the last polish' to th’historic page,
And cease awhile to moralize the age.
By your sweet converse cheer'd, the live-long day
Will pass unnotic'd, like the stream, away.'
Why should kind Providence abundance give,
If we, like niggards, can't afford to live?
The wretched miser, poor 'midst heaps of pelf,
To cram his heir, most madly starves himself
So will not I-give me good wine and ease,
And let all misers call me fool that please.
What cannot wine? it opens all the soul;
Faint hope grows brilliant o'er the sparkling bowl :
Wine's generous spirit makes the coward brave,
Gives ease to kings, and freedom to the slave;
Bemus'd in wine, the bard his duns forgets,
And drioks serene oblivion to his debts.'
Wine drives all cares and anguish from the heart,

And dubs us connoiseurs of ev'ry art.
· Whom does not wine with elegance inspire :

The bowzy beggar struts into a squire.
This you well know-to me belongs to mind
That reatness with frugality be join'd:
That no intruding blab, with itching ears,
Darken my doors, who tells whate’er he hears."
Two Duncombs, each a poet, with me dine,
Your friends, and decent Colman, a Divine :

There's room for more; so to compleat the band, Your wife shall bring fair Innocence * in band, Should Cayet want copy, let the teazer wait, While you steal secret through the garden gate.

DECEMBER.

(From the Poetical Calendar.) Last of the months, severest of them all, Woe to the regions where thy terrors fall! Hail to thy tempests, which the deep deform, Thrice hail, thy ruthless hurricane and storm! Now Eolus, let forth thy mightiest blast, By land to rock the spire, by sea the mast; Let earth and ocean feel thy potent sway, And give thy blasts their full irnpetuous way. For lo! the fiery horses of the sun Through the twelve signs their rapid course have run; Time, like a serpent, bites his forked tail, And winter on a goat bestrides the gale : Rough blows the north wind near Arcturus' star, And sweeps, unrein’d, across the polar bar, On the world's confines, where the sea-bears prowl, And Greenland whales, like moving islands, roll. There, through the skies, on brooms, are seen to ride, The Lapland wizard, and his hellish bride; There on a sledge, the rein-deer bears the swaia To meet his n istress on the frost-bound plain : Have mercy, Winter !for we own thy power, Thy flooding deluge, and thy drenching shower;

* A young lady tben resident with Dr. H. + The Printer of the Gentleman's Magazine.

Yes, we acknowledge what thy prowess can,
But oh! have pity on the toils of man!
And though the floods tby adamantine chain
Submissire wear, yet spare the treasur'd grain :
The peasants to thy mercy now resign
The infant seed, their hope and future mine:
Not always Phæbus bends his vengeful bow;
Oft in mid-winter placid breezes blow ;
Oft tinctur'd with the bluest transmarine,
The fretted canopy of heaven is seen;
Girded with argent lamps, the full orb’d moon
In mild December emulates the noon;
Though short the respite, if the sapphire blue
Stains the bright lustre with an ioky hue :

Then a black wreck of clouds is seen to fly, In broken shatters, through the frighted sky: But if fleet Eurus scour the vaulted plain, Then all the stars propitious shine again:

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JOHN PUNCOMBE.

PORN 1929, DIED 1786.

i An intimacy with our late ingenious and worthy friend, Mr. Duncombe, for forty years, entitles me to say, that in addition to a strong natural, and highly cultivated understanding, he possessed a consummate sweet ness of temper, and thorough goodness of heart."

(Mr. Nichols, Gent. Mag. for March, 1786.)

The same desires, the same ingenious arts Delighted both ;-we ound and bless'd the Power That join'd at once, our studies and our hearts."

(Mason, Elegy 3d)

As we approach the end of our journey we feel that we are treading upon tender ground. Time bas not yet sprinkled his dust upon the tombs of those we are now to notice, and they survive fresh in the “ mind's eye” of the remainder of a circle which they but lately delighted. Broken as the continuity of this circle is by the hand of death, it yet consists of some near relatives, and of many admiring and affectionate friends. Happily for our concluding pages, the fair report that has survived them for solid virtues, well-employed talents, amiable manners, and exemplary habits, is confirmed by their writings, and would render praise from us unnecessary, were it not delightful to pay that tribute wherever we think it due.

The Rev. John Duncombe was the only son of Wiiliam Duncombe, Esq. a man of learning, literary habits,

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