Then as for mufic, half an hour each night,
And he'll foon play an easy tune at fight.
Improvement thus improv'd by diftillation,
A week at most completes an education.
Would our young hero farther yet proceed,
And think it neceffary he should read;
Kind criticifm, with candour long unknown,
(On pocket volumes rais'd her new-made throne),
ESSENCE of Authors daily advertises,

And fells their beauties at the lowest prices.
Nay, fhould the task of reading be too great,
There are" Societies for Free Debate"-
Where, for a fingle fixpence, once a week,
You 're taught to read-at leaft you 're taught to fpeak;
Where the wide range of fubjects must admit
A fomething which fhall every (peaker hit.
The Financier, who, warm with rhet❜ric grown,
Pays Britain's debts, but thinks not of his own,
Mourns o'er her treasury, tells how to stock it,
Speaks but of what he feels-an empty pocket.
Or, should debate round to taxation wheel,
There all muft fpeak of what they all muft feel.
The City Blood, who rails at the police,
Beft knows its weakness, for he breaks the peace;
Knocks watchmen down, to prove our laws not right,
And in the watch-house roars reform all night.
-But hold, our Prompter beckons!-could I stay,
I meant to give the moral of our play;

To talk of Edwin's virtues-Morcar's rage-
And fermonize the follies of the age;

Then, quick as thought, digrefs to filks and gauze,
To Rival Theatres and Monftrous Craws;
Mix politics with fatire on a gown,
And put in rhyme the news of all the town.
All this, aye, and much more, I had to say,
But for this Prompter, whom I must obey;
Who fwears he will not prompt another time;
So go I must-adieu! the fault's not mine.

LINES

Written by MARY Queen of SCOTS, on the Lofs of her Husband, Francis II. of France, with an English Translation.

EN

From Anecdotes, by M. P. ANDREWS, Efq.

N mon trifte et doux chant,
D'un ton fort lamentable,

I fe plaintive notes wor

N melting ftrains that fweetly flow,
Tun'd to the plaintive notes of woe,

Je

Je doux trait de ces yeux,
Je vois en une nüe;
Soudain je vois en l'eau,
Comme dans un tombeau.

Si je fuis en repos,
Sommeillant fur ma couche,
J'oye qu'il ma tient propos,
Je le fens qu'il me touche:
Et labeur, en recoy,
Tousjours eft preft de moy.

Je ne vois autre objet,
Pour beau qu'il le préfente
Aqui que foit fubjet
Oncques mon cœur confente,
Exempt de perfection,
A cette affliction.

Mets, chanfon, icy fin,
A fi trifte complainte,
Dont fera le refrein.
Amour vraye & non feinte
Pour la féparation,
N'aura diminution.

His vifionary form I fee,
Pictur'd in orient clouds; to me,
Sudden it flies, and he appears,
Drown'd in a wať'ry tomb of tears.

Awhile if balmy flumbers spread
Their downy pinions o'er my head,
I touch his hand in fhadowy dreams,
His voice to foothe my fancy feems.
When wak'd by toil, or lull'd by refi,
His image ever fills my breaft.

No other object meets my fight,
Howe'er in robes of beauty dight,
Which to my fad defpaiting heart,
One tranfient with will e'er impart;
Exempt from that unalter'd woe,
Which this fad breast must ever know.

But ceafe my fong-Ceafe to complain!
And close the fadly plaintive ftrain,
To which, no artificial tears,
But love unfeign'd the burthen bears.
Nor can my forrows e'er decrease;
For ah! his abfence ne'er can cease,

- On the late AMERICAN WAR.

PON a trefile, pig was laid,.

UPON

And a fad fquealing fure it made.

Kill-pig food by with knife and steel:
"Lie quiet, can't you?-Why d'ye fqueal?
"Have I not fed you with my peafe,
"And now, for trifles fuch as these,
"Will you rebel?-Brimful of vićtual,
"Won't you be kill'd and cur'd a little?"
To whom thus piggy, in reply:
"Think'st thou that I fhall quiet lie,
"And that for peafe my life I'll barter?"—
"Then, piggy, you must fhew your charter;
"Shew you 're exempted more than others,
"Elle go to pot like all your brothers.-

66

Help, neighbours! help?-this pig's fo ftrong, "I think I cannot hold him long.

Help neighbours; I can't keep him under!
"Where are you all?-Sec, by your blunder,
"He's burft his cords!-A brute uncivil,
"He's gone!—I'll after-to the devil!",

EPIGRAM.

A

Ignotum omne pro magnifico.

VERSE to pamper'd and high mettled fteeds,
His own upon chopt ftraw Avaro feeds:

Bred in his ftable, in his paddock born,

What vaft ideas they mufl have of corn!

V'erfes on

on Mifs FARREN's acting in DUBLIN for the Benefit of Person: confined for fmall Debts.

By Sir HERCULES LANGRISH, Bart.

HE lovely Farren's tender breaft,
Glowing with generous fympathy,

Afpires to comfort the oppreft

And bid captivity be free.

Yet ftill her kind exertions fail,

Her charms retract the boon fhe gave,
And whilft her magic breaks the jail,
Her eyes make every man a flave.

Tranflation of three Hymns, fuppofed to have been written by the Greek Poet DIONYSIUS, and fet to ancient Greek Mufic.-From DR. BURNEY'S Hif tory of Mufic.

HYMN to the Mufe CALLIOPE.

MUSE beloved, Calliope divine,

The first in rank among the tuneful nine,

Guide thou my hand, and voice, and let me lyre
Re-echo back the notes thy ftrains inspire.

And thou, great leader of the facred band,
Latona's fon, at whole fublime command.

The fpheres are tun'd, whom God and men declare
Sov'reign of fong, propitious hear my pray❜r.
VOL XXXI.

M

HYMN

HYMN to APOLLO.

THROUGH Nature's wide domain'
Let folemn filence reign;

Let all the mountains, hills, and floods,
The earth, the fea, the winds, and woods,
The echoes, and the feather'd throng,
Forbear to move, or tune their fong.

Behold the lord of light

Begins to blefs our fight;

Phoebus, whofe voice divinely clear
E'en Jove himself delights to hear;
Great father of the bright-eyed morn,
Whofe fhoulders golden locks adorn!

Swift through the azure sky
O let thy courfers fly;

And with them draw that radiant car,
Which fpreads thy fplendid rays afar,
Filling all space at thy defire
With torrents of immortal fire.

For thee, ferene advance
The fpheres in folemn dance,
For ever finging as they move
Around the facred throne of Jove,
Songs accordant to thy lyre,'
While all the heavenly hoft admire.

And when the god of day
Withdraws his golden ray,

Do thou, fweet Cynthia, blefs our fight
With thy mild beams and filver light;
Oh spread thy fnowy mantle round,
And wrap the world in peace profound.

HYMN to NEMESIS.

AVENGING Nemefis, of rapid wing, Goddels of eye fevere, thy praise we fing: Against thy influence, ruler of our lives, Daughter of Juftice, man but vainly strives. "Tis thine to check, with adamantine reign, The pride of mortals, and their wishes vain.