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LINES TO MY SISTER.

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WRITTEN IN THE JUVENILE FORGET ME NOT."

This little wreath of pearls so bright,
For childhood fondly wove,
I give thee;-may unmix'd delight
Stream from this pledge of love!
I do not wish to covet e'en

Thy ev'ry wish, thy ev'ry thought;
Or check at any festive scene

Thy smiles with innocency fraught.
When I am far from home and thee,
Or grassy mounds sepulchre me,

I would one fleeting thought engage.
Shall I be then by all forgot?
No-as thou ling' rest on this page,
"Twill bid thee to 66
Forget me not.'

Corn Market, Oxford.

J. P.

THEATRE ROYAL, BATH.

This elegant structure is situated in Beaufort-square, and has an elegant and imposing appearance; it was first opened on the 12th of October, 1805. Its classical front was designed by Mr. Dance, and the whole built under the direction of Mr. Palmer, a most able and ingenious architect. The exterior is handsome; but its interior is finished in such an excellent style as to vie with any building of a similar description. The decorations are very splendid, especially the ceiling, which is divided into four compartments, each of which is adorned by an exquisite painting by Cassali, which were purchased at Fonthill, by Mr. Methuen, of Corsham House, and presented by him to the proprietors of the theatre. There are three tiers of boxes: the private ones, which are twenty-six in number, are enclosed with gilt lattices, and have a private entrance. It will hold nearly £350, at 5s. to the boxes, 3s. to the pit, and 1s. 6d. to the gallery. The whole of this splendid structure was built, ornamented, and furnished, by the citizens of Bath.

The Bath stage has been conspicuous for the number of

eminent performers it has first brought into notoriety. Mrs. Crawford, Mrs. Abingdon, Miss Brunton, Mrs. Siddons, Mrs. Bartley, Mrs. Chatterley; with Messrs. Henderson, Incledon, Edwin, Elliston, Lovegrove, C. Taylor, and Chatterley, first developed their talents before a Bath audience.

What though our stage some few recruits may own,
As senseless as the boards they tread upon;
Though here, at times, some heroes may be found,
Who bid defiance both to sense and sound!
Confounding every passage they rehearse,
Bad by degrees, and miserably worse;
Yet in this soil, by favor's sunshine rear'd,
Some buds of real talent have appear'd;

And splendid stars now grace the London sphere,
Whose earliest rays were nurs'd and kindled here.

CONUNDRUMS.-BUDGET VI.

"D'ye give it up {"

35. Why is love like poplin?

36. Which of the king's subjects is privileged to sit before him with his hat on?

87. What is that which goes from London to York without once moving?

38. What do we do, when, to increase the effect, we diminish the cause?

39. Why is the nest of the smallest English bird like St. Paul's?

40. Why may pork gravy be said to be the best in the world?

SOLUTIONS TO MY LAST.

30. You, Ewe, Hugh, Yew, Hue, (color) Hue, (clamor) Hew.

31. Because each loss is felt.

32. Because it affords shelter in a rainy day.

33. Because he has a lady in his head.

34. Because the spirit moves him.

BILLY, BLACK.

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A tradition prevails in the Portuguese settlement of Macao, that a cave, situated in a garden, a little below the loftiest eminence in the town, is the place in which the celebrated poem of the " Lusiad" was written: it still bears the name of Camoens, and partakes of the veneration due to his talents, and his memory: the above is a faithful representation of the spot.

How often, alas! does the most splendid talents, and the most afflicting misfortunes, fall to the lot of the same individual! How frequently does fortune, in her perversity, delight to thwart the bounty of nature, and triumphs in rendering her brightest blessings the sources of disaster and misery. The fate of the highly gifted and honorable minded Luis de Camoens is a melancholy proof of this. This distinguished poet, whose genius conferred so high an honor, and whose treatment reflected so deep a disgrace on his country, was a Portuguese, and a native of Lisbon, where he was born, in 1527. His father was commander of a vessel, and lost his life by shipwreck, when his son Luis was in his infancy. L. 29. 1.

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Addicted to arms, Camoens, after completing his academical studies, entered into the army; and in a campaign against the Moors, at Cruta, had the misfortune to lose an eye. No way enriched by the pursuit of his military profession, he resolved to embark for the East Indies, urged by the hope of mending his fortunes, by better success in trade. This effort, however, was unsuccessful, and his leisure hours were devoted to the muses, the result of which was the production of one of the few permanent epic poems with which the world has been delighted and adorned. On his return from the Indies, he had the misfortune, like Cæsar before him, to suffer shipwreck; and like Cæsar, who, under similar circumstances, swam with one hand and held his Commentaries above water with the other, he preserved his Lusiad. This great work was finished in 1569; but the pestilence, which then raged in Lisbon, prevented its appearance until two years afterwards, when he published it, with a dedication to King Sebastian. But, as if misfortune had "marked him for her own, his hopes of royal patronage was cruelly disappointed. The monarch, either insensible to the merits of the poem, or persuaded out of his liberality by the enemies of the author, received with coolness what he ought to have considered as an honor done even to a sovereign, and rewarded the writer with a neglect which left him in all the wretchedness of indigent virtue, and to expire amid his ungrateful fellow-citizens, a prey to that penury, the bitterness of which, in 1579, put an end to his existence, and left an everlasting stain on his king and country.

Some authors pretend that Sebastian allowed him a pension, on condition of his residing at court; but that it was withdrawn by Cardinal Henry, who succeeded to the crown of Portugal, lost by Sebastian at the battle of Alcazar. But this battle took place only a year before the death of Camoens, and would not have justified the following epitaph, which was inscribed on his grave :

Here lies Luis de Camoens,
Prince of the poets of his time.

He lived poor and miserable, and died
Anno Domino 1579.

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