Who dared your rudely-painted limbs oppose
To Chalybean steel and Roman foes:
And ye of later age, though not less fame,
In tilt and tournament, the princely game
Of Arthur's barons, wont, by hardiest sport,
To claim the fairest guerdon of the court;
Say, holy Shades, did e'er your generous blood
Roll through your faithful sons in nobler flood
Than late, when George bade gird on every thigh
The myrtle-braided sword of Liberty?
Say, when the high-born Druids' magic strain
Roused, on old Mona's top, a female train
To madness, and with more than mortal rage
Bade them, like Furies, in the fight engage;
Frantic when each unbound her bristling hair,
And shook a flaming torch, and yell'd in wild despair';
Or when in Cressy's plain the sable might

Of Edward dared four monarchs to the fight;

Say, holy Shades, did patriotic heat

In your quick hearts with quicker transport beat

Than in your sons, when forth, like storms, they pour'd,
In Freedom's cause, the fury of the sword?
Who ruled the main, or gallant armies led;

With Hawke who conquer'd, or with Wolfe who bled?
Poor is his triumph, and disgraced his name,
Who draws the sword for empire, wealth, or fame:
For him, though wealth be blown on every wind,
Though fame announce him mightiest of mankind,
Though twice ten nations crouch beneath the blade,
Virtue disowns him, and his glories fade:"
For him no prayers are pour'd, no pæans sung,
No blessings chanted from a nation's tongue:
Blood marks the path to his untimely bier;
The curse of widows, and the orphan's tear,
Cry to high heaven for vengeance on his crimes:
The pious Muse, who, to succeeding times,
Unknowing flattery, and unknown to kings,
Fair Virtue only and her votaries sings,
Shall show the monster in his hideous form,
And mark him as an earthquake or a storm.

Not so the patriot chief, who dared withstand The base invader of his native land;

Who made her weal his noblest, only end;

Ruled, but to serve her; fought, but to defend;
"Her voice in council, and in war her sword;
Loved as her father, as her God adored;'
Who, firmly virtuous, and severely brave,
Sunk with the freedom that he could not save!
On worth like his the Muse delights to wait,
Reveres alike in triumph or defeat;

Crowns with true glory and with spotless fame,
And honours Paoli's more than Cæsar's name.

Here let the Muse withdraw the blood-stain'd veil,
And show the boldest son of public zeal:
Lo! Sidney, pleading o'er the block! his mien,
His voice, his hand, unshaken, clear, serene :
Yet no harangue, proudly declaim'd aloud,
To gain the plaudit of a wayward crowd;
No specious vaunt death's terrors to defy,
Still death delaying, as afraid to die;
But sternly silent, down he bow'd, and proved
A calm, firm martyr to the cause he loved.
Unconquer'd patriot! form'd by ancient lore
The love of ancient freedom to restore;
Who nobly acted what he boldly thought,
And seal'd by death the lesson that he taught.

Dear is the tie that links the anxious sire
To the fond babe that prattles round his fire;
Dear is the love that prompts the grateful youth
His sire's fond cares and drooping age to soothe:
Dear is the brother, sister, husband, wife;
Dear all the charities of social life:

Nor wants firm Friendship holy wreaths to bind
In mutual sympathy the faithful mind:

But not th' endearing springs that fondly move
To filial duty, or parental love;

Not all the ties that kindred bosoms bind,
Nor all in friendship's holy wreaths entwined,

Are half so dear, so potent to control
The generous workings of the patriot soùl,
As is that holy voice, that cancels all

These ties, that bids him for his country fall.

