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anfier : “ I always loved Nicolas ; I At length, however, an obscure inadmire Chanifort." A few days after, former was found to denounce him, and they met, and the master and the pupil Chamfort was carried to the Madelonembraced each other with tears.

Unable to obtain there the af. Nor was he deceived by his presenu.. tentions, and the occasional solitude that ment of his future fortune. By ihe cares fome habitual infirmities imperiously reand interest of his friends it gradually quired, he conceived to profound a horTivelled to eight or nine thousand livres ror of imprisonment, that when he was a year ; but the greatest part of it con- suffered to return a few days after to his fitted of pensions, and the whirlwind of apartments under the custody of a guard, the revolution swept them away. The he swore he would rather die ruan be day after they were fuppreffed, he went

immurcd anew. to see his fellow academician, Marmon- in little more than a month the gentel, and found him lamenting the loss darme told him he had orders to carry that his children would suffer by the fame him back to a house of confinement.-decree. Chamfort took one of them upon Chamfort retired to a clofet, under the his knees : - Come here, my little fel. prerence of making his preparations ; low,” said he, u you will be a better tired a pistol at his head ; thattered the man than either of us. Some day or bones of the nose, and drove in his right other you will weep over your father, on eye. Astonished at finding himself alive, Hearing that he had the weakness to weep and resolved to die, he took up a razor, over you, because he feared that you tried to cut his throat, and mangled the might not be so rich as himself."

Mesh in the most dreadful manner. The That metcor that role in the French weakness of his hand made no change in revolution ; rushed through the political the resolution of his mind : he atteinptfyftem like a comct; and disappeared in ed several times, in vain, to reach his the midst of the long surprise and uncafy heart with the same instrument; and admiration it excited-Mirabeau, in finding himself begin to faint, made a Thort, was the friend of Chamfort, and last effort to open the veins at his knees. often borrowed his pen. The moit elo- At length, overcome by pain, he uttered quent passages in the Letters on the order a loud cry, and fell almost lifeless into a of Cincinnatus belong to the latter. He chair. was, indeed, his council upon all occa- The door was broke open and surgeons lions; and when Mirabeau went to pass and civil officers foon repaired to the an hour with him, as was his custom in spot. While the foriner were preparing the inorning, he used to call it going to drellings for fo many wounds, Chamfort rub the post electrical head he had ever dictated to the latter the following truly inet with,

Roman declaration : * I, Sebastian Roch The light emitted by this electrical Nicolas Chamfort, declare it was my inhead could not fail to shine in opposition tention to die a freeman, rather than to to the blasting rays of the mock fun of be carried back, like a flave, to a houfe liberty—of the felon Robespierre-to of confinement.

I declare, moreover, whom talents and virtue were alike ob- that if violence be used to carry me noxious.

thither in the state I ain in, I have ftill It was difficult, however, to lay hold on strength enough to finish what I have Chamfort. Frank, upright, decided, and begun.” independent of all parties, he had steered An hour or two after, he became pera steady course through the revolutionary feetly calın, and resumed his usual ironistorm, openly profeiling an equal hatred cal manner. “ See what it is," faid he, of priests and nobles, and of Marat and to want dexterity ; an aukward mar the rest of the men of blood. At the same cannot even kill himself." He then time that he was author of the laying, went on to relate how he had perforated ** Guerre aux chateaux, puix aux cbuio his eye, and the lower part of his foremières," he explained by the appella- head, instead of blowing out his brains; tion of the fraternity of Cain and Abel, the Scored his thıoat, instead of cutting it ; compulsive system of fraternization de- and scarified his breal without reaching vised by the Jacobin Club.

his heart. • At last,” added he, “Y

recollected Seneca ; and in honour of Se* War to the seat, Peace to the cot

neca, I resolved to open my veins; but

Seneca was a rich man; he had a warm age.

bath, and every thing to his with : I am

a pour

66

645

means.

