"Is there no road but by those gibbets ?" "But tho' with the wind each murderer fwings "What are these ravens there?-thofe creatures The woman replied, "They are night-ravens "To the banquet at hand he flies. "Now fare thee well!" The traveller, filent, At the brim of oblivion's bowl. And now he near to the gibbets approach'd! Yet heeded them not, tho' they feemed to dance, Wherefore, he cried, fhould men incline He scarce had faid, when, in the dark night, He trembled, and could not look round. He gallop'd away! the spirit purfued! Now both on the verge of the common arrive, The horfeman his arm outstretch'd to expand He started and swift through the still-darker lane - The tumpike he reach'd; "Oh tell me," he cried, "What spirit is this which has follow'd me here "Ah, Jenny," he cried, "thou crafty old jade! "Good gentleman, fear not, no spirit is nigh, "'Tis only old Gaffer's grey mare!" CITELTO. The Tempeft is a beautiful little piece, not wholly unlike Beattie's Hermit in point of fentiment: THE TEMPEST. "The tempeft has darken'd the face of the skies, The winds whistle wildly across the wafte plain, The fiends of the whirlwind terrific arise, And mingle the clouds with the white-foaming main. All dark is the night and all gloomy the shore, Save when the red lightnings the ether divide, Then follows the thunder with loud founding roar, And echoes in concert the billowy tide. But tho' now all is murky and shaded with gloom, Hope the foother foft whifpers the tempefts fhall cease; Then nature again in her beauty fhall bloom, And enamoured embrace the fair fweet-fmiling peace. For For the bright-blufhing morning all rofy with light Then the warblers of fpring fhall attune the foft lay, And the fun-beam fhall fleep on the hill and the dale. If the tempefts of nature so foon fink to reft, If her once faded beauties fo foon glow again, Shall man be for ever by tempefts oppress'd, By the tempests of paffion, of forrow, and pain? Ah no! for his paffions and forrow shall cease When the troublesome fever of life shall be o'er; In the night of the grave he fhall number in peace, And paffion and forrow fhall vex him no more. And fhall not this night and its long dismal gloom, Like the night of the tempeft again pass away; Yes! the duft of the earth in bright beauty fhall bloom, And rife to the morning of heavenly day! D. 1796. The Old Man's Comforts are prettily imagined and affectingly told. THE OLD MAN'S COMFORTS, AND HOW HE GAINED THEM. "You are old, Father William, the young man cried, You are hale, Father William, a hearty old man, In the days of my youth, Father William replied, And abused not my health and my vigour at first. Your are old, Father William, the young man cried, And yet you lament not the days that are gone, In the days of my youth, Father William replied, That I never might grieve for the past. You are old, Father William, the young man cried, You are cheerful, and love to converfe upon death! I am cheerful, young man, Father William replied, In the days of my youth I remember'd my God! S. Many other pleafing pieces might have been selected, but fufficient has been extracted to convince the judgment, and taste of the editor, and to fhew the reader that the perufal of the whole collection will administer to his inftruction and entertainment. The fecond volume, we understand, is in the press. Poems and Plays by Mrs. Weft, Author of a Tale of the Times, a Goffip's Story, &c. 2 vols. Longman and Rees. THIS ingenious lady has afforded us entertainment and inftruction in the perufal of her volumes; though we do not affign her the firft rank among the female writers of the day. There is, however, much to commend; and our readers will, upon the whole, be pleafed with her effufions. The comedy is entitled How will it End? nor can we perceive why it fhould have been rejected. The fame may be remarked of the Tragedy-Adela; but the authorefs now appeals to an impartial public. Her Elegies and Sonnets contain many juft thoughts, well expreffed. We, are, however, moft gratified with the Ode Ode on Poetry, in four parts-Claffics, Uncultivated, Sacred, and British. Under each of which heads a number of pleafing articles are detailed and illustrated. The British department clofes with these two animated ftanzas. The Genius of Poetry thus exclaims: "Go tell my ardent youths who pant The applauding song shall burft, and charm an age unborn. For thee, though hope with meteor ray, No longer gilds thy airy dreams, Beware, nor prostitute the lay, The gift of heav'n to hell-born themes. The poet and the verse pervade, Unnotic'd like your linnet's strain ; While confcious duty deigns to throw, O'er thy lone cot a funny glow, And tells thy tranquil heart-thou doft not live in ΤΟ |