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ed.-The way that leads to it is eafy; and this fuccefs proves that Mr. Bourret was right in his notions.
The two hardy travellers, in their way back, difcovered a chryftal oven, where they could not go for want of time. They alfo perceived, at the height of fixty or eighty fathoms above them, another peak, which they were compelled to leave unexplored, as they wanted both leifure and inftruments to cut steps on the ice that furrounded it
on all fides. By the report of those two men, and the measurement of the top of the Mont Blanc, they reached to the height of 2,346 fathoms.
The reafon given by Mr. Bourret why the heat experienced by the two travellers fhould act fo powerfully on the body, and yet not diffolve the fnow, is, that the amazing whitenes of the latter repels the rays of the fun, which, on the contrary, are entirely ab forbed by the body.
The most favourite SONGS, &c. in the new Pantomime of the MAGIC CAVERN; OR, VIRTUE'S TRIUMPH; performed at Covent-Garden Theatre.
SONG. Mifs BRETT.
SOME, fhow me your palm, my fweet lafs,
Full as clear and as well,
As you fee that sweet face in the glass.
A hufband you'll have, I fee, foon,
You'll meet him to-day,
Of children you'll have a round dozen,,
As this pretty blue vein.
And by ev'ry degree,
Like O.d England's, be lov'd and far fam'd.
AI R.Mr. DAVIES.
THE noble mind for fame will dare,
By fea or land to die;
With myrtle garlands bound;
CHORU S. HAIL, female virtue! gift divine, Be still thy matchlefs treasure mine; A virtuous woman's price is more Than gold or precious ruby's ftore; For when the gems of earth expire, She lights the kies with purest fire;
A Maid of Honour is a maid indeed!
While fhe, like Cato, finds from each adorer
And at the altar's foot the maid forfake,
F truth, if virtue, innocence, and grace, May in celeftial records claim a place, Linley, thy name is, with an angel's pen, Written on golden leaves by fainted men! If wit, if beauty, modefty, and fense, Metearth's applaufe, or heav'n's high recompenfe: If e'er an angel left the folar fphere, To fix in wonder every eye and ear, *Twas thee, Maria-whofe fuperior grace Prov'd thee defcended of celestial race; Prov'd thee defign'd to mitigate our care, And raise our minds to know what angels are! Maria dear, adieu: and from th' abode Of faints, beftow thy light to point the road; That by thy radiance we may gain thy sky, And pafs with thee a blefs'd Eternity.
Content to competency known,
While competency ftill nice management must Much more of fweetness than of beauty,
My mufe would on the fair beftow, And prove it every author's duty,
To feparate fterling truth from fhow. Would you be happy-form reliance, Much more on virtue, than on fcience;
On friendship more than tendernefs; On conduct more than wit refin'd;
On health much more than wealth to blefs; On profit lefs than peace of mind.
A fmall eftate from mortgage free,
Their hours with feftive joy elate,
From hence this truth we clearly trace,
Too much of wealth a burthen proves,
If aided by one faving clause,
By a mere nothing in our caufe. Yes! mighty nothing, thee we hail,
Since a mere nothing rules the roast, In war, love, law, whate'er the colt, A very nothing turns the fcale. A nothing wins upon the great, By nothing we the fair may gain A nothing gives our talents weight, A very nothing turns our brain. Thus to a nothing, or a hair, Hangs the fuccefs of all our care. A nothing gilds hope's flattering scene; A nothing wakes to dire alarms; Speak, Love! whofe tranfient fires are feen, Now bright, now quench'd in Chloe's arms.
In the manner and perfon of PETRARCH. AH, dear Vauclue! romantic, fylvan feat
Fair manfion! Queen of y tequetter'd vale! Where mild retirement in her green retreat
Shuns the rude ftorms that lofty pomp affail, When oft her air-built fchemes and follies fail Shuns the amufements of the court and town,
Where the luxurious vanities refide;
And the vile croud adore y meteor blaze of pride. Adieu, ye breezy buw'rs, and em'rald glades!