1796.) Original Letter of Sir George Saville. a poor miserable devil, and have none of $ 10 conquer and blefs the world.I the same advantages. I have hurt-my- take conquering to bless, & cutting one {elf horribly, and here I am still.” half of a nation's throats, to treat the

Not one of the multitude of wounds other with lenity, to be the most unchris. he had made was mortal. Strange as it tian thing in the world. Indeed, I have al. may appear, they were even attended by ways thought, parcere fubjeétis to be a very beneficial consequences. By giving vent foolish, as well as a very impertinent to an internal humour that had long saucy language, for man to talk to his preyed upon his constitution, they re- fellow creatures. I do not know whether ftored him to a state of health he had I hould add to the force of my argument, been a stranger to for years; and Cham.. by laying, likewise, fellow christians, befort might now have been alive, if, when cause, I conceive, the great point of the his wounds were closed, the surgeons had Chritian religion was to teach us we are given issue to that humour by other fellow creatures.

But they neglected the precau- But, indeed, where is the good of it? tion, and this amiable and courageous Why can't one as well spare people character was soon after seized with a first? I am sure one inay spare more of mortal disease.

them, & with far less trouble. To (Tbrse anecdotes will be REGULARLY

talk of conquering prople, and of the divine

principles U fire governnent, in the same CONTINUED, and the Conductors requtff the assistance of all persons who, by page, (nay, within four lines) makes one

lick. a recent residence in France, are qualified to communicate original and interest- the saucy pretence of bletfing) is good,

To know whetker conquering (under ing facts.]

only ask how you would like for France,

or Spain, or the Turk, if you please, to ORIGINAL LETTER FROM THE LATE

talk to to you? They would all biess you SIR GEORGE SAVILE.

their own way ; some with circumcision,

some with the inquisition. And to know [IVe have been favoured with the follozing whether it is Chriftian, jo to da to others as

letter by the gentleman to whom it was you would not be done to, is settled, as I fent, and wbo observes that it is a true reinember, some where or other; so I fuc fimile of the frank and liberal mind need not argue it. of the truly excellent writer. The fermon Saving the few lines, p. 10, which alluded io, was preached before a regi- the above refers to, I like the Sermon ment of militia, and afrerwards printed ] well; but that cursed habit, imbibed,

very carly, of applanding successful geSir, Liverpool, Nov. 19, 1779 nerous highwaymen, leads one into terI RETURN you the Sermon with rible scrapes when one fets about to ma.

thanks. It has entertain’d and pleas'd nufacture such a warp with a Christian me much. I am inclined to think the weft. Charles the 12th must have been political part of it more consistently a devilish good' Christian. What pity reated throughout than the religious. your Alexanders, &c. had not the fame The question of obedience to unlawful advantages ! I think a Roman general commands is foundly laid dow!, & had not the greater triumph, unle's he had subject only to that sort of difficulty flain a certain number of men. which all political propositions are liable darken their Splendour, I suppose the to from the possibility of being over- number muft have been increased for a Irained, & of putting cases which clever Christian triumph. thall drive you to absurd conclusions, by And now having, I think, almost getting into extromes. Thus it will be writ a sermon likewise, I thank you once objected,

Sball each common soldier judge more, & remain, fir, of a nice poin: of law ?" Nevertheless the

Your obliged, and doctrine is right and found. But I do not so well like the applica

Obedient humble servant, tion of Christian virrut, to enable a na

G. SAVILE. tion “10 darken the Roman Splendour, T. B. Bayley, esq.

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ORIGINAL POETRY

UPON

ODE TU SOLITUDE.
IRREGULAR STANZAS

THE

DEATH OF A YOUNG LADY.
FAR from Ambition's selfish train,
Where Avarice rules the busy day,

IT is vain ! and her fpirit has fled;
And patient Folly “ hugs his chain,"

Matilda has sunk in the tomb;
Enllav'd by Custom's ruthless sway,

The beauty of Nature lies mix'd with the dead: Lead me, calm spirit! to some fill retreat,

Alas! how fevere is the doom. Where Silence thares with thee the blooming

As a lily that blows in the vale, wiead, Save when at distance heard, in cadence sweet,

That springs to perfection, and dies;

She bloom'd, and then fick'ncd but thall we The village minitrel tunes his simple reed.

bewail? There, free from cares, from jarring passions free,

The grave of the pure is the path to the

kics.
Oft may I strike the lyre, sweet Solitude ! to
thee.

