Nor pack'd Committees break his reft,
Nor avarice fends him forth in quest

Of climes beneath the fun.

Short is our fpan; then why engage

In fchemes for which man's tranfient age
Was ne'er by Fate defign'd?
Why flight the gifts of Nature's hand?
What wanderer from his native land

E'er left himself behind?

The restless thought and wayward will,
And difcontent attend him ftill,

Nor quit him while he lives;
At fea, care follows in the wind;
At land, it mounts the pad behind,
Or with the poft-boy drives.
He who would happy live to-day,
Muft laugh the prefent ills away,

Nor think of woes to come;
For come they will, or foon or late,
Since mix'd at best is man's estate,

By Heav'n's eternal doom.

To ripen'd age Clive liv'd renown'd,
With lacks enrich'd, with honours crown'd,
His valour's well-earn'd meed.
Too long, alas! he liv'd to hate
His envied lot, and died too late,

From life's oppreffion freed.
An early death was Elliott's doom;
I faw his opening virtues bloom,
And manly fense unfold,

Too foon to fade. I bade the stone
Record his name, 'midft Hordes unknown,
Unknowing what it told.

To thee, perhaps, the Fates may give,
I wish they may, in health to live,

Herds, flocks, and fruitful fields;
Thy vacant hours in mirth to shine;
With thefe, the mufe already thine,

Her prefent bounties yields.

For me, O Shore, I only claim,
To merit, not to feek for fame,

The good and just to please;
A state above the fear of want,
Domestic love, heaven's choicest grant,
Health, leifure, peace and ease.

Touch'd by thy genial strains, the bosom glows. Now fmiles illume, now trickling tears diftain: This foothes to reft, that plants the thorny pain! Here fcenes of blifs, there rife unnumber'd woes!

Fair fav'rite of the Nine! thofe paths pursue, Which lead to Virtue's, Learning's brigh abode.

Thy modeft merit, unaffuming claim,
Not Envy's canc'rous tooth shall dare corrode.
Still copy life: So fhall the portrait true,
Its fkilful artist crown with deathlefs Fame.
S. A.

SONNET on leaving

FAREWELL, blefs'd feat of all my youth

No more, alas! I feel that calm delight, Which erft my willing footsteps did invite Thy winding streams to trace, and woodland bow'rs.

For me no more shall joy thy fhades illume, Peace, chearful Peace! within thy vales appear.

For ah! this tortur'd bosom, wrung with care, Content's fmooth image ftrives in vain t'affume. Yet tho' far diftant from thy rural plains, Where oft I've mark'd th' approach of pensive eve,

When thy lov'd haunts fore'er, perhaps, I leave, Thy haunts endear'd by Philomel's sweet ftrains; Still fhall remembrance each known path purfue,

And livelieft Fancy ftamp the prospect true.

S. A.

G. W. to Mifs A. B. on his leaving ENGLAND. Comparison The HEART and BEE-HIVE.

WITHIN the heart are various cells:
Here Love commands, there Friend-
fhip dwells.

For ev'ry virtue there's a place,
That dignifies the human race.
Sometimes, indeed, the Vices drive
The envied Virtues from their hive.
The drone Infenfibility

Invades the cell of Sympathy;
While the more active wafpith train,
Eager to feize the rich domain,

(Should Virtue fleep) with poifon'd darts
Envenom all the honey'd parts.—
Specious without, but foul within,
That artful, undermining fin,
Hypocrify, ufurps the cell

Where plain Sincerity should dwell!

O, ever

O, ever dearest Maid! beware

The artful man who fpeaks you fair!
'Twas tongue of Guile, and heart of Gall,
Infur'd the first weak female's fall:-
That Viper, base Ingratitude,
Doth oft (alas! too oft) intrude
Into the Paradife decreed

For mem'ry of a "Friend in need."
How happy, lovely Anna, you,
To whom praife unalloy'd is due.
Your heart, moft justly, charming Fair,
We to the BEE-HIVE may compare,

So fweetly have I known it fill'd,
The honey from the lips diftilla.
Of thofe fmall cells within the heart,
Where ev'ry virtue reigns apart,
It has by all been long confeft,
Friendship's is larger than the reft;
Or to expands, that numbers may
Unenvied hold united fway;
While in the monarch Cupid's cell
One favour'd gueft alone can dwell.
Since I, fair Anna, dare not aim
To kindle in your heart Love's flame,
Haply I may, without offence,

To Friendship's part make fome pretence.
O let me ever then remain

Where Friendship holds her focial reign;
'Till (the long years of abfence o'er)
"Safe anchor'd on my native shore,"
Your fparkling eye and lips unfold,
In language to be felt, not told,
Nor time nor abfence could impair
The traces of my image there.
En Artois, June 16, 1786.

