Abbildungen der Seite
PDF
EPUB

Higher, see, the flames ascend,
Louder raptures shake the sky;
Power of death! thy triumphs end,
Hence to hell for ever fly.

Soon after this hymn was finished, almost every stanza of which was interrupted with the mingled emotions of grief at the calamities of war, and joy that they were terminated, the pile and all its contents were consumed; the ashes that remained were swept into a pit, which had been prepared for the purpose; and a deep hole being dug upon the spot, the olive tree was planted, amidst the acclamations of the whole assembly-this was followed by another Lyric effusion, the chorus of which was repeated by every voice.

Blest offspring of th' eternal king!

Celestial Peace from heaven descend;
To earth unfading olives bring,

And wide thy numerous gifts extend !
From famine, and from fear set free,
Our lightened hearts with rapture bound;
Power of Peace; thy votaries see!

And spread thy blissful empire round!

CHORUS.

May bands of virtue, truth, and love,
From this blest hour unite mankind;
On Freedom's cap still sit the Dove,
And round it Peace her olives bind !

Sweet Peace, where'er thy footsteps come,
All nature feels the general tread;
Fresh springing flowers before thee bloom!
And groves of fruit behind thee spread!
The loves and graces in thy train,
Revive, and chear our drooping souls;
The desart grows a fruitful plain,
And full the stream of plenty rolls!

CHORUS.

May bands of virtue, &c.
Religion pure and undefil'd,

Now shed thy brightest beams abroad!
From error free the human mind,
And lead it to its parent GOD!

Thus be thine empire, heavenly Peace,
Fix'd firm in every human soul;
With time's swift lapse thy power increase,
And on to endless ages roll!

LAST CHORUS.

May freedom's cap still bear the dove,
With never fading olives twin'd,
And from this hour the reign of love,
Ensure the bliss of all mankind!

The loud and universal shout which succeeded the singing of this Ode, was too powerful for sleep to bear-I awoke-the sun was shining full in at my windows, a confused murmur of voices rose. from the street, and the bells of the church, which was at no great distance from my habitation, were ringing so as to rock the old steeple. I rose in haste to enquire what was the matter, and my ears were soon greeted with the delightful sound of PEACE. Peace between England and France! I was scarcely dressed before my neighbours almost broke into my house to wish me joy. Judge, Mr. Editor, of my extreme delight, when I thus found what I had just before considered only as a desirable vision, turned into a substantial reality. I have no doubt but you will sincerely unite your wishes with mine, that this Peace may begin new order of things in the world; may the principles of gene. ral liberty, separated from selfishness and licentiausness, every where operate, and carry forward with encreasing rapidity the general melioration of

mankind! Success to every enlightened, honourable, and benevolent measure of the kingdom of Great Britain and the Republic of France! May there be no emulation between these great commu, nities, but that of wise and virtuous spirits; no contest, but which shall most speedily and effectually civilize and bless the world!

FATHER OF THE UNIVERSE! (should the progress of thine all comprehending plan now permit,) crown this event with thy highest blessing, and render it the happy beginning of ETERNAL AND

UNIVERSAL PEACE!

Sidmouth, Nov. 14, 1801.

ON

THE BEGGAR'S TALE.

(Concluded from Page 169.)

E. B.

NE morning the violence of the disorder unexpectedly seemed to abate, and she sunk into a gentle slumber. Our hopes upon this were revived; and we anxiously watched over, pleasing ourselves with the idea that the fever had exhausted itself, and that she would again recover to gratify our ardent prayers.

After some hours of undisturbed repose, she awoke tranquil and serene, but exceedingly feeble and emaciated. Perceiving us standing around, she desired to be raised up in her bed, and making us sit down beside her, she begged our attention for a few moments, as she knew her end was approaching. Seeing our tears falling, she entreated us to compose ourselves, and not to sorrow on her account; that she was about to leave the world; indeed, a world of trial and misery, where no unsullied happiness could be expected; but that she was going to a better country, where she would one day meet us, never to be separated, or to sorrow more. She desired to bless heaven, that had

granted her such an opportunity to part with her dearest friends; she thanked me in the tenderest terms for my paternal care.

She consoled Henry for their luckless love, and told him he might yet rejoice with some happier maid; but she hoped that the memory of the unfortunate Maria would not be altogether ungrateful to his breast.

She grasped Amelia's hand, as a token of her sincere forgiveness; congratulated her upon her reconciliation to virtue, and recommended her to our kindest friendship.

She then delivered some general instructions, in a high strain of sublime piety; took leave of us in a language that still vibrates in my ear; and concluded with a short but fervent address to the Almighty Father of Spirits. She then wished to recline upon the bed. Henry supported her till the pillows were adjusted; she made an effort to clasp him in her feeble arms. He pressed her softly to his boson; and in this affecting posture she breathed her last.

Thus died Maria, and with her fell all my prospects upon earth. So much were we overwhelmed with grief, and so listless to every concern, that we were only just able to order a decent funeral, and to accompany her remains to the grave.

I am now arrived, sir, at a striking period in the history of my misfortunes. You are doubtless surprised at the minute particularity with which I recounted every circumstance of it, and displayed every feeling and sentiment of Henry's mind; but well may they be engraven on this heart, for they have been the subject and the solace of many an after hour. Besides, when I repeat iny story to others, especially to the young and inexperienced, humanity admonishes me to warn them to beware of similar dangers. Let them reflect on Henry's

generous soul, but lamented unwariness, and learn the value of circumspection. Let them consider the instrument of all his sorrow, and avoid the false 'allurements of beauty; and know how to respect female honour, and a virtuous woman, for her price is above rubies.

Yet, let me here, for the sake of those who are now no more, endeavour to wipe away that odium which is too universally thrown upon the sex. To their arts are ascribed the guilt, the infamy, and the ruin of many a hopeless youth; and the libertine, while he sneers at their misfortunes, brands their degraded names with epithets too black for horrific fiends. But stand forth, ye vile accusers, and muster in your train all those virtuous and innocent minds which you have enticed to the paths of vice; confront us with these, and, if you have one spark of modesty, be silent. Spare your reproaches, be merciful at least to yourselves, and do not divulge your own infamy. Learn the story of any miserable and prostituted female was she not ruined by the duplicity and faithlessness of man? Such was the fate of Amelia, who was the daughter of a respectable Scottish clergyman, and might have lived happy and useful, had she never known the falsehood of a gaudy, but unprincipled, baronet in the neighbourhood. Hear this, and erect your crests, ye libertines! let your triumphs be splendid, as your conquests are glorious; and still advance the dignity of your natures, by rendering infamous what you have already rendered miserable. Yet, amid all your gaiety, do not banish the reflection, for be assured, it will be the constant companion of your days of disease and disgrace

That all your woe-shall be repaid by woe. Let me, therefore, exhort you, my young friends, to esteem and embrace prudence, as the first of virs

« ZurückWeiter »