The victim of woe and despair,
When orient Norn, in blushing pride,

Her soul now delights in its rest;

And roving with bliss thro’the region's of air,
Profusely sheds the gliti’ning dew,
Oft lit mé cimb the mountain's fide,

Unites in the songs of the blest.
And raptur'd mark the varied view. July 29, 1796.

T.
When Noon directs on earth his parching ray ;
Then let me find the cool, the peaceful Made,

Ε Ρ Ι Τ Α Ρ Η
Form'd by embow'ring oaks, in firm array,
O'er some small stream that rustles through

ON MRS. RAINEY,OF GREENVILLE, COUNTY the glade.

OF DOWNE, IRELAND Thither let Fancy lead her magic band,

By Dr. DRENNAN. And o'er my senies wave her foul-entrancing wand.

THE light of Memory, struggling thro' the But when at eye the curfew's knell

gloom,
Winds lowly thro' the dusky grove,

Awakes to life the tenant of this tomb;
Pensive I'll seek the rural cell,

Restores each mild, majestic matron grace,
Or 'midst the gloom in filence rove;

Dwells on the form, and lingers on the face ; And when from ilage spire the solemn tull In strong delusion waits to hear her speak, Yields its sad tribute to the breathless clay;

And sees the bloom just mantling o'er the cheek, As calm Reflection feals upon my sul,

Her mind recals the varied lov: liness, The tear unmark'd thall take it filent way; The power to warm, to harmonize, to bless; And mournful oft I'll cull the violet's bloom, The franquil conitancy in acting right, Heave the sad soothing high, and dress the ciay

And the fine sense of elegant delight; cold tomb.

Her breast by duty warm’d, by goodness grac'd, When Midnight spreads her blackeít robe,

While round it play'd the lambent flame of

taite.
And vrouds in fullon miits the sky;
When Terror rules the filent globe,

Hers, every charm that could in courts prevail,
And phantoms mock the fearful eye;

Ilcr charm and choice to steal along the vale. Parent of all! w: se voice the winds chey,

Hers, the full sweetness of domestic life, The raving occan, and the black’ning form,

Tle friend, the daughter, ifter, mother, wife. Yet stoop'st to guide the sparrow on his way,

The wife-thou whom noít my foui deAnd ihed'it thy mercy on the firuggling In whom I liv’d, with whom my bliss ex

fries, worm! To thee, great God! to thee my voice I'll

pires !

In va n does Memory pierce this mortal gloom ; Trembling I'll strike the lyre, and hymn thy Thy husband sees, and only sees the tumb,

boundless praise. Norwich.

A.

EL EGY

raise ;

UPON THE LOSS OF A FRIEND.

EP IGRA M. MARTIAL, Book viii. Epig. 35. CUM fitis fimiles, paresque vità,

Uxor pesiima, peflimus maritus,
Miror, non bene convenire vobis !

TRANSLATED.
Pair'd in wedlock, pair'd in lifc;
Husband, suited to thy wife:
Worthless thou, and worthless she ;

Strange it is ye can't agree !
Hackney, June 26, 1796,

G. W.

WHILST others wildly run in Pleasure's

course,
And scorn pale Misery's sadly plaintive figh,
I weep, unhceded victim of remorse,
Ah! whither, whither, Mall the wretched

Ay?
But now my bosom (we'l'd with easy mirth;

But now it flow'd with sympathetic joy ;
Each sweeter from charm Friendship took its

birth :
Fool that I was ! such blessings to destroy.

And

1796.]

Original Poetry.

647

and must one moment daslı the happy scene, And darken each fair prospect Hope has made ? Oh! that such pleasures I had never seen,

Or never known the bli'sful vision lade!
The sun at even sinks below the sky,

And in the morning rises as befo e:
My hopes, alas ! (I speak it with a ligh)
Are set in forrow, and shall rise no more.
1796.

MARTIS-COLL.

