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Day.

Come, kinsman (said the little god),
Put off your wings; lay by your rod;
Retire with me to yonder bower,
And rest yourself for half an hour:
'Tis far indeed from hence to heav'n:
And you fly fast: and 'tis but seven.
We'll take one cooling cup of nectar;
And drink to this celestial Hector.-Mercury.

Births.

Deaths.

Prid. Bonaventure Vulcanius, 1538, Archbishop (Gawin), Dunbar,

Cal.

30.

1547.

Bruges.
John Wilson, 1780, Lesmahago. Cardinal Baronius, 1607.

When I see kings lying by those who deposed them, when I consider rival wits placed side by side, or the holy men who divided the world with their contentions, I reflect with sorrow and astonishment on the little factions of mankind. When I

read the dates, of some that died yesterday, and some six hundred years ago, I consider that great day when we shall all of us be contemporaries, and make our appearance together.-Addison.

Obits of the Latin Church. St. Paul, the Apostle, Martyr at the Salvian Waters, Rome,

A. D. 65.

St. Martial, 1st Bishop of Limoges, 3rd Century.

Alexander Brome, 1666.
Archibald Campbell, 9th Earl
of Argyll, 1685. beheaded,
Market Cross, Edinburgh.
Dr. Adam Littleton, 1694.

Chelsea.

Sir Thomas Pope Blount, 1697. Ridge.

Dr. Thomas Edwards, 1785. d.

Nuneaton.

Richard Parker, hanged, 1797.

exposed, Isle of Shepey. Victor Emanuel, (of Sardinia), 1821. d. Cagliari. Reverend Henry Kett, 1825. drowned, Stanwell. Clement Joseph Tissot, 1826. d. Paris. Colonel Dixon Denham, 1828.

Men laugh at the follies of themselves past, when they come suddenly to remembrance, except they bring with them any present dishonour.-Hobbes.

A patron who shall have defrauded his client shall be execrable.

Twelve Tables.

So Virtue, given for lost,

Depress'd, and overthrown, as seem'd
Like that self-begotten bird

In the Arabian woods embost

That no second knows nor third,

And lay ere while a holocaust,

From out her ashy womb reflourishes;

And, though her body die, her fame survives

A secular bird ages of lives.---Samson Agonistes.

Acts.

THE Hyacinthia of three days were celebrated at Amyclæ, in the month Hecatombæon, to the memory of Hyacinthus, with games in honour of Apollo, who cracked the crown of his young pupil, by a powerful stroke of his quoit, aided (it is said) by a wicked puff of Zephyrus.

A Roman festival of dedication to Hercules and the Muses. A colossal statue was erected to "the bravest and the wisest Greek," B. C. 312, during the censorship of Appius Claudius, the blind, who built the celebrated Road. According to Dionysius, the club-bearer was the father of Pallas, by Launa, a daughter of Evander. Among the Sabines (his original worshippers in Italy) he was called Semo Sancus. The white poplar was dedicated to this laborious hero.-See 11th August.

Henry VIII. embarks with his forces at Dover for the invasion of France, appointing "his most dear consort, Queen Catharine, rectrix and governor of the realm," 1513.

A plague at Stratford in the year of the great poet's birth, 1564.

The victory under the walls of Oudenarde, on the Scheld, 1708. The Elector of Hanover (George II.), who fought with Marlborough, narrowly escaped: a ball struck down his horse, and Colonel Laschky was shot, at another time, dead by his side.

Evelyn notes: "I went with a select committee of the commissioners for GREENWICH HOSPITAL, and with Sir Christopher Wren, where with him I laid the first stone of the intended foundation, precisely at five o'clock in the evening, after we had dined together. Mr. Flamsteed, the King's astronomical professor, observing the punctual time by instruments," 1696. The subscriptions were £9046 13s. 4d. King William, with great munificence, placed his name on the list for £2,000. It is now middle-winter at the Cape of Good Hope.

