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Happiness and misery, when consi- | common cares, some sincere attachdered in reference to society, may, ment, some hour of youthful love, that perhaps, be said to be nearly relative each in its turn was a blessing to him terms. It cannot, however, be doubt- then, and which now becomes a haled, that contrasted states of feeling lowed spot of beauty, casting its sahave a widely different influence upon cred light upon the trials and misforindividuals; yet the abstract portion tunes of after-life. These are some of of happiness and misery, belonging to those sweet incidents which bind us any condition in this world, is but to earth, and to each other; and small. It appears to me, that the which do not, like the more glittering chief source of pleasure and pain is vanities by which they are surrounded, the imagination; and that any mani- “make te themselves wings and fly festation of an extreme in either, is away.' dependent upon our temperament. A I have often noticed the power of writer of a mild and contented mind, religion as administering happiness. pictures the world in the light and It casts a fitting glance upon the varying tints of peaceful enjoyment; world, and seems to carry its posseswhile one whose disposition is sad, and sor above all fear and suffering. It full of sensibility, usually speaks of binds his reflections down to one it as harsh and unfeeling, and filled point; and he does not, like others, with sorrow.
It is evident that nei. seek to anchor his little bark amid the ther of these views is in itself correct; uneven waves of this world. He rewe gain the truth by blending them gards it as the sole end of his betogether. That man whose fancy is ing, for he feels that in it there lively and romantic, may, in one sense, be said to partake most of hap
" truths which wake piness, because he has it sometimes
To perish never.' in deed, and always in thought. Whether, however, the pleasures of I remember an instance of this. anticipation be greater than those of Maria N- was in her eighteenth retrospection, is perhaps a question. year, and it was manifest that she was Mr. Campbell and Mr. Rogers have dying, the victim of a hopeless decline. contested the point; and for my part, She was the only daughter of a humI must join in the same theme as the ble village curate, a pious and intellielegant author of the Pleasures of gent man. He had, in very early Memory. The reason is this the years, laid the foundation for that realities of life, of whatever descrip- hope, which was afterwards the suption, are never arrayed in the colours port of Maria. In her dying moments which we previously give them; fine she felt its influence; through her scenery, for instance, seldom comes youthful life it bad budded and put near to the ideas we formed of it; and forth leaves, but then it blossomed. therefore we experience disappoint- Her heart was happy, for it had lost ment in proportion to our excitement its attachment to the world, so that a of mind. In this sense, then, “igno- sorrowful thought never tinged its rance is bliss ;” and it is better for peaceful reflections. every man, no matter how dull his I would not seem to jest, but conimagination may be, to rest satisfied sumption is a poetical malady, and with his conceptions, since thou- there is something in its very appearsands have proved it - folly to be ance, when aided by religious feeling, wise."
that is indescribably interesting. The But independently of constitutional fixed look of resigned thought, the differences, there have been lights uncomplaining heart, the tearless yet and shadows in every man's life. To spiritless eye, the pale thin hand, and select and dwell upon the happy pas- that hectic spot upon the cheek, which sages, is a pleasing work; they glitter is the sure harbinger of death, appeal upon the rude path we have trodden, too tenderly to the heart ever to be like the beautiful oases of the desart. forgotten. The interval from the first There is none who is, or has not once touch of sickness, too, is a preparatory been, endeared to something in the season, in which the soul is purified world around him ; every one from all earthly blemish, and at last remember some early friend, some there is a union of all that is 'most portion of time that was exempt from holy in this world, and most happy
in a better. Poor Maria, thou wast sourness and fretfulness. Indeed, a too delicate a blossom for the bleak series of years passed in this employwinds of this world, and of thee, ment is often ended by suicide, for amid a thousand recollections, we the mind saving been so long accoscannot bat say and feel,
tomed to be easily and strongly ex
cited, and to view successive disap“ Tho' other gifted minds we meet, Tho' fairest forms we see,
pointments through an improper meTo live with them is far less sweet
dium, becomes subject to moments Than to remember thee."
