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High in the heavens, the moon suspend her course
To listen to my strains, whilst the proud trees
So lofty over head, have hush'd their noise,
And only to the loud gale bent themselves
When I have ceas'd. There is my gentle harp,
And if I ne'er should gain it, I must roam,
Mourning this land about, or in a bark
Sail up and down the ocean evermore:

And when the stars of night shoot their red balls,
Fly after them, and ere their flight hath ceas'd,
Seize and direct their unextinguish'd course
To him who robb'd me."

Guthrum cried-" Poor man!

A wand'ring lunatic that here hath stray'd
Unconscious. Instant yield the harp, on! Dane!
For tho' we war with Saxons, we will spare
Whom Gods have warr'd on." Alfred took the
harp,

And bending to the chief most gratefully,
His way pursued.

Alfred soon meets with his beloved Alswitha, now a captive, and is ordered to soothe her with his strains in her captivity. A most affecting scene ensues between them, struggling with feelings by which they were almost overwhelmed.

Alfred stretch'd himself,

Heart-sick and weary, on the chilling ground,
And when the tempest of his mind seem'd hush'd,
And sleep advancing on the midnight gale,
Shouts of loud mirth were heard, and revelry.
When ALFRED thus look'd up to heav'n and
spake-

"Parent and guardian of all mortal things!
The seraphim and worm thou seest alike;
Thou seest ine, oh, Father! thou behold'st
All living things! Thy power it was which screen'd
ISAAC from death. Thine arm bath oft appear'd

For patriarch and prophet, men who plac'd
Their confidence in thee! Almighty sire !
Screen me in this dark hour!"

In several of the succeeding books, a scene of contention takes place between the Danish chiefs, respecting Alswitha, whom Hubba wishes to sacrifice by way of revenge, and to appease the Deity. This was humanely and successfully opposed by Guthrum, in a manner highly interesting to our sensibility.

ALFRED, after a variety of amusing adventures, extricates himself from the camp of the Danes by his well feigned insanity, and returns to his anxious countrymen. Them he rouses to battle; in the following animated expressions

-Start not at naming death,
For death will come, and many a man who now
Stands round me, soon must prove a breathless corse!
Myself may fall! The tongue that speaks, this
heart

That throbs for action, soon upon the ground
Exposed and still may lie. Sigh not at this,
But rather let our hearts-both yours and mine,
Exultant leap, and thank the God of Heaven,
That in his sight deserving we appear,
To fight our country's battles, and receive
The tear of gratitude from those to come.
Smile then at death! fear only to depart
Unconscious of performing as you ought,
Your trying duties. Having done, let pain,
Let anguish seize us-let soul-harrowing pangs
Rage their brief moment, but the conflict hard
Soon will subside, and then awaits us all,
Pleasure on earth, or blessedness in heaven!"

When the battle of Edington approaches, orders are issued by the Danes to spare no Saxon-ALFRED was to fall by the hand of Ivarand his

troops to be involved in one general destruction. We find, however, that the event of the battle had a different termination. With the short description of it we shall close our present paper, regretting that we have not more room for extracts, which might be made in abundance, from this truly valuable poem:

"Swift down the hill they rush, and in the plain
Meet the bold Saxon! see! the fight begins!
The battle rages! sword with sword hath met!
And hark, the terrors of the sounding shield,
That like two sheets of ice meet, and thro' heav'n
Send their loud dissonance and horrid crash!
The hoary head of some Norwegian crag,
High in the elements, that feels the blast
Shake its grey lock, which to the subject earth
At length rolls headlong, spreading as it rolls
One wide destruction, well display's the course
Of ALFRED's sword, as thro' the Danish ranks
It breaks its way-strewing the plain with DEATH."

THE PROSPECT OF LONDON.

From Moritz's Travels on Foot through several Parts of England. T is no more singular than true, that many

better capable of describing it than those who, perhaps, were not only born there, but have actually spent their days in the metropolis. In support of this assertion, and to prove that some foreigners have a better idea of London than many of its inhabitants, we lay before our readers the following pleasing description by a gentlemen of Berlin.

"At length, dearest Gedike, I am again settled; as I have now got my trunk and all my things from the ship, which arrived only yesterday. Not wishing to have it taken to the custom-house,

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which occasions a great deal of trouble, I was obliged to give a douceur to the officers, and those who came on board the ship, to search it. Having pacified, as I thought, one of them with a couple of shillings, another came forward and protested against the delivery of the trunk upon trust, till I had given him as much: to him succeeded a third z so that it cost me six shillings, which I willingly paid, because it would have cost me still more at the custom-house.

By the side of the Thames were several porters, one of whom took my huge heavy trunk on his shoulders with astonishing ease; and carried it till I met a hackney-coach. This I hired for two shillings; immediately put the trunk into it, accompanying it myself, without paying any thing extra for my own seat. This is a great advantage in the English hackney-coaches, that you are allowed to take with you whatever you please: for you thus save at least one half of what you must pay to a porter, and besides go with it yourself; and are better accommodated. The observations, and the expressions of the common people here have often struck me, as peculiar: they are generally laconic; but always much in earnest and significant. When I came home, my landlady kindly recommended it to the coachman not to ask more than was just, as I was a foreigner: to which he answered; nay, if he were not a foreigner, I should not overcharge him.

My letters of recommendation to a merchant here, which I could not bring with me on account of my hasty departure from Hamburgh, are also arrived. These have saved me a great deal of trouble in the changing my money. I can now take my German money back to Germany; and when I return thither myself, refund to the correspondent of the merchant here, the sum which he here pays

me in English money. I should otherwise have been obliged to sell my Prussian Friedrick's d'or for what they weighed: for some few Dutch dollars, which I was obliged to part with, before I got this credit, they only gave me eight shillings.

A foreigner has here nothing to fear from being pressed as a sailor; unless indeed he should be found at any suspicious place. A singular invention for this purpose of pressing, is a ship which is placed on land not far from the Tower on Towerhill, furnished with masts and all the appurtenances of a ship. The persons attending this ship promise simple country people, who happen to be standing and staring at it, to shew it to them for a trifle; and as soon as they are in, they are secured as in a trap; and according to circumstances made sailors of, or let go again.

The footway paved with large stones on both sides of the streets, appears to a foreigner exceedingly convenient and pleasant; as one may there walk in perfect safety, in no more danger from the prodigious crowd of carts and coaches, than if one was in one's own room; for no wheel dares come a finger's breadth upon the curb-stone. However, politeness requires you to let a lady, or any one to whom you wish to shew respect, pass, not as we do, always to the right, but on the side next the houses or the wall, whether that happens to be on the right or on the left, being decmed the safest and most convenient. You seldom see a person of any understanding or common sense, walk in the middle of the streets in London, excepting when they cross over; which at Charing Cross, and other places, where several streets meet, is sometimes really dangerous.

It has a strange appearance, especially in the Strand, where there is a constant succession of shop after shop; and where, not unfrequently, people

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