nd though, perhaps, my lot too certain is, Eager I dar'd anticipate the blifs; Pourtray'd before my mind the raptur'd hour, When all my heart should own thy conq'ring pow'r ;

When Diffidence and Doubt, by Joy fuppreft, In Thee my wand'ring Hope at laft might reft;

Tho' long it brooded o'er loft Rapture's urn,
Yet with reviving heat for thee shall burn.
Oft, when beneath the night's oblivious fhade
In Peace the cares of forrowing man are laid,
Thy Phantom gilds the gloom with streaming
Light,
[bright;
And 'mid the thickest darkness shines more
Inagure, varying ftill, and unconfin'd,
Sone new creation of the changeful mind.
But now, perhaps, thy abfence to confole,
While Cynthia's filver wheels in filence roll,
Thou in my slumbers wilt again appear,
And thy own genuine native graces wear:
Then as I clasp the lovely Vifion round,
And my exulting nerves with tranfport bound,
Those brilliant eyes fall dart one witching
glance,

And leave my senses wrapt in amorɔus trance. How, fweetest pleader in chafte Virtue's caule,

Could'st thou be thought to violate her laws? Ne'er be it mine thy generous warmth to blame,

Or with Sufpicion blot Eliza's name!
No! may i ftill, impreft with wonder, gaze
At that great foul which animates thy lays!
And though thy mind's refistless energies
Glow in Imagination's richest dyes;
Though many a chofen word, in Nature's
drefs,

Each bold luxuriant fentiment exprefs;
And though thy honied periods still are bound
“In magic numbers and persuasive sound ;”
Yet what were thefe, if Vice profan'd thy
page,
[rage,
The Atheist's fneer, or mean Detraction's
"Polluting the pure gift of Poefy"
With ftrains unfit to meet the virtuous eye?
Ah no! on founding nervous wing upborne,
'Tis thine the faults of either fex to fparn;
Yet o'er a stranger's woes to mourn fincere,
And drop into his wounds a balmy tear!
Then wrong me not, dear Maid, or think
my lay

With baseft infult would that tear repay! Perifh the verfe, and may the ungen: line Fade from my page, and be no longer mine! Thy pardon yield, if aught was done amifs; O could thy lips but feal it with a kifs!

But no Impoftor, or licentious Youth, Would lure thy virtues from the fide of Truth: Dear to my heart is Nature s modeft hue ; The Rofe's blush just wash'd in pearly dew;

Dear are thofe artlefs fimple pleasures, known To fouls refin'd, and genuine love alone : In vain to us imperial beauty shines, Unless a fecret charm its aid combines; As on fome ftatue, which the sculptor's art Has form'd with symmetry in every part ; Where Genius blended with correct defign Robes every limb in Beauty's flowing line; Fix'd on the lovely wonder we remain In ftupid gaze, or warm emotions feign; But cold fenfations thence our eye derives, And tranfport but in powerful Fancy lives. 'Tis thus, unless with form in union rife The tra n of tender fenfibilities, God's radiant work at diftance we admire ; For Tenderness alone can nurse Defire : The jarring paffions feel its foft controul, And, calm in tides of milky kindness roll; In Harmony the sweet affections move, The heart expands, and all the soul is love.

O come my faireft, haften to my arms ! Array'd in all the lightning of thy charms; And may long years of pure and fervent love My grateful fenfe of all thy goodness prove! Then when my fond embrace has clasp'd thee round,

And Hymen's hand the eternal tie has bound, Together, Nature's children, will we rove, And every obje& shall but breathe new love; Climb the steep mountain's fide, and lift from

far

The din of cities, and the ocean's war :
Oft in the boson of a flow'ry vale,
In fighs refponfive pour the impaffion'd tale :
Oft in fome happy folitary hour,
United feel the Mufe's maddening pow'r :
Then for the varying joys which round us rife,
Our nangled gratitude fhall reach the skies.
Nor fhall our days enervate Pleasure waste,
But, rifing vigorous from the short repaft,
Our fouls thall foar, impreft with higher
aims,

And own the force of Duty's awful claims :
By mutual aid our ardent steps shall mount
On high to Wisdom's clear, perennial fount ;
And from large draughts of the celestial flood,
Learn that fi it, noblest science, to be good,

Is it a dream? and o'er the narrow bounds, The sphere which human happiness surrounds, Does fierce Imagination, wilder d, roam, 'Scap'd from the prifon of its earthly home? Or fay, whoe'er thou art, thou dear unknown,