G. W.

THE chiding Winter now refigns his reign, And verdant Spring diffufes joy and peace!

A thousand varied colours deck the plain, And nature's bloom bids warring paflions cease:

The airy choristers in wanton ringlets move, And grove, and mead, refounds with artless tales of love!

In this foft feafon let me ftray,

Far from the lawless feats of strife,
Where Peace and Virtue lead the way;
Where Truth emits her chearing ray,

And innocence gives joy to life!
On fome enamel'd bank reclin'd,

Where varied scenes each fenfe delight,
Oft let me feast my wand'ring mind,
And that fweet confolation find,

Which tells me ALL IS RIGHT.

But chief with gratitude my foul be fraught, To Heaven be ev'ry ardent pray'r addrest, To crown with joys, furpaffing human thought,

The hand-the kindly hand, which made me bleft,

455

And, to avoid the critics quarrel,
A fprig or two of Virgil's laurel.

Your ground thus laid, your trees thus plac'd,
Sweeten'd with flowers to your taste,
Your thepherd take, and, as is wont,
Baptize him at the poet's font.
Adorn him with ferip, crook, and reed,
And lay him by for farther need.
Then take a damfel neat and fair,
And in a fillet bind her hair.
Give her a flock of tender fheep,
And keep her by you-She will keep.

EPIGRA M. By the SAME.

Mr. PINGO, by direction of Mr Garrick, engraved a medal, on one fide of which was the Manager's head; on the reverfe, three gures, that refembled plague, peftilence, and famine, more than what they were intended to reprefent, namely, the three Graces, with this modeft infcription,

"He has united all your powers." This being, by a Gentleman to whom Mr. Garrick had presented it, fhewn to Mr. Henderfon, he repeated the following lines: THREE fqualid hags when Pingo form'd,

And chriften'd them the Graces; Garrick, with Shakespear's magic warm'd, Recogniz'd foon their faces.

He knew them for the fifters weird,

Whofe art bedimm'd the noon-tide hour, And from his lips this line was heard,

"I have united all your power."

So Garrick, critics all agree,

The Graces help'd thee to no riches, And Pingo thus to flatter thee,

Has made his Graces witches.

And he, fweet mafter of the Doric oat,
Theocritus, forfook awhile
The graces of his pastoral iste;
The lowing vale, the bleating cote,
The clusters on the funny steep,
And Pan's own umbrage, dark and deep,
The caverns hung with ivy-twine,
The cliffs that wav'd with oak and pine,
And Etna's hoar romantic pile;
And caught the bold Homeric note,
In ftately founds exalting high
The reign of bounteous Ptolemy:
Like the plenty-teeming tide
Of his own Nile's redundant flood,
O'er the cheer'd nations, far and wide,
Diffusing opulence and public good:
While, in the rich-warbled lays
Was blended Berenice's name,
Pattern fair of female fame;
Softening with domeftic life
Imperial fplendour's dazzling rays,
The queen, the mother, and the wife!
IV.

To deck with honour due this feftal day,
O, for a strain from these sublimer bards!
Who free to grant, yet fearless to refuse
Their awful fuffrage, with impartial aim
Invok'd the jealous panegyric Mufe ;
Ner, but to genuine worth's feverer claim
Their proud diftinction deign'd to pay,
Stern arbiters of glory's bright awards!