Ye myrtle walks! ye fummer-painted plains! Adieu, fweet tenant of the poplar fhades, Soothing the ear of night with plaintive strains, Adieu, ye fleecy ficcks, and thepherd fwains!
Adieu, ye Naiads! from the wat'ry war
I go, where Mincio, in the fav'rite land,
Where olives border on the limpid lakes;
Enchanting image!-at the noon of night, Dreaming I faw this animated fmile; BRITANNIA's beauties ftood before my fight, With LAURA, copied in the fea-girt ifle; Applaufe had crown'd the artist's happy toil; 'Tis the, they cried, the celebrated fair;
LAURA refounding thro' th' admiring throng; They mark the foreign grace, and easy air,
And brilliant eyes, that oft infpired the poet's fong.
To paint with fading tints celcftial bloom?
O'er feas or Alps, let other artifts roam,
But I have ever found it beft,
T'affociate with the strongest fide.
I care not who is in or out,
Who reigns, who keeps the Treafury's keys; By trimming with the times, I live With plenty crown'd, and bleit with ease. Obedient to the ruling pow'rs,
Whoe'er they be, fubmifs, I bend,
Thofe who, with narrownefs of mind,
A rigid Roman's fteady part,
I in a different mould am caft,
Am made of more compliant clay; Like good Lord WINCHESTER ‡ I rife, And firmly ftand by giving way.
By Mifs HELEN WILLIAMS.
Mnd bring the hour my pensive fpiritloves
That gives to ftillnefs, and to night, the groves.
And rapture tremble in the vocal fhade:
At which her bloffoms clofe, her mufic dies: For then mild nature, while fhe droops her head, Wakes the foft tear his luxury to fhed.
To Mifs WILLIAM S, On her Epic Poem PERU.
He view'd even Raphael's works, with confcious PETIC Sister, who, with daring hand,
And "I'm a painter ftill," the artist cry'd!t LOND. MAG. Feb. 1785.
Ere thy fourth luftres laft foft year is flown, Haft feiz'd the epic lyre-with art divine; Wak'd on its golden ftrings each spirit bland! Or
* The canon or ftandard of beauty, formed by Polycletus.
The Marquis of Winchester, Queen Elizabeth's Lord Treafurer, having ferved four princes in various and changeable times, and being grown into high favour with the laft, was questioned by an intimate friend of his, how he had ftood up for thirty years together, amidit the change and ruins of fo many chancellors and great perfonages. His reply was brief and oracular Ortus fum efalice, non e quercu-1 fprung from the willow not the oak.”
Where grafs and flowers in wild luxuriance wave; Let no memorial mark where I am laid,
Or point to common eyes the lover's grave: But oft at twilight morn, or clofing day,
The faithful friend with fault'ring step fhall glide,
Tributes of fond regret by ftealth to pay,
And figh for the unhappy fuicide. And fometimes, when the fun with parting rays Gilds the long grafs that hides my filent bed, The tear fhall tremble in my Charlotte's eyes;
Dear precious drops! they shall embalm ý dead. Yes! Charlotte o'er the mournful spot fhall weep, Where her poor Werter and his forrows fleep!
From PETRARC H. By Mifs SMITH, of Bignor-Hall. LOOSE to the wind her golden treffes ftream'd,
And form'd bright waves with amorous zephyrs' fighs;
And, tho' averted now, her charming eyes Then with warm love and melting pity beam'dWas I deceiv'd?-Ah, furely, nymph divine!