Will Truth the fweet delufive vision own? Can Heaven, the all-indulgent, deign to shed At once its cho cest bieffings on my head? Ah no, fond Youth, the madd'ning thought reprefs,

Nor vainlythus make life's brief pleafures leís! But were the viv.d dream of rapture true, Nor Fancy's flatt'ring touch the picture drew,

H 2

Although

Although our breasts congenial paffions move, Both pant alike for Liberty and Love; Though both have trod the realms of claffic ground,

And cull'd the flagrant flow'rs which there

are found;

Though wafted by the Poet's magic wand, We bled with Hector on the Trojan ftrand; Wash'd with Andromache his ftreaming gore, And wept, when Troy's last flame arose no more;

Though for the later vot'ries of the Mufe, Whofe graves are moisten'd yet with sightly

dews,

We fled, indignant, Fashion's fenfeless throng,
And woo'd the facred influence of fong:
Although Religion has her laws applied,
My wavering feet in Virtue's paths to guide,
Yet to that foul, within that form enshrin'd,
Tho' to my bathful fears thy verfe is kind,
How shall my hopes presumptuous dars afpire,
And ope again the fources of defire ?
Had Fortune bad my teeming coffers (well,
Soon fhould't thou know" that I could love
too well;"

Bold would I fearch the world around for thee,
And burt the bars which part my Heav'n and

me.

In vain to cafe a hapless ftranger's woes,
Thy pitying breaft invites me to repose ;
How could'st thou, born perhaps in courts to
fhine,'

Life's gay enchanting luxuries refign?
And to the lowly plain defcending, bear
The humble fortures of my lot to share?
Though nature spread to us a bounteous feaft,
And gave her fober, guiltless joys to tafte,
Would not e en then a figh in fecret burn,
And ask to thofe gay scenes a short return?
Though wealth for us ne'er pour'd its trea-

fures forth,

And Fate fu; prefs'd our wishes in the birth,
When Beauty pleaded, how could Love deny?
How dim with tears the luftre of thine eye?
Couldst thou retire to fome fequefter'd cot,
The world forgetting, by the world forgot?
And when the zenith of our joys was o'er,
Live, and repine not at our scanty store?
Or when, the pledges of our mutual blifs,
An infant tribe impior'd the parents kifs;
Around our knees with fportive gestures clung,
And lifp'd imperfect raptures with their
tongue;

How would anxiety the future fcan?
How mourn the promise of the rifing man?
That penury forbad each op ning grace,
To claim and wealthier youths a foremoft
place;

To trample, with the pride of confcious worth,
The fons of Vice, with all their arts, to earth ?o
When grief, difeafe, or ruthiefs wan diftrefs,
Hard on thy gentle bofom 'gan to prefs,

How could I bear to see thy forrows flow, And thy fair head untimely bend with wee? Like fome pale Primrose of the defart glade, Whose bosom by the ftorm is proftrate laid a To fee perhaps Death's cruel grasp infold Thofe limbs by Nature cast in finest mold? To hear thy voice in parting accents break, While life's laft crimson linger'd on thy cheek I How would that day awake my fruitless fighs, For comforts Fortune's niggard hand denies! How afk for wealth, if wealth had aught to

fave

Fell Sorrow's victim from the ravinous grave! Thou vernal fun! who twice ten years hafı held

Thy circuit round the heav'n's coerulean field, Since first my infant orbs receiv'd thy rays, And drank with trembling joy the noon-tide blaze!

Ere thou again fulfil thy annual race

Through the vast regions of ætherial space,
Difpel the envious gloom that veils my fair,
Chafe those dark mits that bid ine to despair;
That once reveal'd to my impatient fight,
Her dear idea ftill may feed delight:
If Deftiny's Itern mandate has denied
To meet, in fair Eliza's name a bride;
Suretter 'tis to mourn the bleffing lt,
Than in fuffence and endless doubt be toft.
But why, rash Youth, abandon'd to come

plain,

Reje&t bright Hope, and all her fimiling train ? Perhaps the hour fhall come we both may

meet.

And I lie panting proftrate at her feet:
Yet oh! withdraw not from my ravish'd ear
Thofe ftrains, which melody might bend to

hear!

Still let thy Mufe on the lov'd fubject dwell, And footh my doubts: till then-dear Maid, farewell!

Oxford, March 7, 1796.

EDWIN, JUNIOR.

WYKHAMICUS.

A WAR SONG.
From the ANCIENT BRITISH.

