"Sir G. It was.

"Del. The lady, almoft a child when firft he knew her, increased in grace and beauty faster than in years. Sweetness and fmiles played upon her countenance. She was the delight of her friends, the admiration of the world, and the coveted of every eye. Lovers of fortune and fashion contended for her hand: but the had bestowed her heart-had bestowed it on a-Sit still, fir; I fhall foon have done. I am coming to the point. Five years elapfed; during which the youth received every kindness friendship could afford, and every proof chatte affection had to give. These he returned with promises and proteftations that seemed to vast for his heart. I would fay for his tongue-Are you unwell, fir?

"Sir G. Go on with your tale.

"Del. His benefactor, feeling the hand of death fteal on, was anxious to fee the two perfons dearest to his heart happy before he expired; and the marriage was determined on, the day fixed, and the friends of the family invited. The intended bridegroom appeared half frantic with his approaching blifs. Now, fir, mark his proceeding. In this fhort interval, by fudden and unexpected deaths, he becomes the heir to a title and large eftate. Well! Does he not fly to the arms of his languishing friend? Does he not pour his new treasures and his tranfports into the lap of love? Coward and moniter! "Sir G. (Both farting up) Sir!

"Del. Viler than words can paint! Having robbed a family of honour, a friend of peace, and an angel of every human folace, he fled, like a thief, and concealed himself from immediate contempt and vengeance in a foreign country. But contempt and vengeance have at length overtaken him: they befet him they face him at this inftant. The friend he wronged is dead: but the fon of that friend lives, and I am he. "Sir G. 'Tis as I thought!

"Del. You are-I will not defile my lips by telling you what you are.

"Sir G. I own that what I have done

"Del. Forbear to interrupt me, fir. You have nothing to plead, and much to hear. Firft fay, did my fifter, by any improper conduct, levity of behaviour, or fault or vice whatever, give you just caufe to abandon her?

"Sir G. None! None! Her purity is only exceeded by her

"Del.

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I was vain, is it so strange that I should be overpowered by their dictates, and yield to their intreaties? Your friendship or my death is now the only alternative. Suppose the latter: will it honour you among men? At the man of blood the heart of man revolts! Will it endear you to Maria? Kind forgiving angel, and hateful to myself as her affection makes me, I laft night found that affection ftill as ftrong, ftill as pure, as in the first hour of our infant loves. Lady Jane

"Del. Forbear to name her! 'Tis profanation from your lips! No more cafuißtry! No fubterfuge! the paper! "Sir G. Can no motives

"Del. None

"Sir G. My future life, my foul, fhall be devoted to Maria.

"Del. The paper!

"Sir G. Obdurate man! (Reflects a moment) You fhall have it. (Goes to the table to write, during which Delaval remains deep in thought and much agitated) Here, fir! fince you will not be generous, let me be juft. 'Tis proper I remove every taint of fufpicion from the deeply wronged Maria.

"Del. (Reads with a faltering voice) "I George Verfa"tile, once poor and dependant, fince vaiu, fickle, and faith"lefs, do under my hand acknowledge I have perfidiously. "broken my pledged promife-to the most deferving-lovely -and (Begins in much agitation to tear the paper.)

"Sir G. Mr. Delaval?

"Del. Damn it-I can't-I can't fpeak. Here! Here! (Striking his bofom.)

"Sir G. Mr. Delaval?

"Del. My brother!

"Sir G. (Falls on his neck) Can it be? My friend ! "Del. This ftubborn temper-always in the extremes!

The tiger, or the child.

"Sir G. Oh no! 'Twas not to be forgiven! Best of men! Del. Well, well: we are friends.

"Sir G. Everlastingly! Brothers!

Del. Yes; brothers."

Sonnets,

Sonnets, and other Poems, by the Rev. W. L. Bowles, A. M. of Trinity College, Oxford. Sixth Edition. To which is added-Hope, an Allegorical Sketch, on Recovering fowly from Sickness. Dilly, 1798. pp. 180-fine paper, fmall 8vo. with Engravings. 6s. boards.

WE have never yet had an opportunity of paying to Mr. Bowles that tribute which he fo eminently demands; and we therefore hope we fhall be pardoned if at this time, anxious to teftify what we feel of his talents, we should snatch from almost every bed, fomo example of beauty, fome fubject of delight. His "Sonnets" are fo univerfally esteemed, as almoft the only English compofitions entitled to the diftinction, that we shall select them without attempting to point out what to us may appear more beautiful in each.

