And lo! his steede did thin to smoke,
And charnel fires outbreathe;
And pal'd, and bleach'd, then vanish'd quite
The mayde from undernethe.
And hollow howlings hung in aire,
And shrekes from vaults arosė.
Then knew the mayde she might no more
Her living eyes unclose.
But onwarde to the judgement-seat,
Thro' myste and moonlighte dreare,
The gostlie crewe their flyghte persewe,
And hollowe in her eare:T
"Be patient; tho' thyne herte shoulde breke,
Arrayne not Heven's decree;
Thou nowe art of thie bodie refte,
Thie soule forgiven bee!"
Mr. SURREBUTTER'S Commencement in bis Legal Career. From the PLEADER'S GUIDE, a Didactic Puem in two books.
HOE'ER has drawn a Special Plea,
Has heard of old TOM TEWKESBURY,
Deaf as a post, and thick as Mustard,
He aim'd at Wit, and bawl'd and bluster'd,
And died a Nisi prius Leader-
That Genius was my SPECIAL PLEADER-
That great man's office I attended,
By HAWK and BUZZARD recommended,
Attornies both of wond'rous skill.
To pluck the Goose and drive the Quill;
Three years I sat his smoky room in,
Pens, paper, ink, and pounce consuming.
The fourth, when Essoign Day begun,
Joyful I hail'd th' auspicious Sun,
Bade TEWKESBURY and Clerk adieu,
(Purification, Eighty-two)
Of both I wash'd my hands; and though
With nothing for ny cash to shew,
But Precedents so scrawl'd and blurr'd,
I scarce could read one single word,
Nor in my books of Common Place
One feature of the law could trace,
Save BUZZARD's nose and visage thin,
And Hawk's deficiency of Chim,
Which I while lolling at my ease
Was wont to draw instead of Pleas;
My chambers I equipt complete,
Made Friends, hir'd Books, and gave to eat;
If haply to regale my friends on,
My Mother sent a haunch of Ven'son,
I most respectfully intreated
The choicest Company to eat it,
To wit, old BuZZARD, HAWK, and Crow,
Item, Том ТHORNBACK, SHARK, and Co.
Attorneys all as keen and staunch
As e'er devour'd a Client's haunch;
Nor did I not their Clerks invite
To taste said ven'son hash'd at night,
For well I knew that hopeful Fry
My rising merit would descry,
The same litigious course pursue,
And when to fish of prey they grew,
By love of food and contest led,
Would haunt the spot where once they fed;
Thus having with due circumspection
Form'd my professional connexion,
My desk with precedents I strew'd,
Turn'd critic, danc'd, or penn'd an ode,
Studied the Ton, became a free
And easy man of Gallantry:
But if while capering at my Glass,
Or toying with some fav'rite Lass,
I heard the aforesaid Hawk a coming,
Or BUZZARD on the stair-case humming,
At once the fair angelic maid
Into my Coal-hole I convey'd,
At once with serious look profound,
Mine eyes commercing with the ground,
I seem'd like one estrang'd to sleep,
" And fix'd in cogitation deep,"
Sat motionless, and in my hand I
Held my Doctrina Placitandi,
And though I never read a page in't,
Thanks to that shrewd well-judging Agent,
My Sister's husband, Mr. SHARK,
Soon got six Pupils and a Clerk,
Five Pupilo were my stint, the other
I took to compliment his Mother;
All round me came with ready money
Like Hybla bees surcharg'd with honey,
Which, as they press'd it so genteelly,
And begg'd me to accept so freely,
Seem'd all so fond of SPECIAL PLEADING,
And all so certain of succeeding,
I, who am always all compliance,
As well to Pupils as to Clients,
Took as genteelly as they paid it,
And freely to my purse convey'd it;
That I might practically shew,
And they in special manner know
Ere they began their Pleas to draw,
What an ASSUMPSIT meant in Law-
To wit, for divers weighty sums
Of lawful cash at Pleader's Rooms,
By me said Pleader, as was prudent,
Had and received to use of Student;
In short, I acted as became me,
And where's the Pleader that can blame me?
Not one of all the trade, that I know,
E'er fails to take the Ready-rino,
Which haply, if this purse receive,
No human art ean e'er retrieve.