For peerless bards like these alone,
The bards of Greece, might beft adorn,
With feemly fong, the Monarch's natal

Meanwhile by Malice it was faid and written, His mind and body both at once were fmitten *;

Yet now return'd in promifing condition,
Alive, in very fpite of his phyfician,
Again with rapture hails the generous town,
Sure that misfortune never meets their frown!
Fam'd Pafquin, his applauded predeceffor,
'Gainft wit and humour never a tranfgreffor,
Still cheer'd your vacant hour with jelt and
whim,

When hapless Chance depriv'd him of a limbs But you, who long enjoy'd the tree's full shade,

Cherish'd the pollard, and were well repaid; Shall then his follower lefs your favour thare, Or, rais'd by former kindness, now defpair 2 No! from your fmiles deriving all his light, Thofe genial beams fhall make his flame more bright.

Warm gratitude for all your kindness past Shall foothe Disease, and charm Affliction's blaft.

By Reason's twilight we may go aftray,
But honest Nature fheds a purer ray;
While,more by Feeling than cold Cautionled,
The heart corrects the errors of the head..

Cheer'd by these hopes, he banishes all fear, And trufts, at least, you'll find no palfy here.

The Play was The Maid of the Mill, in which Mr. Matthews, from Bath, made his first appearance in Giles. He is intended to fup. ply the place of Mr. Bannifter, fenior; but poffeffes only in a low degree the talents (mall as they were) of his predeceffor. His voice is not a bad one; but he exhibits fcarce any other requifite for the stage.

20. The play of Jane Shore was performed for the purpofe of bringing forward a Mr. Horne, in the character of Haftings. This

gentleman made an effort in the hiftrionie art with the company of gentlemen who exhibited in the play of Dr. Stratford at DruryLane, in 1784.

After the play, a new farce, in two acts, called the Widow's Vow, was performed for the first time. It is a tranflation from the French by Mrs. Inchbald, and does credit to her pen. She has foftened down the extravagance of the French intrigue, and has adapted it to the English audience. The ftory is briefly this A young and beau tiful widow has forfworn the male fexa young Marquis, whose fifter, the Countess

abella, lives next door to the widow, hav ing fallen defperately in love with her, his fifter contrives to procure his introduction by making the widow believe that it is the Countefs herself in difguife. The Marquis is fuppofed by the whole family to be a woman, and he is treated by the widow with extreme freedom, and by her uncle with fuch pointed allufions as to incenfe him, and he is forced to correct his infolence. In his equivocal character, however, the Widow pledges herfelt to marry him, and the fifter arrives critically to explain the fuppofed metamorphofis.

This farce has confiderable humour, and we have feldom feen a trifle more ably executed. Mrs. Wells was admirable in the

difplay of arch fimplicity; and Mr. Ban nifler, jun. gave a very plaufible afpect, by the elegance of his drefs and cafy manners, to the fuppofed change of fex. Mr. Edwin and Mrs. Bates were also very happy in their performance.

The Prologue was well in the writing: but it was ftill better in the delivery. It was written by Mr. Holcroft, and excellently fpoken by Mr. Bannister.

Taft of the Sellion, will prove a very ex

HIS month, which may be called the

penfive month to the nation. The moneyvotes which pafs day by day in clusters would frighten any nation but the English, who feem to be inured to the yoke of taxation, without measure and without end. It is all one to them whether a million be voted, or a fingle thoufand; or whether that vote is pafled by forty Members, or four hundred ; therefore thin houfes in the fummer make the Minister's hay-time and harvest.

Among the many items of national expenditure, the fum demanded for the American claims is not the leaft perplexing and mortifying to the true friends of this country! and yet their most fanguine patrons admit that, they have no claim upon us at all; that is, to

be bellowed on them as a mere benevolence or charitable donation, in confideration of their fufferings on account of Great-Britain. This language might have fuited Britam once; but now, encumbered and heavy laden as fhe is with an enormous and unparalleled debt, under which her fons reel and stagger like drunken men, ready to fink under their infupportable burden, it is wild, romantic, and abfurd, to talk of charitable donations to the amount of millions, the number undefined and unknown. America has coft this nation very dear first and laft-in peopling it, and promoting its cultivation-in protecting it and fighting for it!-in figluing againfl it to fubdue rebellion, and restore it to its ftation in the British empire!—ia making peace with it, ceding our lands with

line but one.

out