SONNET V.

"Evening, as flow thy placid fhades defcend
Veiling with gentleft hufh the landscape still,
The lonely battlement, and farthest hill
And wood; I think of thofe that have no friend,
Who now, perhaps, by melancholy led,

From the broad blaze of day, where pleasure flaunts,
Retiring, wander 'mid thy lonely haunts
Unfeen; and watch the tints that o'er thy bed
Hang lovely, to their penfive fancy's eye
Prefenting fairy vales, where the tir'd mind
Might reft, beyond the murmurs of mankind,

Nor hear the hourly moans of mifery!

Ah! beauteous views, that hope's fair gleams the while
Should fmile like you, and perith as they fmile!"

SONNET VIII.

"O poverty! though from thy haggard eye,
Thy cheerless mein, of every charm bereft,
Thy brow that hope's last traces long have left,

Vain fortune's feeble fons with terror fly;

I love thy folitary haunts to feek:-

For pity, recklefs of her own distress ;
And patience, in the pall of wretchedness,
That turns to the bleak form her faded cheek;
And piety, that never told her wrong;

And meek content, whofe griefs no more rebel;
And genius, warbling sweet her faddeft song;
And forrow lift'ning to a loft friend's knell,
Long banish'd from the world's infulting throng;-
With thee, and thy unfriended offspring, dwell."

SONNET XXVII.

ON REVISITING OXFORD.

"I never hear the found of thy glad bells,
Oxford! and chime harmonious, but I fay,
(Sighing to think how time has worn away)
Some fpirit fpeaks in the sweet tone that fwells,
Heard after years of abfence, from the vale
Where Cherwell winds.' Moft true it speaks the tale
Of days departed, and its voice recalls

Hours of delight and hope in the gay tide
Of life, and many friends now fcatter'd wide
By many fates.--Peace be within thy walls!
I have fcarce heart to vifit thee; but yet,

Denied the joys fought in thy fhades,-denied
Each better hope, fince my poor ****** died,
What I have owed to thee, my heart can ne'er forget!"

SONNET XXVI.

"How bleft with thee the path could I have trod
Of quiet life, above coid want's hard fate,
(And little withing more) nor of the great
Envious, or their proud name! but it pleas'd God
To take thee to his mercy: thou didst go

In youth and beauty, go to thy death-bed;
Ev'n whilft on dreams of blifs we fondly fed,
Of years to come of comfort!- Be it fo.
Ere this I have felt forrow; and ev'n now

(Tho' fometimes the unbidden thought must fart,
And half unman the miferable heart)

The cold dew I fhall wipe from my fad brow,

And

And fay, fince hopes of blifs on earth are vain, 'Best friend, farewell, till we do meet again !"

SONNET XXX.

"I turn these leaves with thronging thoughts, and fay,
Alas! how many friends of youth are dead,
'How many vifions of fair hope have fled,
Since firft, my mufe, we met :'-So fpeeds away
Life, and its fhadows; yet we fit and fing,
Stretch'd in the noontide bower, as if the day
Declin'd not, and we yet might trill our lay
Beneath the pleasant morning's purple wing
That fans us, while aloft the gay clouds thine!
O, ere the coming of the long cold night,
Religion, may we blefs thy purer light,
That ftill fhall warm us, when the tints decline
O'er earth's dim hemifphere, and fad we gaze
On the vain vifions of our paffing days!"

The defcription of Charity has every characteristic of its elegant and amiable writer:

"Oh, Charity! our helpless nature's pride,
Thou friend to him who knows no friend befide,
Is there in morning's breath, or the sweet gale
That steals o'er the tir'd pilgrim of the vale,
Cheering with fragrance fresh his weary frame,
Ought like the incenfe of thy holy flame?
Is ought in all the beauties that adorn
The azure heaven, or purple lights of morn?
Is ought fo fair in evening's ling'ring gleam,
As from thine eye the meek and penfive beam
That falls like faddeft moon-light on the hill
And diftant grove, when the wide world is still?
Thine are the ample views, that unconfin'd
Stretch to the utmost walks of human kind;
Thine is the fpirit, that with widest plan
Brother to brother binds, and man to man."

Such, too, is the picture of Infancy :
"Oh! hapless Infancy, if aught could move
The hardest heart to pity and to love,

'Twere