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"Oh! the fiends!" she exclaim'd, and with wild

horror started,
Then thro' the tall fern, loudly screaming, she darted;
With an overcharg'd bosom, 1 slowly departed,
And sigh'd for the wrongs of poor Mary le More.

FRIENDSHIP.

BY MISS STRETFIELD.

Distill'd amidst the gloom of night,
Dark hangs the dew-drop on the thorn,

Till, notic'd by approaching light,
It glitters in the smile of morn.

Morn soon retires: her feeble power
The Sun out-beams with geuial day,

And gently, in benignant hour,
Exhales the liquid pearl away.

Thus, on Affliction's sable bed,
Deep sorrows rise, of saddest hue;

Condensing round the mourner's head,
They bathe the cheek with chilly dew.

Though Pity shews her dawn from heaven,
When kind she points assistance near,

To Friendship's sun alone 'tis given
To soothe and dry the mourner's tear.

A RIDDLE.

Blithe Aphrodite, ever young,
Was shapen from the foam of sea:

Of purer crystal I am sprung,

And smoother billows fashion'd me.

Cupid and I both bend our bows,
By Beauty's temples both incline;He o'er his eyes a bandage throws;
A twofold lustre gleams from mine.

Like him, the fringed brow I seek,
And aid each lurking charm to spy;

Like him, I pillow on the cheek,
And nestle near the languid eye.

A quiver on his shoulder shines,
In rattling case my powers I hide:

In couples, he the young confines;
In pairs, a graver throng I guide.

Of him let head-long Passion learn:
Philosophy learns much through me.

Can you not yet my name discern— I've help'd you, I suspect, to see?

PASTORAL BALLAD,

BY ANNA SEWARD.

O! Share my cottage, dearest Maid,

Beneath a mountain, wild and high,
It nestles in a silent glade,

And a clear river wanders by;
Each tender care, each honest art

Shall chase all future want from thee,
If thy sweet lips consent impart

To climb these craggy hills with me.

Far from the City's vain parade

No scornful brow shall there be seen;
No dull impertinence invade,

Nor Envy base, nor sullen Spleen;
The shadowy rocks, that circle round,

From storms shall guard our sylvan cell,
And there shall every Joy be found

That loves in peaceful vales to dwell.

When late the tardy Sun shall peer

And faintly gild yon little Spire;
When nights are long, and frosts severe,

And our clean hearth is bright with fire,
Sweet tales to read, sweet songs to sing!—r

O! they shall drown the wind and rain, E'en till the soften'd Year shall bring

Merry Spring-time back again |

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Then hawthorns, flowering in the Glen,

Shall guard the warbling feather'd Throng; Nor boast the busy haunts of Men

So fair a scene, so sweet a song.
Thy arms the new-yean'd Lamb will shield,

And to the sunny shelter bear,
While o'er the rough and breathing field

My hands impel the gleaming Share.

Ne'er doubt our wheaten ears will rise,

And full their yellow harvest glow, Then taste with me the sprightly joys

That Love, and Industry bestow; Their jocund power shall banish Strife;

Her clouds no passing day will see, Since all the leisure hours of life

Shall still be spent in pleasing thee.

THE EXCHANGE OF HEARTS.

We pledg'd our hearts, my love and I,
I in my arms the maiden clasping;

I could not guess the reason why,
But, oh! I trembled like an aspen.

Her father's leave she bade me gain;

I went, but shook like any reed!
I strove to act the man—in vain!We had exchang'd our hearts indeed.

8. T. C.

EPITAPH

On Mrs. De Medina, Wife of Solomon De Medina, Esq. of Stoke Newington,

3Y THE REV. T. MAURICE,

Let shiouded Grandeur o'er her sleeping dust
Swell the proud pile, and rear the breathing bust 3
But when at length the trophy'd splendors fade,
And marbles mingle with that dust they shade,
Virtue still towers, eternal and sublime,
Above the rage of Fate, the wrecks of Time I
Thro' ages shines with undiminish'd beam,
And pours thro' Death's dark vault a chearing gleam.
The sainted shade, whose dust lies here inurn'd,
With all her genuine fires impassion'd burn'd!
Heav'n too its choicest noblest gift bestow'd,
And in her soul the flame of Genius glow'd!
How bright the meed, when Virtue, Genius join
Around the tomb the double wreathe to twine;
How firm the adamantine structure stands,
Rear'd to the just by their immortal hands!
Blest spirit! that now roam'st yon azure fields,
What mingled pangs and joy remembrance yields;
As all thy merits, all thy suff'rings rise,
In long review before our wond'ring eyes!
These, great as e'er thy lovely kind possess'd,
Those, dire as ever rack'd the human breast!
Thro' all triumphant beam'd th' unshaken mind,
In life unspotted, and in death resign'd!

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