POETRY.

ELEGIAC TRIBUTE

ΤΟ

THE MEMORY OF EARL HOWE.

Is gallant Howe no more! must worth expire ?
Must heaven-born valour feed the funeral pyre?
To Death's fell dart must every virtue yield,
And leave the tyrant master of the field?
Death strikes, relentless, at the laurel crown,
And Victory's plume droops pale beneath his frown.
Is gallant Howe no more! must worth expire?
Must heaven-born valour feed the funeral pyre?—
Low sunk the hero on the bed of death;
Resign'd his spirit with his parting breath:
Attendant Seraphs bore it to the skies,
But from his ashes future Howes shall rise!

Rejoice not, Gallia, at the warrior's fall!

He rests in peace; but, prompt, at Britain's call,
Myriads of heroes rush exulting forth,
And claim high honour as the meed of worth!
They fear thee not, nor bend beneath thy scorn ;
True patriots they, to noblest daring born!

Is gallant Howe no more! must worth expire ?
Must heaven-born valour feed the funeral pyre →
A nation's plaudits oft have reach'd his car;
That nation's plaudits to his heart were dear:
He lov'd Britannia, and, in fond return,,
Britannia's tears now bathe his sacred urn.
He rests secure in yonder peaceful skies,
But from his ashes future Howes shall rise!

1.

T. HARRAL

LINES,

LATELY DELIVERED PREVIOUSLY TO THE REPRESENTATION OF A PRIVATE PLAY.

WHEN arts and arms were young, when Nature smil'd,

And fadeless verdure crown'd the blooming wild;

Ere martial music charm'd the soldier's fear,

Or war's wild clarion struck the startled ear,

Britannia rose, emerging from the flood,
Her sea-green hair unstain'd with foreign blood;
Bright was her form, majestic to the view!
Translucent as the wave her mantle flew.
In strains divinely sweet she thus began;
In deep prophetic notes her story ran:

• Ye sedge-crown'd sisters of the watery plain!
Nereus' fair daughters! Regents of the main !"
She said, and straight, from forth their oozy beds,
The wave-borne maids attentive rais'd their heads:
Ages, far distant, shall behold yon isle
The seat of science, learning's sacred pile;
Commerce shall wave her yellow standard there,
And the wide world's vast riches amply share;
There shall the Muses find a hallow'd seat,
And jealous liberty her last retreat.-
As erst, of old, when good Eneas flew
To court alliance 'gainst the Latian crew;
When haughty Turnus, fierce with vengeful ire,
Attack'd his ships with sacrilegious fire;

His ships, obedient to divine command,

To sea-nymphs turn'd, and brav'd each flaning brand:
So Heaven decrees shall Albion's navy turn—
Charge of the gods! each peril they shall spurn;
Charge of the gods! terrific they shall ride,
And float, triumphant, o'er the swelling tide l'
'The vision sinks! the virgins dissappear!
Celestial music greets the listening ear!

(The music plays Rule Britannia.')
And is it so? Doth learning beam around?
Doth Science flourish fair on British ground?
It does! enraptur'd thoughts my bosom cheer;.
The Muses favourites smile propitious here!
Proud Commerce spreads her shining wealth to view,
And Arts and Arms receive their well earn'd due:
Britannia's Navy doth in triumph reign,

Nor owns a rival on the spacious main.
Her sons fierce bosoms burn with ardent heat,

And British Courage holds her wonted seat!

In naval worth secure, she scorns to bow;

BRIDPORT! ST. VINCENT DUNCAN! HOOD! and Hows!
NELSON! and WARREN! a long deathless line!

Illustrious patriots of a race divine!

These, the proud bulwarks of her sea-lash'd coast,
Despise the threats of Gallia's vaunting host T

Secure in these, War stalks with dauntless air,
And with loud paans banishes despair. 292 mil
Soon shall Peace raise her rapture-gilded wing,

And Plenty's train her blythest carols sing

T. HARRAL.

THE BRAIN AND THE BODY.

BRAIN, thou must work! begin, or we shall lose
The day, while yet we only think upon it:
The hours run on, and yet thou wilt not choose
The subject-Come, ode, elegy, or sonnet?
You must contribute, Brain, in this hard time
Taxes are high, food dear, and you must rhyme.
"Twere well, if, when I rubb'd my itchless head,
The fingers with benignant inspiration,
Could through the medullary substance spread
The motions of poetic inspiration.

But scratch, or knock, or shake my head about,
The motions may go in, but nought comes out.
The nat'ral head, consider, good my Brain,

To the head politic bears some allusion;
The limbs and body must support your reign,
And all, when you do wrong, is in confusion.
But caput mine, in truth I can't support

A head as lazy as if born at Court.

The verse goes on, and we shall have, my friend,

A poem, ere the subject we determine.

But every thing should have some useful end—

That single line itself is worth a sermon, (I CortisonA The moral part as obvious is as good:

So, gentle Brain, I thank thee, and conclude,

Sear'd in her heart is Pity's source,
No age, no sex she spares;

The blooming maid, the helpless babe,
The nerveless sire, she tears.
O'er mangled heaps the harpy sits,
With exultation o'er,

Her shadowy wing turns day to night,
Long drench'd in human gore.
With Pity Heav'n's eternal Lord
View'd men sink 'neath their care,
And yield their lives to Massacre,
And welcome sad despair.

He view'd their wrongs, and sent relief,
By Russian eagles borne,

The monster noxious trembling flies,

Her pow'r in pieces torn!

D. STIDOLPH,

A NEGRO SONG..

[FROM MR. PARK'S TRAVELS IN AFRICA]

VERSIFIED BY THE DUTCHESS OF DEVONSHIRE.

BIOGRAPHICAL, LITERARY, AND SCIENTIFIC

MAGAZINE

FOR

AUGUST 1799.

CONDUCTED BY

ROBERT BISSET, LL. D.

WITH THE ASSISTANCE OF OTHER LITERARY GENTLEMEN.

THIS NUMBER IS EMBELLISHED WITH A PORTRAIT OF

JOHN FREDERICK SACKVILLE,

THE LATE DUKE OF DORSET,

LONDON:

PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY

G. CAWTHORN, BRITISH LIBRARY, NO. 132, STRAND,
BOOKSELLER TO HER ROYAL HIGHNESS THE PRINCESS

OF WALES:

SOLD ALSO BY MESSRS. RICHARDSON, ROYAL-EXCHANGE; H. D. SYMONDS, J. WALLIS, AND W. WEST, PATERNOSTER-ROW; J. HATCHARD AND J. WRIGHT, PICCADILLY; P. HILL, EDINBURGH; AND ALL THE BOOKSELLERS IN

TOWN AND COUNTRY.