PROGRESS OF ADVICE.

SAYS Richard to Thomas—and seemed half afraid—
'I'm thinking to marry my mistress's maid.
Now because Mrs Lucy to thee is well known,

I'll do't if thou bid'st me or let it alone.
Now don't make a jest on't; 'tis no jest to me,
In faith I'm in earnest, so prithee be free.

I have no fault to find with the girl since I knew her,
But I'd have thy advice e'er I tie myself to her.'

Says Thomas to Richard-to speak my opinion, There's not such a brute in king George's dominion; And I firmly believe, if you knew her as I do, Thou would'st choose out a whipping post first to be

tied to.

She's peevish, she's thievish, she's ugly, she's old,
And a liar and a fool and a slut and a scold.'

Next day Richard hastened to Church and was wed, And at night had informed her all Thomas had said. SHENSTONE.

LITTLE BOY BLUET.

LITTLE boy Bluet, come blow me your horn,
The cow's in the meadow, the sheep in the corn:
But where is the little boy tending his sheep?

He's under the hay-cock fast asleep.

GAMMER GURTON.

UTERE CONSILIO.

Mr Thoma,' Ricardus ait, simul anxius oris, Ancillam venit in mentem mihi ducere herilem. Quando igitur tam nota tibi sit Lucia, si tu Suaseris, hoc faciam; si non, rem prorsus omittam. Parce cachinnari; nequeo indulgere cachinnis, Seria ago: quare dic libera verba, sodalis. Nullam, ex quo novi, detexi in virgine culpam: Ante tamen vellem, quam res sit facta, moneri.'

Cui Thomas male salsus-ut omnia vera recludam,

Nulla est in toto tam bruta et sordida regno
Femina; quin credo, si tu modo tam bene noras,
Lictoris cædi virgis, quam ducere, malles.
Aspera, fur eadem, deformis, pejor ob annos,
Mendax, immunda, et stolida est, et cognita rixis.'
Postera lux oritur: Ricardus ducit amatam ;
Et monitus Thomæ sub nocte edixerat omnes!

B.

CERULE PARVE PUER.

CERULE parve puer, cornu mihi fortiter infles :
Vacca premit segetes, prata pererrat ovis:
Pro pudor! hic modus est quo, pastor, ovilia curas,
Sub fœno domitus membra sopore gravi?

F. H.

PITT.

AND thou, blest star of Europe's darkest hour,

Whose words were wisdom, and whose counsels power,
Whom earth applauded through her peopled shores;

Alas! whom earth too early lost deplores :
Young without follies, without rashness bold,
And greatly poor amidst a nation's gold;
In every veering gale of faction true,
Untarnished Chatham's genuine child, adieu!
Unlike our common suns, whose gradual ray
Expands from twilight to intenser day,

Thy blaze broke forth at once in full meridian sway.

O proved in danger! not the fiercest flame

Of discord's rage thy constant soul could tame;

Not when, far-striding o'er thy palsied land,
Gigantic treason took his bolder stand;

Not when wild zeal, by murderous faction led,
On Wicklow's hills her grass-green banner spread;

Or those stern conquerors of the restless wave
Defied the native soil they wont to save.—

Undaunted Patriot! in that dreadful hour,

When pride and genius own a stronger power; When the dimmed eyeball and the struggling breath,

And pain and terror mark advancing death;

PATER PATRIÆ.

UNICA crescentes Europa stella tenebras
Dispulit, et brevis est gentibus orta salus:
O si nunc illo poteretur lumine tellus!

Heu! demptum longis luctibus orba gemit.
Consiliis vires inerant, sapientia linguæ:

Nulla foris metuit, nulla pericla domi. Fortis nil temere est, juvenis nil ausus inepte: Et pauper patrias audiit inter opes. O rerum variis, invicte, infesse, procellis; Illustri soboles digna parente, vale!

Fulsisti, non ceu qui tarda crepuscula linquens Paulatim educit clarius usque jubar:

Extulit en subito tua se, et mortalibus ægris

Integra maturo profuit igne dies.

Adfuit in quovis animus discrimine; vel cum
Seditio rabidum tolleret atra caput;
Şeu conjurati in campis viridantis Iernes
Civili gererent impia bella manu;

Sive ille, Oceani domitor, queis sueverat hostem
Opprimere, in patrios verteret arma duces.
Illa etiam, quæ certa supervenit omnibus hora,
Gloria cui demum cedit et ingenium;

Qua victum cruciat dolor et metus ille futuri;

Torpet cæca acies; pectora anhela tremunt;

Still in that breast thy country held her throne,

Thy toil, thy fear, thy prayer were her's alone,
Thy last faint effort her's, and her's thy parting groan.

HEBER.

THE PIRATE'S FAREWELL.

FAREWELL! farewell!-the voice you hear
Has left its last soft tone with you;
Its next must join the seaward cheer
And shout among the shouting crew.

The accents, which I scarce could form
Beneath your frown's controlling check,
Must give the word, above the storm,

To cut the mast and clear the wreck.

The timid eye I dared not raise,

The hand that shook when pressed to thine,

Must point the guns upon the chase,

Must bid the deadly cutlass shine.

To all I love or hope or fear,
Honour or own-a long adieu !
To all that life has soft and dear,
Farewell-save memory of you!

SCOTT.