That fine fuffufion on thy cheek was love; What wonder then thofe glowing tints fhould move, Should fire this heart, this tender heart of mine! Thy foft melodious voice, thy air, thy shape,
Were of a goddefs, not a mortal maid; But though thy charms, thy heavenly charms fhould fade,
My heart, my tender heart, could not escape;
Nor cure for me in time or change be found;
To Mifs SMITH, of Bignor-Hall, On her excellent Imitation of Petrarch in Sonnets. HEN Petrarch fung th' accomplish'd
WHEN Laura's praife,
Some with, at least, might urge his active mind, Not empty verfe alone he then defign'd;
But a foft paffion in her foul to raise. Love was the author of his flowing verfe,
Love the fond fource of all the poet's lays, By Cupid's aid alone, HE gain'd the bays, And modern ages ftill his lines rehearse.
But what can move this rival of his fame ?
ODE то A LARK. AIL! Lark, fweet harbinger of day,
H Melodious warbler, ever gay.
Hail! earliest of the tuneful throng;
ISA AH XIV. 4. RGO tyranni jam furor infolens Tandem refedit?-Scilicet occidis ! Nec ferreo fævus coerces
Imperio populos trementes!
Virgam impiorum comminuit Deus,
Ufque dies agit otiofas.
Lætantur altis montibus abietes Cedrique lætantur Libani: "Jaces: "Noftras nec in frondes fecurim
Fatiferam populator urget." Cemifne, ut Orcus regna per horrida Tumultuatur?-Cernis, ut inferas Recludit ædes, manumque
Turba venit tibi gratulantum? Regum, relictis fedibus, ordines In be fuperbo proveniunt gradu: Crudelibus verfam parati
Conviciis lacerare fortem : "Tune ergo noftrum jam fimilis? Tibi "Nobifque demum fors eadem venit? "Vah! quis fupremum credidiffet "Mortis iter tibi deftinatum!" Tecum fepulchro gloria conditur: Taces; remiffe fila tacent lyræ: Et vermium putres pererrans
Agmen edax epulatur artus.
Quis te fepulchri munere, quis pari
Cadit fcelefti infleta intonoraque
Enfem; patris ne mox cruentet, Ne feritas rediviva mundum. "Iras in illos exacuam graves," Jehova dicit, bellipotens Deus:
"Nomen Babelis, filiofque, et
"Reliquias generis revellam, "Certum eft ab imis verrere fedibus "Urbem: tenebit gurges: et ardea "Inter paludofas ruinas
"Ponet arundineum cubile." Jurare verax, bellipotens Deus Jehova dixit: non erit irritum Verbum Jehova, fempiternæ
Confilium nec inane mentis. 4 Tritam videbit fub pedibus mea "Gentem Babelis terra fuperftitem: Jugum refringam, ponderifque Colla mei populi levabo.
EDITHA, a Tragedy; infcribed to the Inhabitants of the City of Exeter and its Neighbourhood. By Hugh Downman, M. D. 8vo. Is. 6d. Grigg. Exeter. 1784.
THIS tragedy recalls to our memory "Infancy, a Poem," written by Mr. Downman fome years fince, which reflects confiderable honour on him a man of fenfe, genius, and learning, and it is with fatisfaction we can inform our readers, that the piece before us tends rather to increafe than diminish our esteem for him, though we by no means think he hath happily fucceeded in the difficult undertaking of writing tragedy: he is greatly deficient in that delineation of character
and purity of manners fo effentially requifite in this kind of writing; but notwithstanding, he fairly merits a feat with his contemporaries in the tragic line, as he often poffeffeth a fpirit of boldness, and a manlinefs of expreffion, rarely to be met with in their writings. To fupport our opinion, we fhall make the following extracts, which contain the principal caufe of Editha's diftrefs:
VOLNIR'S TEN T.
AS in our fartheft limits t'ward the city
Gun. Art thou the much-famed leader of the Danes?
Voln. My name is Volnir.
Gun. Hail, illuftrious chief
Thy will is granted. From a meffenger
Gun. From Devon's weit extreme I come; a friend To thee and Denmark,
Voln. How a friend? Proceed.
Gun. Art thou ambitious o'er this town to triumph?
To gird the conqueror's laurel round thy brow? Q2 And