Sooner-when Gallia's credit's flown
To some Utopian world unknown,
ASTREA shall on earth remain
The last of the celestial train,
To tender Assignats at Par
Triumphant in the Champ de Mar',
And when their deep-laid projects fail,
And Guillotines no more avail,
Her baffled Statesmen shall excise
Some new found region in the skies,
And tow'ring in an air balloon,
Pluck Requisitions from the Moon ;-
Sooner the daring wights who go
Down to the watery world below,
Shall force old Neptune to disgorge
And vomit up the ROYAL GEORGE;-
Than He who hath his bargain made
And legally his cash convey'd,
Shall e'er his pocket reimburse,
By diving in a Lawyer's Purse.
Address to Forgetfulness. From MERRY's Pains of Memory. A Pres.
HOU too, forgetfulness! whose opiate charm
Can hush the passions, and their rage disarm;
Approach, O kindly grant thy suppliant, aid!
Wrap him in sweet oblivion's placid shade;
Veil the gay, transitory scenes that fled
Like gleamy sunshine o'er the mountain's head;
Sink in the dark abyss of endless night
The artificial phantoms of delight;
Nor let his early ign'rance, and mistake,
The sober bliss of age and reason shake.
Hide from his heart each suffering country's woe,
And o'er its chains thy cov'ring mantle throw;
Hide yon deluded agonizing train,
Who bleed by thousands on the purple plain;
Their piercing cries, their dying groans controul,
And lock up all the feelings of his soul.
Shield him from slander's persecuting race,
Who seek to wound, and labour to disgrace,
Who view the humblest worth with jealous eye,
The viper brood of black malignity!
So shall, perchance, content with thee return,
'Mongst vernal sweets to raise his wintry urn;
To his retreat tranquillity repair,
" And freedom dwell a pensive hermit there."
O! in retirement may he rest at last,
The present, calm, forgotten all the past;
Beside the babbling brook at twilight's close,
Taste the soft solace of the mind's repose;
List the lorn nightingale's impressive lay,
That soothes the evening of retiring May,
When the young moon her paly flag displays,
And o'er the stream the panting zephyr strays;
No heedless hours recall'd, no festive roar,
That once deluded, but can please no more ;
No wild emotions bid his comforts cease,
Or from his cottage drive the angel peace;
Nor vain ambition tempt his thoughts anew,
But still preserve the friendship of the few;
Still, still preserve the fond domestic smile,
Of her, whose voice can ev'ry care beguile;
With meek philosophy his hours employ,
Or thrilling Poetry's delicious joy;
And from the faded promises of youth,
Retain the love of liberty and truth.
Sacred to the Memory of Penelope. By Sir Brook Boothby, Bart.
THOUGH since my date of woe long years have roll'd,
Darkness ne'er draws the curtains round my head,
Nor orient morning opes her eyes of gold,
But grief pursues my walks, or haunts my bed.
Visions, in sleep, their tristful shapes unfold;
Show Misery living, Hope and Pleasure dead,
Pale shrouded beauty, kisses faint and cold,
Or murmur words the parting angels said.
Thoughts, when awake, their wonted trains renew;
With all their stings my tortured breast assail;
Her faded form now glides before my view;
Her plaintive voice now floats upon the gale.
The hope how vain, that time should bring relief!
Time does but deeper root a real grief.
DESCRIPTION OF THE PERSON AND HABITATION OF DESPAIR
From Scuthey's Joan of Arc. An Epic Poem.
Sat near, seated on what in long-past days
Had been some sculptured monument, now fall'n
And half-obscured by moss, and gathered heaps
Of withered yew-leaves and earth-mouldering bones:
And shining in the ray was seen the track
Of slimy snail obscene. Composed his look,
His eye was large and rayless, and fix'd full
Upon the Maid; the blue flames on his face
Stream'd a drear light; his face was of the hue
Of death: his limbs were mantled in a shroud.
Then with a deep heart-terrifying voice,
Exclaim'd the spectre, "Welcome to these realms,
These regions of DESPAIR! O thon whose steps
By GRIEF conducted to these sad abodes
Have pierc'd; welcome, welcome to this gloom
Eternal; to this everlasting night;
Where never morning darts the enlivening ray,
Where never shines the sun, but all is dark,
Dark as the bosom of their gloomy king!"
So saying he arose, and by the hand
The virgin seized with such a death-cold touch
As froze her very heart; and drawing on,
Her, to the abbey's inner ruin, led.
Resistless: through the broken roof the moon
Glimmer'd a scatter'd ray: the ivy twin'd
Round the dismantled column: imaged forms
Of saints and warlike chiefs, moss-canker'd now
And mutilate, lay strewn upon the ground;
With crumbled fragments crucifixes fallen,
And rusted trophies; and amid the heap
Some monument's defaced legend spake
All human glory vain.
Amid the pile; and from the tower the owl
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