Could paint the bright vermilion of her cheek,
Pure as the roseate portal of the east,
That opens to receive the cheering ray
Of Phoebus beaming from the orient sky?
For sterling beauty needs no faint essays,
Or colourings of art, to gild her more:
She is all perfect. And, if beauty fail,
Where are those ornaments, those rich attires
Which can reflect a lustre on that face,
Where she with light innate disdains to shine?
Britons, beware of fashion's luring wiles.
On either hand, chief guardians of her power,
And sole dictators of her fickle voice,
Folly and dull effeminacy reign;

Whose blackest magic and unhallow'd spells,
The Roman ardour check'd; their strength decay'd,
And all their glory scatter'd on the winds.

Tremble, O Albion! for the voice of fate
Seems ready to decree thy after-fall.

By pride, by luxury, what fatal ills

Unheeded have approach'd thy mortal frame; How many foreign weeds their heads have rear'd In thy fair garden! Hasten, ere their strength And baneful vegetation taint the soil,

To root out rank disease, which soon must spread, If no bless'd antidote will purge away

Fashion's proud minions from our sea-girt isle.

R

RETIREMENT.

Odi profanum vulgus et arceo.

HOR.

COME, Inspiration, from thy vernal bower,
To thy celestial voice attune the lyre,
Smooth gliding strains with sweet profusion pour,
And aid my numbers with seraphic fire.

Under a lonely spreading oak I lay,

My head upon the daisied green reclined, The evening sun beam'd forth his parting ray, The foliage bended to the hollow wind.

There gentle sleep my acting powers suppress'd,
The city's distant hum was heard no more,
Yet Fancy suffer'd not the mind to rest,
Ever obedient to her wakeful power.

She led me near a crystal fountain's noise,
Where undulating waters sportive play,
Where a young comely swain, with pleasing1 voice,
In tender 2 accents sung his sylvan lay.

"Adieu, ye baneful pleasures of the town;
'Farewell, ye giddy and unthinking throng;
Without regret your foibles I disown,

'Themes more exalted claim the Muse's song.

'Your stony hearts no social feelings share,
'Your souls of distant sorrows ne'er partake;
Ne'er do you listen to the needy prayer,
'Nor drop a tear for tender pity's sake.

'Welcome, ye fields, ye fountains, and ye groves, 'Ye flowery meadows, and extensive plains, 'Where soaring warblers pour their pleasing loves, 'Each landscape cheering with their vocal strains.

'Here rural beauty, op'ning to the eye,

1

On the green margin 2 of each streamlet glows, 'Where with the blooming hawthorn, roses vie, " 'And the fair lily of the valley grows.

'Here Chastity may wander unassail'd,

'Through fields where gay seducers cease to rove; 'Where open Vice o'er Virtue ne'er prevail'd, 'Where all is innocence, and all is love.

'Peace, with her olive wand, triumphant reigns,
6 Guarding secure the peasant's humble bed;
'Envy is banish'd from the happy plains,
'And Defamation's busy tongue is laid.

'Health and contentment usher in the morn,
'With jocund smiles they court the rural swain,
'For which the peer, to pompous titles born,
'Forsaken sighs-but all his sighs are vain.

'For the calm comforts of an easy mind, 'In yonder lowly cot delight to dwell,

'And leave the statesman for the lab'ring hind, 'The regal palace for the humble cell. 5

1 Var. rears her pleasing shrine. 3 Var. roses twine.

5

2 Var. She on the margin. 4 Var. cheer.

Certes, in fair virtue's heavenly road,.
The cottage leaves the palace far behind.
BURNS'' Cotter's Saturday Night,' Stanza xix.

On hearing she intends appearing in the character of
Mary Queen of Scots.

Cease, Hartley, cease: Forbear the ungracious part;
In calm repose let Mary's sorrows lie,

We've oft confess'd your empire o'er the heart,
By the warm plaudit, and the broken sigh,
But should you now, in gentle Mary's guise,
Claim the soft tribute of the feeling soul,
I fear the tender passions soon would rise
Too high for sage discretion to control:
So fair a picture of the Queen we love
In every youthful charm, can never fail to move.

1 Var. riot.

2 Var. discord.

3 Var. stream.

4 It is remarkable, that there is a very striking likeness between Mrs. H. and the original paintings of Queen Mary.

Mrs. Hartley was only a second-rate actress. Her 'first attempts' were very favourably received; but latterly she proved a mere copyist-her only well supported character, 'Jane Shore,' being after Mrs. Yates. 'Detector,' in the 'Weekly Magazine,' says, "The tree at first bore many blossoms: I am sorry it did not yield more fruit. Although it failed, it was not for want of care and culture (on the part of Digges, the Manager of the Theatre) or the sunshine of public favour." There is a very beautiful Portrait of Mrs. Hartley drawn and engraved by Sherwin.]

Hartley resembles Scotland's Queen,
Some bard enraptured cries :
A flattering bard he is, I ween,
Or else the painter lies. 1

ON THE DEATH OF MR. THOMAS LANCASHIRE,

COMEDIAN.

[Lancashire, says Jackson, "possessed a great fund of dry humour, and filled Shuter's line in low comedy. He was a great favourite with the public. He kept a tavern, first in the Canongate, and afterwards in the New Town. He drank and joked with his customers: laughed and grew fat; and at length died, respected by many, and with the good word of all."—History of the Scottish Stage, p. 42.]

2

ALAS, poor Thom! how oft, with merry heart,
Have we beheld thee play the sexton's part,
Each comic heart must now be grieved to see
The sexton's dreary part perform'd on thee.

1 See her picture in the palace of Holyroodhouse.-F. 2 Grave-digger in Hamlet.-F.