"Eternal justice wakes, and in their turn "The vanquish'd triumph, and the victors mourn ;Lo! Discord, fiercest of the infernal band,

Fires all her snakes, and waves her flaming brand; No more proud Commerce courts the western gales, But marks the lurid skies, and furls her sails; War mounts his iron car, and at his wheels In vain soft Pity weeps, and Mercy kneels ; He breathes a savage rage thro' all the host, And stains with kindred blood the impious coast; Then, while with horror sickening Nature groans, And earth and heaven the monstrous race disowns, "Then the stern genius of my native land, "With delegated vengeance in his hand, "Shall raging cross the troubled seas, and pour "The plagues of Hell on yon devoted shore. "What tides of ruin mark his ruthless way! "How shriek the fiends exulting o'er their prey! "I see their warriors gasping on the ground,"I hear their flaming cities crash around."In vain with trembling heart the coward turns, "In vain with generous rage the valiant burns."One common ruin, one promiscuous grave, "O'erwhelms the dastard, and receives the brave"For Afric triumphs !--his avenging rage "No tears can soften, and no blood assuage. "He smites the trembling waves, and at the shock "Their fleets are dash'd upon the pointed rock. "He waves his flaming dart, and o'er their plains, "In mournful silence, Desolation reigns

66

Fly swift, ye years!-Arise, thou glorious morn ! "Thou great avenger of thy race be born!

"The conqueror's palm, and deathless fame be thine! "One generous stroke, and liberty be mine!

"And now, ye Powers, to whom the brave are dear, "Receive me falling, and your suppliant hear. "To you this unpolluted blood I pour, "To you that spirit which ye gave restore! "I ask no lazy pleasures to possess, "No long eternity of happiness ;"But if, unstain'd by voluntary guilt, "At your great call this being I have spilt, "For all the wrongs which innocent I share, "For all I've suffer'd, and for all I dare; "O lead me to that spot, that sacred shore, "Where souls are free, and men oppress no more!

H

EPITAPH

ON MRS. F. LITTLE,

BY MISS H. MORE.

On! could this verse her bright example spread,
And teach the living while it prais'd the dead,
Then, reader, should it speak her hope divine,
Not to record her faith, but strengthen thine;
Then should her every virtue stand confess'd,
Till every virtue kindled in thy breast:
But if thou slight the monitory strain,
And she has liv'd to thee at least in vain;
Yet let her death an awful lesson give,
The dying Christian speaks to all that live;
Enough for her that here her ashes rest,
Till God's own plaudit shall her worth attest.

LINES

On the Late Rev. Henry Moore, of Liskeard.

BY MISS LUCY AIKIN.

BARD of the golden lyre! that pour'd'st again
Immortal Dryden's more majestic strain;
Taught by the Muse to roll in pomp along
The moral thunders of her loftiest song;
To fire the soul in god-like Virtue's cause,
And wake the echoes of well-earned applause;
To raise, for "Zion's" fate, the deep-drawn sigh,
While Horror glares in Pity's dew-bright eye;
Or breathe in fainter notes thy widowed heart,
With hope, with joy, with love, condemn'd to part;
Like a sick babe that weeps itself to rest
On "Resignation's" soft maternal breast;
Fix'd on thy page while admiration hung,

And rapturous wonder chain'd the faultering tongue,
What struggling passions kindled in my soul,
The glance indignant flash'd, or gave the tear to roll!
Was this the man to pine in shades away,
Uncheer'd by Fortune's animating ray?
To totter feebly on, oppress'd with gloom,
To cold Obscurity's unletter'd tomb!
No, Genius, no! it breaks, the envious cloud,
Potent no more thy sacred beams to shroud;
Haste, to his lips the sparkling goblet raise,
Rich with the cordial nectar-draught of praise;
Fame, bind the laurel round his hoary head,
And o'er his fading form thy wings of glory spread !
But hush, the warbled notes have reach'd his ear,
And Rapture sparkles in that falling tear;

That conscious smile exulting Genius fires,
That throbbing breast extatic Hope inspires.
Now, now, shall glow the bard's declining day,
And late, like summer-suns, fade gloriously away!
In vain :-chill Palsy marks his destin'd prize,
Winged with keen ice the unerring javelin flies-
The blameless Poet sighs his parting breath,
And sinks and slumbers in the arms of Death!
O much lamented! on thy modest bier
Long, long, shall stream the sympathetic tear;
Justice shall snatch the tardy trump of Fame,
And mourning Muses hymn thy favourite name.
But hence, terrestrial thoughts of vain renown!
Thine are the glories of a nobler crown,
Our transient monuments shall die away,
Frail as ourselves, the feeble sons of clay :
Thy spirit soars, from earthly bondage free,
To grasp the peerless prize-Eternity.
1803.

EPIGRAMS,

On Garrick and Barry in the Character of King Lear. BY MR. KENDAL, OF PETER HOUSE, CAMBRIDGE. THE town has found out different ways

To praise its different Lears.

To Barry it gives loud huzzas,

To Garrick only tears.

A king? Aye, every inch a king-
Such Barry doth appear:

But Garrick's quite another thing;
He's every inch King Lear.
B b

VOL. VIII.

THE RHEDECYNIAN BARBERS.

AN ODE.

In the eighteenth century, the Author of the following Parody (not a Christ Church man) being at Oxford, saw, at a distance, twelve persons, running at full speed to Christ Church cloisters, which they entered: curiosity led him to follow them; when, looking through an opening in the door of a certain commoner, he saw twelve pale figures, resembling men; they were all em ployed about a youth; and, as they worked, they sung the following song; when they had finished, they put up their imple ments, and each taking his own, they scoured away, six to Peck water, and six to the great quadrangle.

Now the sky begins to clear,
Haste! the powder-bag prepare;
Showers of sweets, and perfumes dear,
Hustle in the thicken'd air.

Blacken'd ivory is the comb,

With which thy dusky locks we strain;
Working many a louse's doom,

KREEPER'S Woe, and KRAWLER'S bane.

See the frosted texture grow

"Tis of Mar'challe powder made;

And the tail that plays below,

Hangs from **** ****'s head.