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Tlir I'olhmir,;; dedication wax delivered extern I /ii.re. In Sterne, on presentini: an Almanack to Mis. Draper, prior to tier departure for India, | 'Inch she requested rni^ht he prefixed to the j Almanac. “"I’Ih- Spirit (-1 \ orirk, w hich hovers over the. heads of the goo 1 and friendless, greets tlire, all penile FJiza! and lets fall into her hands ! this present Take it, FJiza, and count thy days and months of happiness hy it. “ He good,and continue virtuous as Heaven lias made thee, and Heaven will not thwart the, ■ alcu! ation. If otherwise, still trust—lookup, took forward. Kre fate has furnished matter ir three such volumes, fortune shall come with both hands full and send thee a sweeter register of time. “O! there is a pathetic spirit, which ever tells me the. pood and gentle can never he for aaken. Sooner or later their pillows will he made as soft as their own liosonvs. May thine, Kliza, every hour of this diary, he. a proof of it Heaven he about thee wherever thou gnest. Adieu! Adieu! The spirit of Yorirk will wateh over thee, sleeping and waking—Fare—fare thee well, gentlest of women. If good betide thee, I cannot he miserable—if evil. I shall be oek of tfie world—and die a second time bro ken hearted. Alas ! poor Yorirk !” I Huge out of Mr. Cumin's Book — Curran i had often heenjuvited by lord Whitworth, when vice regal lieutenant, to bring one of his sons with him to the castle. Some time afterwards, upon the occasion of introducing Ins youngest boy, her grace the duchess of Dorset, much truck with the child, said, “ I nidi, Mr. Cur tan, you could give us a leaf out of your Look." “ That,” replied the witty barrister, *• 1 will •.lost cheerfully do;” and presenting his infant to her, said, •• Here is a pngr mur/i ut ijtmr sir i Vice. i he hint was not lost, the young gen tleman tieing instantly appointed to the very 1 '•mnrabn yast <J attendant upon the vice queen. [•S7. James Royal Jtuir. I here is a Miss Clark lecturing on American History, in Albany. She illustrates her lectures bv maps, charts, diagrams, and splendid paintings. AV e all have otir u eak and irritable moments ;— we may expciience many changes of temper and (ceding ; but let us beware of betraying such vana* 'oris in our outward conduct, if w e value the good 'emper and respect of our children ; tor these we nave no right to expect on their part, without con •stency in ours. K.PIGKAM. said Joe to the mistress of twenty tine farin'. You exceed all your sex in the depth of vour charms ! \Iy love is grounded, that nothing hut death i an conquer my love by conq’ring im breath. ' di 1 then grant your lover a smile to lie fed on, 'Yho loves—aye, loves the very ground that you “('•.•ad on POETRY. We select the following neat effusion from “The I.ay or (im riri’Di,” a volume of poems by Daniel liny an, F.sq. TfIK HOW AND SAIII.K. I Aura addressed to General [jfnjette hy a little irirl, ill whose request they were written. Croat Chief! ere jet five annual suns have shed I heir radiant beams around my infant head, 1 heard thy virtues pealed in notes of fame, And learned to love and venerate thy name. U hen told that I thy reverend face should view, I ti It the gush of joy my cheeks bedew ; Sod when the cannon’s voice and rolling drum I’roclaim’d that tl.ou, the great, the good, had't come, My little heart with glad emotions heat, And rapture bore me through the thronging street, l ilt.I my eyes thy glorious form beheld, Where shouts of greeting thousands round thee swell’d. One look of kindness, then, one smile from thee, Were worth a thousand splendid toy s to me , Hut how could I, the humblest being there, Such favour claim—such mark'd attention share 1 Distinguished men, and beauty , round thee press’d, Thy notice gain’ll—by thy regards were blessM .— There martial hands in glittering armour shone, And music breath’d in many a thrilling tone : How then could I e’en hope, on that proud day, Amid its joy s sublime, and grand array, That tin exalted thoughts, and glance benign, Should rest one moment on a tin in hke mine ? Hut still, towards thee, my eyes, my steps, were turn’d, ) And for one smile from thee my bosom hurn’il, When, pausing in thy transit through the crowd, Thy eye met mine—to me thy head was bow’d ! And from thy noble features, tree from guile, Upon me beam’d thy gentlest, tenderest, smile Still, through my heart, I feel its melting glow, And still it makes my tears of transport flow. That bow, that smile, whate’erthe