O then retire, and weep! Their very nices

Soluce the guiltles. Drop the pearly flood On thy, sweet infant, as the FULL-BLOWN

rose, Surcharg'd with dew, bends o'er its neigh

b'ring BUD. And ah! that Truth some holy spell might

lend To lure thy wanderer from the fyren's power; Then bid your souls infeparably blond, L ke tw

bright dew-drops meeting in a flower.

S. T. COLERIDGE.

ODE TO THE SPIRIT OF ANIMATION.

(Vide DARWIN's Zoonomia, Vol. I.] Indited on a journey on horseback last winter, and

travelling late at night. O THOU! whose presence nune can trace

Midst all the fons of ADAM's race,

Nor teli, or where, or when,
Or how thou sprang'it to life at first,
Or in what corner thou wast nurst

Of this trail house of men :
Dear to my head, my heart must dear,
SPIRIT OF ANIMATION! hear,

Nor let our union end.
I own, without thee I'm undone :
And where could' it thou for shelter run,

Should'st thou desert thy friend?
I know thy alderman desire,
For drink and reít, for food and fire,

Whilst I am cold and wet :
But patience til! we reach yon inn;
I'll ply the then with ale and gin,

And many a dith I'll get. But mark, when fill'd, no pranks like those Which learned Doctor DARWIN shows,

Who says, that when thou’lt full, . Thou’rt apt to play men inany a trick, And frilk about, and tuis, and kick,

Just like a mad town-bull.
This house, remember, thou art in,
Is but of clay, and built but thin,

And I on is pulld to pieces:
Yet thould'It thou rend this house in twain,
Perchance thoul't nut a better gain,

Nor one on lun er leales.

SONNET. AS one, whom the dark phantoms of the

nicht, Troubling his wilder'd phantasy, have led

Amid the dim damp mantions of the dead, Or from some pre-ipice's giddy height Abruptly thruit when moming's orient ray

Wakes him to lafety, loves to ponder o'er

The vision'd terrors terrible no more ;
So I look back on the departed day.
When as I journeyed aloit. Life's dull road,

Hope Aed my wounded borom, sulkn Care

Sat on my brow, and fernly faci De pair Courted to rest within his dark abode; The fad lyre echoed then the pensive fons, Yet sooth'd the wearying hours that lingering lazg'd along

B.

ON A LATE CONUBIAL RUPTURE

IN HIGH LIFE. I SIGH, fair injurd Stranger ! for thy fate ;

But what shall í hs avail thee': thy pour heart, 'Mid all the “ pomp and circumfiance." of state,

Shivers in nakedness. Unb ade1}, Itart Sad recollections of Hope's garish dream,

That thap'da feraph form, and nam’dii Love, Its hues gay-varying, as the orient beam

Varies the neck ut Cytherea’s dove. To one Soft accent of domestic joy, Poor are the thouts that ibake the high

arch'd dome; Those plaudits, that thy fiublic path annoy, Alas! they tell thec---Thou ro a wretch at

home

RECEIPT TO MAKE A SALLY-LUN (a well-known

cake at Bath.) Written by the late Mujor Drewe, of Exeter. No more I heed the muffin's zeft,

The Yorkshire cake, or bui),
Swett Muse of Paftry! teach me how

To make a Sally-Lun.
Take thou of luscious wholesome cream

What the full pint contains,
Warm as the native blood which glows

In youthful virgin's veins,
Haít thou not seen in olive rind,

The wall-tree's rounded nut?
Of juicy butter just its size,

In thy clean pastry put.
Hat thou not seen the golden yolk,

In chrystal ihrine imnur'd;
Whence, brooded o'er by fuít'ring wing,

Forth springs the warrior bird?
Oh! save three birds from savage man,

And combai's sanguine hour;
Crush in three yolks the seeds of life,

And on the butter pour.
Take then a cup, that holds the juice,

Fam'd China's fairelt pride :
Let fornuing yeast its concave fill,
And froth adown its side.