Nor yet doth Glory, though her port be bold,
Her aspect radiant, and her tresses gold,
Guide through the walks of death alone her car,
Attendant only on the din of war;

She ne'er disdains the gentle vale of Peace,
Or olive shades of philosophic ease,

Where heaven-taught minds to woo the Muse resort,
Create in colours, or in sounds transport;

Where youths court science, or where sages teach;
Where statesmen plan, where mitred fathers preach;
More pleased on Isis' silent marge to roam,
Than bear in pomp the spoil of battles home;
To read, with Newton's ken, the starry sky,
And God the same in all his orbs descry;
To lead forth Merit from her humble shade,
Extend to rising arts a patron's aid;
Build the nice structure of the generous Law,
That holds the freeborn soul in willing awe;
To swell the sail of Trade, the barren plain
To bid with fruitage blush, and wave with grain :
O'er pale Misfortune drop, with anxious sigh,
Pity's mild balm, and wipe Affliction's eye:
These, these are deeds Britannia must approve,
Must nurse their growth with all a parent's love;
These are the deeds that public Virtue owns,
And, just to public virtue, Glory crowns.

Bishop Butson.

THREE ANECDOTES.

SHENSTONE.

SHENSTONE, the poet, was one day walking through his romantic retreats, in company with his Delia (her real name was Wilmot): they were going towards the bower which he made sacred to the ashes of Thomson. "Would to heaven," said Shenstone, pointing to the trees, "that Delia could be happy in the midst of these rustic avenues!" He would have gone on, but was interrupted. A person rushed out of a thicket, and, presenting a pistol to his breast, demanded his money. Shenstone was surprised, and Delia fainted. " Money,' said he, "is not worth struggling for: you cannot be poorer than I am. Unhappy man!" said he, throwing him his purse, "take it, and fly as quick as possible.' The man did so. He threw his pistol into the water, and in a moment disappeared. Shenstone ordered the foot-boy, who followed behind them, to pursue the robber at a distance, and observe whither he went. In two hours time the boy returned, and informed his master, that he followed him to Hales-Owen, where he lived; that he went to the very door of his house, and peeped through the key-hole; that, as soon as the man entered, he threw the purse on the ground, and, addressing himself to his wife, "Take," said he, "the dear-bought price of my honesty;" then placing two of his children, one on each knee, he said to them, "I have ruined my soul to keep you from starving;" and This tale of immediately burst into a flood of tears. distress greatly affected Shenstone. He inquired after the man's character, and found that he was a labourer, honest and industrious, but oppressed by want and a numerous family. He went to his house, where the man kneeled down at his feet, and implored mercy. Shenstone carried him home to assist at the buildings, and other improvements, which made himself so poor;

and, when Shenstone died, this labourer bedewed his grave with true tears of gratitude.

NELL GWYNN.

The early part of the life of Eleanor Gwynn is little. known. Having a very pleasing voice, she used to go. from tavern to tavern, to amuse different companies with songs after dinner; this procured her an engagement at Drury-lane, where king Charles first saw her. She had her influence over him till not many hours before he died, for he begged the duke of York" to be mindful of poor Nell!"

She resided at a splendid house in St. James's square, the back room of which, on the ground floor, was (within memory) covered with looking-glasses over the chimney was a beautiful picture of herself; in another room was that of her sister. In this house she died, in the year 1691, and was pompously interred in the parish church of St. Martin's in the Fields; Dr. Tennison, the then vicar, and finally archbishop of Canterbury, preaching her funeral sermon.

The sermon was afterwards brought forward at court by lord Jersey, to impede the doctor's preferment; but queen Mary having heard the objection, answered, "Well! and what then? This I have heard before, and it is a proof that the unfortunate woman died a true penitent, who through the course of her life never let the wretched ask in vain.".

THE DIFFERENCE OF AN OATH.

The oath used among the Highlanders in judicial proceedings under the feudal system contained a most solemn denunciation of vengeance in case of perjury, and involved the wife and children, with the arable and the meadow land of the party who took it, altogether in one abyss of destruction. When it was administered, there was no book to be kissed, but the right hand was held up while the oath was repeated. The superior idea of sanctity which this imprecation conveyed to those accustomed to it, may be judged from the expression of