of perverted reason, if not of positive
insanity. When we lose the simple With regard to that pursuit in life upaffected motives to action which which leads to the greatest proportion guided us in our youth, we commonly of happiness, the choice usually de- lose all that we can, in after-life, look pends upon the bias of the mind; and back upon with satisfaction, for the yet we shall perhaps obtain the most business of the world consists in the peace in that partial retirement from display of deceitful appearances, and the world, which, while it does not in practising a system of created deprive us of its good, exempts as evils. The most successful adventufrom many of its evils. It is a beauti- rer finds sufficient to render him dissaful story which Cicero relates of the tisfied; and in the midst of his possesconqueror Scipio, that even when sions, his cry is still ardent and incesinvested with honours, and crowned sant, '“Who will shew me any good?” with triumph, he used often, with his
A retired and peaceable life, then, friend Lælius, to steal away from the is perhaps the most consonant with dazzling scenes around bim, and, at the idea of happiness; for although Caieta and Laurentum, to play over in this situation we lose many moagain the earliest sports of his boy- mentary pleasures, yet we enjoy a hood, and gather pebbles and shells freedom from those ever-varying on the sea shore. The simplest plea- cares, which are the consequence of sures are, after all, the happiest; and too close an intercourse with the this incident, while it shews us how world. It may also be remarked, that little of true peace belongs to earthly there is much of pain attendant upon glories, also pictures to us how vividly wbat are called the pleasures of life; the remembrance of infancy accompa and it would be difficult to select nies us through life, that even amid many of the amusements which abound the splendours of the loftiest triumphs, in this age, upon which, by, serioas there should be found those who could reflection, the participator in them forsake their attractions, and find could say, that the evil had not overpleasure in their first amusements. balanced the good. There are a thouShakspeare knew the insufficiency of sand petty troubles woven in the power to
convey real happiness, threads of a life of gaiety, which conwhen he made one of his characters tinuaily harass the mind, and which exclaim,
are a far more effectual barrier to “ Vain pomp and glory of the world, I hate peace, than is the action of a heavy ye;'
disappointment. Perhaps it might and a living poet in the same spirit
be proved, that a great evil has has said,
usually a less serious effect upon us
than a succession of wayward trifling “ Oh that the desart were my dwelling circumstances, inasmuch as we are place," &c.
compelled unresistingly to bow to the In proportion as we grow out of the one, while our minds have free room thoughts, feelings, and amusements, to think upon and repine at the others. which formed our earlier life, so do To keep on the “even tenor of our we become allied to objects, which, way," then, no matter how unworldly in the event of our obtaining a looked is the pursuit, is the best preservative for good, always cast a shadow upon against a life of anxious inquietude; the possession. When toiling after and I have always admired those wealth and power, as the means of simple-hearted expressions of old happiness, we see things in an unreal Isaac Walton, where he prays for a light; and if, after a life of slavery, blessing upon all those, who, as he those objects are gained, the native says,“ dare trust in Providence, and be disposition is usually lost in that of quiet, and go a-angling." G. M.
In her the virtues of her sire combin'd,
With all the graces of the female mind!
Nought can avert th' irremeable dooin,
For excellence is hurried to the tomb! To the memory of Richard Cumberland, Esq.
most respectfully inscribed to his Eldest If those who ne'er beheld thy blooming Daughter, Lady Edward Bentinck, written grace, in 1813.-By S. HUGHES.
And in thy features sought thy sire to trace,
Who view'd thee only with a mental eye,EMBALM'D in tears, that from affection flow,
Esteem'd and lov'd thee,-if they breathe a The energetic eloquence of woe!
sigh, Beneath this stone, to hallow'd earth con
And o'er thy sacred relics drop a tear, sign'd,
What feel thy friends, to whom thou wast The mortal part reposes ;--unconfin'd
most dear? The virtuous soul, flown to its native skies, Deep. their affliction, who, by friendship’s Views this low world with undesiring eyes :
tie, Too early lost, though bless'd with length of Strengthen’d the bond of consanguinity: days,
“Ah! Mariamne!”—will they oft exclaim, Thy gevius blaz'd with andiminish'd rays!
Breathing a tender sigh with thy dear name. Though silver honours did thy head adorn,
“Ah! Mariamne! lovely and belov’d, The hand of Time had spar'd thy august form; Thy pious fortitude by Heav'n approv'd, It nought avails that we to talents pay Now meets its great reward, where ev'ry eye The homage due,-for thou art snatchi'd away! From tears is free, where perfect ecstasy, Ah! what avail the honours of thy line,
Through ever-during ages will prevail, Or the bright virtues of such souls as thine?
When the foundations of the earth shall Of what avail I own exalted worth?
S. Hughes. Thou with thy ancestors art laid in earth! Of no avail thy duteous offspring's* care, Note.—This amiable lady was born in Madrid, For thou wast borne upon the fan'ral bier ; August 27, 1780. Her father being sent to No pow'r averts th' irrevocable doom,
Spain, by Government, to effect a separate The great, the good, are swallow'd by the peace: (see his Memoirs.)
