"Voluptuous LONDON! where thy turrets blaze, "Their hundred thrones the frolic Pleafures raise; "Bid proud Expence Sabean odours bring, "Nor afk her roles of the tardy Spring;

"Where Mufic floats the glitt'ring roofs among, "And with meand'ring cadence fwells the Song; "Where Painting burns the Grecian Meed to claim, "From the high temple of immortal Fame, "Bears to the radiant Goal, with ardent pace," "Her Kaufinan's beauty, and her Reynold's grace; "Where Sun-clad Poetry the ftrain infpires,

And foils the Grecian Harps, the Latian Lyres.

;

"Ye foft'ning Luxuries! ye polifh'd Arts! "Bend your enfeebling rays on tranquil hearts! "I quit the Song, the Pencil, and the Lyre, "White robes of Peace, and Pleafures foft attire, "To feize the Sword, to mount the rapid Car,'' "In all the proud habiliments of War."Honora loft! I woo a fterner Bride, "The arm'd Bellona calls me to her fide "Harfh is the mufic of our marriage ftrain!" "It breathes in thunder from the western plain! "Wide o'er the watry world its echos roll, "And roufe each latent ardor of my Soul. "And tho' unlike the foft melodious lay, That gaily wak'd Honora's nuptial day, "Its deeper tones fhall whisper, e'er they ceafe, "More genuine tranfport, and more lafting peace!

"Refolv'd I go! nor from that fatal bourn "To thefe gay fcenes fhall Andre's steps return! "Set is the ftar of Love, that ought to guide "His reffluent Bark across the mighty Tide!-"But while my Country's Foes, with impious hand "Hurl o'er the subject plains the livid brand "Of dire Sedition --Oh! let Heav'n ordain "While Andre lives, he may not live in vain!

"Yet without one kind farewell, cou'd I roam "Far from any weeping Friends, my peaceful home, "The beft affections of my heart must cease, And gratitude be loft, with hope, and peace!

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My lovely Sifters! who were wont to twine "Your Souls foft feelings with each with of mine, Shall, when this breaft beats high at Glory's call, From your mild eyes the fhow'rs of Sorrow fall?"The light of Excellence, that round you glows, "Decks with reflected beams your Brother's brows!

Oh! may his Fame, in fome diftinguish d day "Pour on that Excellence the brightest ray!

"Dim clouds of Woe! ye veil each fprightly grace "That us'd to sparkle in Maria's face.

My tuneful Anna to her lute complains, "But Griefs fond throbs arreft the parting ftrains."Fair, as the filver blossom on the thorn, "Soft as the fpirit of the vernal morn,

Louifa, chafe thofe trembling fears, that prove

"Th' ungovern'd terrors of a Sifter's love.

"They bend thy fweet head, like yon lucid flow'r,

"That fhrinks and fades beneath the Summer's show'r.

"Oh! fmile my Sifters, on this deftin'd day, "And with the radiant omen gild my way! "And thou, my Brother, gentle as the gale, "Whofe breath perfumes anew the bloffom'd vale, "Yet quick of Spirit, as th' electric beam, "When from the clouds its darting lightnings ftream, "Soothe with inceffant care our Mother's woes, "And hush her anxious fighs to soft repose.

* Tuneful Anna-Mifs Anna Andre has a poetical talent.

1

"And be ye fure, when diftant far I ftray
"To share the dangers of the arduous day,
"Your tender faithful amity fhall reft
"The last dear record of my grateful breast.

"Oh! graceful Pricftefs at the fane of Truth, "Friend of my Sou!! and guardian of my Youth! "Skill'd to convert the duty to the choice,

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My gentle Mother! in whofe melting voice The virtuous precept, that perpetual now'd, "With Mufic warbled, and with Beanty glow'd, "Thy tears!-ah Heav'n !-not drops of molten lead, "Pour'd on thy hapless Son's devoted head,

"With keener fmart had each fenfation torn !

They wake the nerve where agonies are born! "But Oh! reftrain me not! thy tender ftrife, "What wou'd it fave?-alas! thy Andre's life! "Oh! what a weary pilgrimage 'twill prove "Strew'd with the thorns of difappointed Love! "Ne'er can he break the charm, whofe fond control, "By habit rooted, lords it o'er his foul, "If here he languish in inglorious cafe,

"Where Science palls, and Pleafures ceafe to pleafe.
"'Tis Glory only, with her potent ray,

"Can chace the clouds that darken all his way.
"Then dry thofe pearly drops, that wildly flow,
"Nor fnatch the laurel from my youthful brow!-
"The Rebel Standard blazes to the noon!
"And Glory's path is bright before thy Son!

*Laft dear record." I have a Mother, and three "Sifters, to whom the value of my commiffion wou'd

be an object, as the lofs of Grenada has much affected their income. It is needlefs to be more explicit on this fubject, I know your Excellency's goodness." See Major Andre's laft letter to General Clinton, publish'd in the Gazette.

Then join thy voice! and thou with Heav'n ordain "While Andre lives, he may not live in vain!

He fays!and fighing feeks the bufy ftrand
Where anchor'd Navies wait the wifh'd command.
To the full gale the nearer billows roar,
And proudly lafh the circumfcribing shore;
While furious on the craggy coast they rave,
All calm and lovely rolls the diftant wave;
For onward, as th' unbounded waters spread,
Deep fink the rocks in their capacious bed,
And all their pointed terrors utmost force,
But gently interrupts the billows course.

So on his present hour rude paffion preys ! So fmooth the profpect of his future days! Unconfcious of the Storm, that grimly fleeps, To wreck its fury on th' unfhelter'd Deeps!

Now yielding waves divide before the prow;
The white fails bend, the ftreaming pennants glow;
And swiftly waft him to the western plain,
Where fierce Bellona rages o'er the flain.

Firm in their ftrength oppofing Legions and,
Prepar'd to drench with blood the thirsty Land.
Now Carnage hurls her flaming bolts afar,
And Defolation groans amid the War.
As bleed the Valiant, and the Mighty yield,
Death stalks the only Victor o'er the field.

Foremost in all the horrors of the day, Impetuous* Andre leads the glorious way;

*Impetuous Andre.-It is in this paffage only that fiction has been employ'd thro' the narrative of the

Till, rafhly bold, by numbers forc'd to yield,
They drag him captive from the long-fought field.-
Around the Hero croud th' exulting Bands,
And feize the fpoils of War with bloody hands;
Snatch the dark plumage from his awful creft,
And tear the golden crefent from his breaft;
The fword, the tube, that wings the death from far,
And all the fatal implements of War!

Silent, unmov'd the gallant Youth furvey'd
The lavish fpoils triumphant Ruffians made.
The idle ornament, the useless fpear
He little recks, but oh! there is a fear

Pants with quick throb, while yearning forrows dart
Thro' all his fenfes to his trembling heart.

"What tho' Honora's voice no more fhall charm! "No more her beamy fmile my bofom warm! "Yet from thefe eyes fhall Force forever tear "The facred Image of that Form so dear? "Shade of my Love! tho' mute and cold thy charms, "Ne'er haft thou bleft my happy Rival's arms!

"To my fad heart each Dawn has feen thee preft ! "Each Night has laid thee pillow'd on my breast!

poem. Mr. Andre was a prifoner in America, foon after his arrival there, but the Author is unacquainted with the circumftances of the action in which he was taken.

Shade of my Love.-The miniature of Honora. A Letter from Major Andre to one of his Friends, written a few years ago, contain'd the following fentence. "I have been taken prifoner by the Americans and ftript of every thing except the picture of Honora, which I concealed in my mouth. Preferving that, I yet think myself fortunate."