If in this I err, that I think the souls of men immortal, I err with pleasure; nor will ever, whilst I live, be forced out of an opinion with which I am so much delighted. Cicero.

With a matron grace.-Burns.

As Julia once a slumb'ring lay,
It chanc'd a bee did fly that way,
After a dew, or dew-like shower,
To tipple freely in a flower;

For some rich flower, he took the lip

Of Julia, and began to sip;

But when he felt he suck'd from thence

Honey, and in the quintessence;

He drank so much he scarce could stir;

So Julia took the pilferer:
And thus surpris'd, as filchers use,
He thus began himself t'excuse:
Sweet lady-flower! I never brought
Hither the least one thieving thought;
But taking those rare lips of yours
For some fresh, fragrant, luscious flowers,
I thought I might there take a taste,
Where so much syrup ran at waste:
Besides, know this, I never sting
The flow'r that gives me nourishing;
But with a kiss, or thanks, do pay
For honey that I bear away.
This said, he laid his little scrip
Of honey, 'fore her ladyship,

And told her, as some tears did fall,

That, that he took, and that was all.
At which she smil'd, and bade him go
And take his bag, but thus much know,
When next he came a pilfering so,
He should from her full lips derive
Honey enough to fill his hive.-The Bee.

Under the Protection of Jupiter.

Ut pariter nobis corpus cum sanguine crescit.---Lucretius.

THOU too, O Earth, great Rhea said, bring forth;
And short shall be thy pangs: she said, and high
She rear'd her arm, and with her sceptre struck
The yawning cliff: from its disparted height
Adown the mount the gushing torrent ran,

And cheer'd the vallies: there the heavenly mother

Bath'd, mighty King, thy tender limbs: she wrapt them

In purple bands: she gave the precious pledge
To prudent Neda, and smiling she receiv'd thee.
Thee God, to Cnossus Neda brought the nymphs
And Corybantes thee their sacred charge
Receiv'd: Adraste rock'd thy golden cradle :
The Goat, now bright amidst her fellow-stars,
Kind Amalthea, reach'd her teat distent
With milk, thy early food: the sedulous Bee
Distill'd her honey on thy purple lips.-Callimachus.

IN silent horror o'er the boundless waste
The driver, Hassan, with his camels past:
One cruise of water on his back he bore,
And his light scrip contain'd a scanty store.
The sultry sun had gain'd the middle sky,

And not a tree, and not an herb was nigh.

With desperate sorrow wild, th' affrighted man

Thrice şigh'd, thrice struck his breast, and thus began:

Ye mute companions of my toils, that bear

In all my griefs a more than equal share!

In vain ye hope the green delights to know,

Which plains more blest, or verdant vales, bestow :
Here rocks alone, and tasteless sands, are found,
And faint and sickly winds for ever howl around.
Sad was the hour, and luckless was the day,
When first from Schiraz' walls I bent my way!
The Camel-driver.

Making his way between the cup and golden diadem.---Spenser.

AWAKE, awake, my Lyre!
And tell thy silent master's humble tale,

In sounds that may prevail;

Sounds that gentle thoughts inspire:

Though so exalted she,

And I so lowly be,

Tell her, such different notes make all thy harmony.

Hark! how the strings awake:

And, though the moving hand approach not near,
Themselves with awful fear,

A kind of numerous trembling make.

Now all thy forces try,

Now all thy charms apply,

Revenge upon her ear the conquests of her eye.

Weak, Lyre! thy virtue sure

Is useless here, since thou art only found

To cure, but not to wound,

And she to wound, but not to cure.

Too weak too wilt thou prove

My passion to remove,

Physick to other ills, thou'rt nourishment to love.

Sleep, sleep again, my Lyre!

For thou can'st never tell my humble tale

In sounds that will prevail;

Nor gentle thoughts in her inspire:

All thy vain mirth lay by,

Bid thy strings silent lie,

Sleep, sleep again, my Lyre! and let thy master die.

David's Serenade.

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