Ye who delight to walk 'mid rural scenes, It 'scap'd not long thy penetrating eye;
To view romantic hills and flow'ry greens, The uninform'd from thee instruction gain'd,
To promenade the variegated park, The wise, of knowledge an increase obtain'd!
To catch the matins of the early lark, Thy bosom own'd religion's holy flame,
To walk the windings of the verdant vale, And genuine piety records thy name.
To hear the wood-notes of the nightingale;
To climb the summit of a mossy hill, Ne'er can a grateful Muse omit to pay Sonorous with the rippling of a rill; To her lost friend the elegiac lay :
To glance the eye o'er plains of fertile ground, A pensive mourning muse cannot forbear Extending in perspective far around, The frequent sigh, the sympathizing, tear, Where beauteous prospects in attractions With those who still an honour'd parent vie, mourn,
Till all blend sweetly with the azure sky; And bathe with filial dew his sacred urn.
Attend the poet as he musing strays
Of thousand beauties which the eyes deTo the memory of Mrs. F. M. Jansen, young- scry:
est Daughter of Richard Cumberland, Esq. Within this rich inclosure, none outvie most respectfully inscribed to her Cousin, In sterling beauty, elegance, and taste, Miss Joanna Hughes, in whose arms she The pheasantry, with which this park is expired, January 28th, 1814, at Tunbridge Wells, aged 33.
Within a circling wall are kept with care,
Some feather'd tenants of the buoyant air; A Muse wbose bosom had not ceas'd to heave In glitt'ring plumes those gaudy pheasants With silent anguish o'er her patron's grave,
shine, Whose eye still glisten'd with a starting Which take their brilliant titles from the tear,
mine Renews her plaint o'er his lov'd offspring's Of Guinea, where for gold poor negroes toil, bier!
Or rich Peru replete with silver soil. Oh! prematurely lost!-severe decree,
Coy antelopes which shun the stranger's gaze, Lost to her mourning kindred !-and to So nimble-footed, to be sought in vain
Retreat with glance oblique to view his face ; me, One, whom her honour'd sire did condescend
By the most nimble of the agile train.
And speckled partridge coveys on the green, To patronize, and styl’d himself my friend.
Impart some beams of beauty to the scene,
But leader of the ostentatious tribe, *Note, his youngest daughter, Mrs. Jansen. Whose plumes the richest solar rays imbibe,
The stratting peacock, vainest of the vain, And give me a mortal, whose heart is serene In conscious pride displays his dazzling As the face of the heavens on a summer-day's train;
wane, His tail expands, arrang’d in proud array, Let the beamings of sympathy sport in his Unfolding all bis glories to the day;
mien, His argas train from each effulgent eye, And truth and intelligence live in bis strain; Reflecting vivid radiance to the sky.
And then sacred Friendship call forth from our Matilda, comc-my carols deign to hear,
hearts And with approving smiles the poet cheer.
The fairest sensations of hallowed love: Know that some \minds feel happy to be And let the whole range of our intercourse drest
prove, In plumes like those wbich clothe the phea- That world of endearment thy presence imsant's breast;
E. T. And some their fate with discontent bewail, Higham, June 1822. Unless they wear a peacock's splendid tail. Still may thy heart, Matilda, ne'er repine, Content, without reluctance, to resign Vain pageants, evanescent as the air,
Appropriate to the Harvest Season.
Soon as the radiant ruler of the world,
And sparkling dews, the near approach of Then peace shall bless thee with a smile day: serene,
Euphemia, waken'd hy a solar beam, And twine thy temples with her evergreen. Oblique refracted from its course direct,
Her microcosmic sups disclos'd each orb
As eye of morning bright.-By soothing sleep
Refresh'd, she rose; her mind in pious frame,
And orisons devout, to heav'n despatch'd I have gaz'd on the earth in its vestment of To him whose hand the cornucopia holds, green,
The born of plenty inexhaustible; Apd scann'd the fair flow'rets that bloom on its breast,
Whence, with o'erflowing goodness, the de.