But But seek thou, first, for neatress' sake,

The Naiad's crystal stream;
Swift let it round the concave play,

And o'er the surface gleam.
Of salt, more keen than that of Greece,

Which cooks, not poets use,
Sprinkle thou then with sparing hand,

And thro’ the mass diffuse. Then let it reft, disturb’d no more,

Safe in its steady seat, Till thrice Time's warning bell lath Aruck,

Nor yet the hour compleat.
And now let Fancy revel free,

By no ftern rule confin’d;
On glittring tin, in varied form,

Each Sally-Lun be twin'd.
But heed thou well to lift thy thought

To me, thy power divine;
Then to the oven's glowing mouth

The worxi'rous work consign.

When to a hapoy car it fpeaks,
And every drowsy cincture breaks ;
Then scream not here, thou LITTLE SWELP,
For I only wake to weep.

Once, charming was my waking hour,
When sweet reiections knew my bower ;
When springing from my couch of balm,
My views were gay, my heart was calm;
When laughing pleasure at my board
Spread out its ever-sparkling hoard ;
Wher friends and filial Cherubs (mild,
And of its thom cach care beguild.
NA!.--Wake me not, O CRUEL SWEEP,
For I only wake to weep.
Sept. 22, 1796.

LEONORE.

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TO A CHIMNEY-SWEEPER. AH cease thy fhrill-pipe, LITTLE SWEEP,

I!

Nor raise these aching lids to weep!
When Dawn, arrayed in pearly white,
Siis on the shadows of the night,
Then, gentie dreams in gambo's bound
And light-drawn Numbers glide around,
Then, rosy Fancy takes the chains
And leads us o'er enchanted plains;
Then, do not wake me LITTLE SWEEP,
For I only wake to weep.

Thy clario'ı loud I hate to hear,
And, dreading Thee, I Neep in fear :
For sleep all the good I know,
The filky veil which hides my woe.
No bright ideas gild my bed,
No lively hopes their treafues fied:
s dreary, vapid, joyless scene,
Is All my grave and me between.
Pass filent on thei, LITTLE SWEEP,
For I only wake to weep.

How sad it secms, when slumbers fly,
And sun-beams blaze along the sky,
To feel no sun-beam in the mind !
There, all is dark, and cold, and blind.
Then MEMORY, on impy wings,
Her retrospective poison brings,
And EXPECTATION, blacker ftill,
Bids deep Despair my bosom fill.
Hush, hush thy cry then, LITTLE SWEEP,
For I only wake to weep.

Pass on, pass on, thou ling’ring child,
Nor roufe me with thy shriekings wild.
To blissful dwellings speed thy way,
For they with transport meet the day.
No lipnet hath a softer note,
Than that which tear's thy ebon throat,

TO THE LILIES OF THE VALLEY.

Ey the Riv. J. BIDLAKE, of Plymcuth.
YE lowly children of the shelter'd vale,
Like modest worth by scornful pride dise

daiv'd,
Your little, fleeing life,

Wlo wafie unscen, unknown,
In verdant veil how bashfully enwrap'd,
Ye thun the officious hand, the scarchful light,

With down-calt, pensive tye,

And ever-nuusing heads ! Ah! when I view your meek, your humble

mien, And all your highly breathing fragrance tale,

How bleeds my fad’ning soul,

For unprotected worth!
How bleeds to think, that mortal excellence
Is doom'd to live forgot, unheeded die !

For in your short-liv’d charms

Are pictur'd well its fate. For ye, ere yet the morning's rising gale Shall wing its early course, may ccafe to greet

With the sweet brca h of love

The wakeful wanderer's way. Nor longer, virtue's boaft! a little day, A little hour, the blooms ! Nor can her pow's

Us helpless victims shield

From the unpitying grave, Then come, my Anna's faithful bo!om deck : For ever there true worthy true wisdom dwell.

Congenial to your state,

Soft in that heaven rest.
There Thall no busy insect dare obtrude
Your sweets to rifle with perfidious kiss;

While ye more fragrance talte

Than in your native beds.
Your highest incense breathe, to cmulate
Those more than op'ning niorning's pures

sweets,
That fit on rosy lips
Of smiling chattity.

A CORRECT

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