unknow n fate That may my pilgrimage through lift await, Still treasured with my memory’s iidlest gems, i’ll dearer hold than queens their diadems. Those cherish’d tokens of thy kindness tell. How mildest virtue can with greatness dw ell ; How, free from proud Ambition’s da/./hng glare, The loftiest Chief, with condescending care, Can mark the movements of an humble child, Nor deem his glory of one ray despoil'd : How e’en amid the pomp, and gorgeous blaze, That speak his tame, and blind the common g.t/e, His zeal—his kind, his anxious zeal—is shown, d o make each bosom happy as his ow n. For thee, my country ’s friend ' my prayers shall rise, When, borne away from Freedom’s sheltering skies, Thou art upon the raging i.eean cast, Kxposed to yawning gtiif anil whelming blast ; And w hen, again, thou breath’st thy native clime, H< girt by Freedom’s fo< s, by chains, and ct ime, () ! may ’st thou there in health and comfort find Thy friends and all thy lured ones left behind I And soon, with these, soon may ’st thou hither come, To plant in Freedom’s soil thy final home ! Anil here may I, the gay, the happy child, I o whom the goat/ man bow’d and sill I’d, Again his coming hail—his presence greet, His smiles enjoy—his benedictions meet. UlOM THE VILLAGE R TOO HD. 1 u*ye loved—who lias not > ami the charm was dispell’d, hile my bosom the sweet little messenger held ; As the noon tide of manhood beam’d warm on my day, Like the frost-work of morning, it meltcu awav. * have \vt pt —who has not ' aid the tear as it fell lioit* with it the sorrow il at caused it to swell ; h\en grief was dissolved i;i the warm tide of tears, And remembrance was lost in the cm rent of) ears. I have err’d— w ho has not } ’tis the frailty of all, And to grieve when too late, with our “face to the Wall Ftut the wild song- of toll) rose high on the wind \nd the feeling was lost in the riot of mind. I have bow’d—who has not ^ to the H» ingabove. \\ Imse attribute niereyy is given in love ; Nor foil), nor manhood, nor ) ears as they roll, Can efface tiie blest feeling that clings to my soul rime n of Poetry in the .itlantic Souvenir, 1827 SONNKT-fllh HL’KIKl) MAID. And they have laid thee in th\ i anow cell, Ma;d of the beauteous hmw ' for the cold clay To he thy bridegroom, t.11 the eternal day, Vi'heu the loud trump its judgment peal shall swell, So be it — what the Almighty dooms is well. lint w ho that saw thine eves bright glances plav, I by cheek’s fine flush, that muck’d the bloom of M«\, So late — could dream of death’s dissolving spt II ' In rapture Love had sung—“the biisdu! hour Soon w.II I lead along wuli Hymen’s train. To bless the him lung vugin and the sw ain,” \ iul Hope believed and I glued up her bowf r. Suddt n the scene was changi d—tin radiant fluwc*! Sunk its sweet head, and lot c’s glad song was \ am (, W . (. Till- K MU'I KM. 1 lie bloom of the eastern rose is gone, In till; blushing p’ tit* of its early moin ; The form that \\ a-, light as the bounding roe, K siil! and cold as the Alpine snow ; [bright. And the glance of her rye like the diamond Is quench'd m the gloom of an rndli-ss night . Tin re are sounds ;>t wo from \a'e and s«e**p, And tlu* dead is nigli — weep, slr.tiigv weep. Weep, brother, weep — lint vet draw near, \nd gaze with me on the silent fner ; <> ' mark, as *dow I raise the veil, The altered hue of her features pale— Tome ! touch the hand that you us’d to hold. Thou shuddt rest, brother—Was it cold '* And her sunken eyes, they are clos’d in sleep Why wakes she not '—wort), brother, weep. Weep, sister, weep, for the Simoom’s blast I lath swept o’er the lov’d one’s thee us it pass’d. * And the rosy tint of her cheek lias fled, ! . For the ashen hue that marks the dead. The hand of love again may twine, \f ’.Mid her iaven locks the myrtle vine ; And the summer breeze her brow may sweej Hut she’ll wake no more—weep, sister, weep Jlllliam Cwfls.—The followin'' epitaph was written by Dr. Farmer, of Chariest >n. the inti mate friend of the late Mr. Crafts, for several years editor of the Charleston Courier, and well known as a fine writer and an accomplished scholar. He was from Vermont. Why should I touch a vesper string, Or seek a harp divine ? Can sorrow and tier shadows bring A harp so sweet as thine ? No—I can only wail thv doom . The tangled weeds 1 dress Are fitting for tire minstrel’s tomb, And sacred to distress. (ip, Crafts—go rest thine aching'head. Where envy cannot sear— Each muse shall bless thy moonlight bed. And bless thee w ith a tear.