sires And sweet was the goblet of pleasure, I ween, of ev'ry living thing, his bounty sates. My ecstasy, quaff"d-in the moment 'twas blest. And cold is the bosom that plumes not its Her beart, expansive with philanthropy, wing,
Embrac'd the widest circle love could trace; And proud in the gale of enjoyment soars
And with sincere devotion rendered thanks high,
To God for blessings so profusely pour'd When the rich stores of nature unfold to its On others; nor her praise to those confin'd eye
Bestow'd upon herself. Tbis daty grave Their loveliness, rob'd in the liv'ry of spring. Discharg'd, this privilege enjoy'd, her sweet I've gaz’d on the life-giving monarch of day, Retreat she left in frame contemplative, When it sought in the west" its effulgence to The balmy breath of zephyrs to inhale, shroud;
The dew-bright flowers to kiss, and mediHow speakless its charms on the eve of its sway,
In calm serenity on future scenes. When crimson is thron'd on the verge of the No common mind was her's,—by birth encloud,
dow'd And the groves feather'd minstrel gives birth With gifts pre-eminent, in her converg'd
The rays of' virtue and accomplishments : And the sound of its melody rings through Nay, more--the Holy Spirit had renew'd the air,
Her spirit, and with every Christian grace And blends with th’orison of homage and Her beauteous mind adorn'd. In her dispray'r,
play'd, Which, hallow'd by piety, fell from my Faith, hope, and love, with beams anmingled tongue!
Resplendent as Orion's star-girt zone; With rapture I've gaz'd on the face of a friend,
While minor graces, like the minor stars, Nor loveliest landscape, nor sweet setting Neath the superior splendour of their rays.,
Emitted languid beams, and half conceald Was ever so lovely, so amply could lend
“ Beyond the pomp of dress,” and unadoro'd,
In native loveliness her features shone,
Invited by a sun-gilt hill, its point
With rapid glance and wide survey, drank in And give me the warmth of thy holicst flame ; | Delightful prospects in perspective spread,
to its song,
Behold that wretched female form,
An outcast from her hoine,
And doom'd in want to roam :
Why mother is so poor,
'Twas father's “one glass more.' Stay, mortal, stay! repent, return,
Reflect upon thy fate;
Spurn, spurn it, ere too late.
Nor linger at the door ; Lest thou, perchance, should'st sip again
The treach'rous “ one glass more.'
THE PROGRESS OF PHILANTHROPY. Written for the Anniversary of the Hexham Free
School, Nov.5th, 1821.- By J. Ridley.
Beneath the sun-illum'd cerulean sky.
and claim'd Her grateful admiration, were the plains, By summer suns embrown'd; where grain
mature, With drooping head, and well known golden
bue, The reaper's hand inviting, gently wav'd. Not Ceres', or Pomona's, priestess was Euphemia, she no God of dust ador'd. Her heart, her sacred altar; thence arose Devotion's fragrant incense, love inflam'd; Aspiring to its source, the heaven of heavens. Oh ! how her heart with vast delight elates, When from ber height, transported, she
beholds The wheaten rick rotund its golden head, Erect, with wheaten crown adorned. She
thought Each precious grain the golden crown con
tain'd; A costly pearl appear’d, or valu'd gem, Or brilliant, of surpassing excellence. And ere the curtain o'er the scene was drawn, Hills, vales, meandering streams, and waving
woods, Nature enliven's and inanimate, His praise to celebrate, she had invok'd, Who clothes the earth in variegated dress, And makes it teem with life-sustaining fruits. By Phæbas' heightening glow, Euphemia
knew The swift advance of noon,—with ling'ring
look, And restrospective glance, she homeward
R. K** TT.
In early days, mid superstition's sway,
lay, Or beam'd on Britain her effulgence bright: Those days of darkness mark'd with mystic
rite, Replete with hideous crimes and orgies Then youth, in ignorance and mental night, To deeds of cruelty were taught t'aspire ; Who most ferocious was, he honour'd most
bis sire! But mark the change!-what happy days
succeed! At first, with tardy steps they faintly
gleain; Till, from the light, see ignorance recede, Beneath the influence of trath's dazzling
beam : Then rous’d, at length, as from a torpid
dream, Our sires perceive the dawn of mental day; And nurs’d by liberty, the genial stream
Still pours upon the land its peaceful ray; And still its light shall spread, nor aught ob
struct its way. Hail! land of lib'ral philanthropic souls! Whom nought can from their destin'd goal
detain; Alike, when from his throne the tyrant
scowls, And when encourag'd by a milder reign. See HAMPDEN rise, his country's cause
maintain, 'Gainst claims repugnant to the public
good! See SYDNEY firmly by his rights remain!
And Russel nobly by his comrades stood, Though doom'd, alas ! to shed their patriotic
blood. The name of HOWARD ne'er shall be for
got! His was a zeal that burnt with purest
flame; With God-like feeling all his plans were
fraught, His life was mercy, and his end the same.
ONE GLASS MORE.
STAY, mortal, stay! nor heedless thus
Thy sare destruction seal;
Which all that drink, sball feel :
Stand ready at the door,
Of, Give me “one glass more.”
Their pallid tenants scan;
And ask when they began.
The tale would crimson o'er;
And answer, « one glass more.”