ARNO! frike the lyre again,

To arms! the forious MORCAR cries;
What means yon tumult on the plain,
Come, let the fons of CUMBRIA rife!
Let us hafte to meet the foe,
And lay the ruthlefs tyrant low!
See thro' yonder tufted wood

The hordes of enemy advance;
Come, godlike youths, to fcenes of blood,
Mount the feed and couch the lance.
Let us hafte to meet the foe,
And lay the ruthless tyrant low!
Let noble deeds your breafts inflame,
Let courage true your fouls inspire';
Oh think on aged CARMO's fame,

And let his deeds provoke your ire.

Let

Let us hafte to meet the for,
And lay the ruthless tyrant low!
Let not the foft, the gl.stening tear
Wet the foldier's fun-burnt face;
Hence coward feeling! no vain fear
Shall e'er the fons of war difgrace.
Let us hafte to meet the foe,
And lay the ruthless tyrant low!

Come, mighty warriors, let us join,

With eager arms, the battle's rage;
Mingle your bloody vows with mine,

To fuccour neither youth nor age!
Let us hafte to meet the foe,
And lay the ruthless tyraf: low !
Let us with courage strike the blow,
And sternly deal grim death around;
Strike with our arms dread on the foe,

And level thousands with the ground.
With glory let our befoms glow,
And make the hardy CELTS TO BRITONS bow!
See the armies now advance,
Point to point, and lance to lance;
Courage true the Briton warms,
Eager he grafps his cumb rous arms;
He rushes boldly on the foe,
And striketh deep the deadly blow.
Now they make the carnage (pread,
Many feek a bloody bed;
Purple gore bedyes the ground,
Streaming forth from many a wound.
See what turbid fumes arife,
And dim the beauty of the skies.
OSCAR's crefted pride is filed,
OSCAR's number'd with the dead;
His limbs no more fhall ftride the fteed,
No more his fword make thousands bleed.—
The chief is dead-confus'd his vaffals fly,
And leave to CUMBRIA's fons the well-earn'd
victory.

Carlife.

YERS ES

B. C.

Active at once and diligent he fhines,
And with vivacity found judgment joins.
With various feelings we his pages read,
While we through ev'ry reign, allur'd, pto-
ceed.

Surveying the transactions in our Isle,

By turns we lorrow, execrate, and smile. From bloody scenes we fhudd'ring turn away, Shock'd, when bold villains make a broad difplay

Of deeds inhuman; while, with barb'rous art,

Invention ftrives to agonize the heart
With tortures new. Severely are we pain'd,
When with fuch deeds the historic page is
ftain'd.

With harrowing fcenes, indecent ones we meet,
And language † which no fair-one can repeat
Without a blush, who is not led to fhine
With a falfe luftre in the Cyprian line:
From fcenes indecent with disgust we rife,
But dwell on others with delighted eyes.

H.

TRANSLATION FROM THE GREEK.
CHORUS

FROM THE MEDEA OF EURIPIDES,
Ερωτες ὑπὲς μὲν ἄγαν
Ελθόντες, οὐκ εὐδοξιάν
*Οι δ' αρεταν παρέδωκαν
Ανδρασιν,

IF

και αλλ.

Love the voice of Reason spurn, And with wild paffion's fury burn, ! O'er all, the wretch is most unbleft; In whom the fierce diftracting fire

Rules with unbridled fway his breast, Kindling tumultuous rage and mad defire; Virtue, Faith, Juftice, love of generous Fame, All perish, all are loft, in the deftructive flame.

But, if more gentle fates combine
With Love's warm fympathies to join
The chafter wifh, the vow fincere,
The figh of kind Simplicity,

The modelt eye, the tender tear,

Candid Esteem, confiding Friendship free, And fpotless Truth, that chance nor change

'Tis

prayer,

2

And clofe my eyes in death, their future tears to spare!

Of all misfortunes that await
On Man's difaftrous mortal state,

The harshest, heaviest that we know, Is from one's Country to be drove :

Ah! 'tis no tale of tabled woe ;'Tis thine, Medea! the dread curfe to prove,

Wretched, and far from your dear native hore,

Unwept, unpitied, even by those you lov'd before!

Perish that monster, nor one tear,
Or voice of Friend e'er glad his ear,
Who never kind compassion felt,
Nor ftoop d to fuccour the diftrefs'd;

Whom generous Pity ne'er could melt, Nor Charity unlocked his rugged breaft! Friendship. thou precious cordial of the

mind!

When, where fhall I, alas! a friend that's faithful find?

Ah! why from the couch where mifery reclines,

Fliet thou to revel 'midst a homely train, To fh.d thy poppies o er the village fwain, Who knows no care, beneth no forrow pines. O'er my fwoln eyes thy leaden fceptre fpread, Tofooth awhile my throbbing brain, O Sleep, In bland chlivien all my fenfes steep, And strew fantastic vilions round my head, Ere from thy wand the potent charm fhall fly, For fon oblivious death will close my eye. May 8ıb, 1796.. EDWIN.

"

NIGHT,

A SONNET.

NOW folemn Night her fable curtain draws,
Pale Cynthia fteals her filver courfe along;
No noife difturbs the villager's repofe,
Save Philomel, who mourns his plaintive
long.

The scatter'd profpects on the distant plain, And lofty tow'rs, that draw the wand'rer nigh,

Are hid in darkness from the stranger's eye, Since awful Night affum'd her filent reign.

STATE

No. I. PROCLAMATION of the PRINCE de BOUILLON,

JERSEY, MAY 14, 1796. THE multiplied proofs of rare devotion to the public caufe; of proved difinterestedness; of valour that calculates neither refiftance nor danger, have taught your enemies that honour is the fole duty of a French Gentleman, and the defire of being ufeful his fuft paffion. You have been feen, Gentlemen, every where in the most difficult pofts, braving all dangers, and even death itself, in order to devote yourself to every facrifice.

The regret of all honest men accompani. ed you when, in the Plains of Champagne, difaftrous circumstances forced you far from your homes, which you had fo nearly approached; then, Gentlemen, the army of the centre, under the direction of the Allies, had only an existence in fome measure dependent.

Now, however, long miferies deeply felt, the deep indignation of having been deceived, the horror of having been, without wishing it, the inftruments of the mot atrocious crimes, have at length roufed the people from their lethargy; whole Provinces of France have rifer, and in order to fhew themselves, wait only for Chiefs; there people, accustomed to find them in their benevolent Lords, who were to them as fathers, call out for thefe Lords in just reparation.

It is under their conduct that they with to fly to battle, and if they burn with a defire of re-establishing the Throne and the Altar, they will atteft to polterity, that before they enter upen this enterprite, they will have rendered themselves worthy of affifting in it, by putting at their head thofe who have never deferved being at any

other place.

This with, Gentlemen, has been manifefted to the Minifters of the King, my Mater, and I am directed to communicate it to you. Armies are organizing ; but armies without Chiefs would be ule

The whifp'ring breeze, that gently sweeps the dale,

The roaring furge, that courts the rifing wind,

Now chearly footh the contemplative mind, In wand'ring thro' life's folitary vale; Whilft the twinkling stars, and filvery orb of night,

Point out to feeble man his great Creator's might.

Carlife.

lefs.

R. A.

When, at the name alone of their King, and at the will of their King, thefe armies fhall be directed by Gentlemen trained to arms, and illuftrious by their actions, who fight for themselves, and on their own ground, what may not be expected ?

Brethren in Arms, true Frenchmen, of whom we Englishmen have too long been rivals, we see the safety of France and the repofe of Europe dependent on this unionis there a more powerful motive for them? In the name of their country, with the approbation of my King, and by the authority of their own, I invite thofe among you, Gentlemen, whose po fition, talents, and age, enable you to join the Royal and Čatholic Armies of the Interior.-I am fure that I speak to your generous hearts.

We have no longer to engage in thofe ISOLATED Combats, in thofe clandeftine fruggles, at the first appearance of which the delicacy of a foldier, accustomed to attack his enemy in front, revolts. There are properly organized corps, an immenfe army which waits only the arrival of its Chiefs, and for which the King, my Maiter, furnishes all the fucccurs that the most powerful intereft and true fraternity can beltow.

It is, indeed, Gentlemen, to the judges of honour, and to thofe who are in the habits of regulating their conduct ac cording to its principles, that we addrefs this invitation. It is they alone who can judge in what way it affects them. We do not pretend to trace out any duty, any obligation; but to indicate to French Chevaliers the means of rendering them felves ufetul. And we believe, in doing so, we are acting according to their wishes..

Attached to France by fo many and fuch strong ties, and to Frenchmen who have fo nobly devoted themselves to the caufe of their Religion and their King, I, hereby, promile that all those who may

think themfelves bound to attend to this invitation will find me ever anxious to ful