ODE TO POVERTY.

HAIL Poverty! in tatter'd weeds array'd,

The scorn of Wealth, and all the gay-deck'd crowd;

Oft by thy son's despis'd,

Who bow to Pride.

Tho' in thy train the spectre, Care, appears,
With wrinkled Sorrow, pale-faced Misery,

These haunt the costly pile,

Where Grandeur dwells.

Then wherefore shall man shudder at thy name,
Unmindful of the fix'd decrees of Fate?
To Him who rules on high

We all must bow.

Death waits alike the portals of the great,
And the craz'd cottage. Virtue makes us blest;
And when she deigns to smile,

She ne'er deceives.

THE BIBLE.

LINES WRITTEN IN 1746.

HAIL, Sacred volume of eternal truth! Thou staff of age! thou guide of wand'ring youth!

Thou art the race which all that run shall win,
Thou the sole shield against the darts of sin ;
Thou giv'st the weary rest, the poor man wealth,
Strength to the weak, and to the lazar health.
Lead me, my King, my Saviour, and my God,
Through all those paths, thy sainted servants
trod;

Teach me thy twofold nature to explore,
Copy the human, the Divine adore.
To mark through life the profit and the loss,
And trace thee from the manger to the cross.
Give me to know the medium of the wise,
When to embrace the world, and when despise.
To want with patience, to abound with fear,
And walk between presumption and despair ;
Then shall thy blood wash out the stain of guilt,
And not in vain, for even me, be spilt.

THE BLUSH OF MODESTY. 'Tis not the dazzling bright attire

Of Fashion's plumage gay; 'Tis not the warmth of Music's fire, Can steal this heart away;

Though thicken'd folds with gold profuse Adorn the beauteous fair,

These, these, must perish in the use;

Sweet sounds be lost in air:

To none a captive will I be,
But the sweet blush of Modesty.
'Tis not the playful winning eye
Can lure me to its snare;

Nor the soft bosom's heaving sigh,
Or wanton locks of hair;

Nor yet a thousand other ways, That tempt the passions' move; They may my admiration raise,

But cannot win my love: None so delight, enrapture me, As the sweet blush of Modesty.

TO A FRIEND ABOUT TO MARRY A
SECOND TIME.

On, keep the ring, one little year,
Keep poor Eliza's ring;
And shed on it the silent tear,
In secret sorrowing.

Thy lips, on which her last, last kiss
Yet lingers moist and warm,
Oh, wipe them not for newer bliss,
Oh, keep it as a charm.

These haunts are sacred to her love,

Here still her presence dwells; Of her the grot, of her the grove,

Of her the garden tells.

Beneath these elms you sat and talk'd,
Beside that river's brink

At evening, arm-in-arm, you walk'd,
Here stopt to gaze and think.

Thou'lt weet her when thy blood beats high
In converse with thy bride,
Meet the mild meaning of an eye
That never learnt to chide.
Oh, no, by Heaven, another here
Thou canst not, must not bring;
No, keep it but one little year,
Keep poor Eliza's ring.

OCTOBER THE TWENTY-FIFTH. ANOTHER year!-a year of solitude, Of darkness, yet of peace, has past-and he, The father of his people, marks it notAlike to him all seasons and their changeHis eyes are rayless, and his heart is cold. He wields a barren sceptre-yet his brow, Of regal diadem displaced, still wears The crown of glory-his," the hoary head "Found in the way of righteousness" and truth!

Oh thou! our father-thou! our Prince and friend!

How many a sight that would have grieved thine eyes

How many a pang that would have wrung thy heart

Has God withheld, and thine affliction spared?
The Rose of England withered in its bud,
The voice of wailing was in every tent,
Yet thy day passed unruffled as before.

The partner of thy hopes, when hope was young,
She who has shared thy first, thy youthful love,
And ministered to every sorrow-she
Fell by long sickness, and a lingering death,
And thou hadst neither tear, nor sigh to give.

Yet thou art not forgotten-dear thou wast
In happier moments-and oh! dearer far
Now that "the hand of God hath touched thee"
-still

Hallowed by all the memory of the past
Shall be this day. Sacred by lengthened years,
And venerable by sufferings, may'st thou reach,
In Heaven's appointed time, thy last abode-
The Paradise of God, where every tear
Is wiped from every eye.

Those who roast beef and wine delight in,

Are pleas'd with trumpets-drums-and fight-||

ing;

For those who are more lightly made,

Are arts, and sciences, and trade;

For fanciful and am'rous blood,

We have a soft, poetic food;

For witty and satyric folks,
High-season'd Attic salted jokes;

And when we strive to please the mob,

A jest, a quarrel, or a job.

If any gem'man wants a wife,
(A partner, as 'tis term'd, for life)
An advertisement answers well,
And quickly brings the pretty belle.

If you want health, consult our pages,
You shall be well, and live for ages;
Our empirics, in search of bread,
Do every thing-but raise the dead.

Lands may be had, if they are wanted;
Houses purchased, or rented;
Ships-shops, of every shape and form-
Horses servants-coaches swarm :
No matter whether good or bad,
We tell you where they may be had.
Our services we can't express,
The good we do you hardly guess;
There's not a want, of human kind,
But we a remedy can find.

ORIGINAL POETRY.

FAREWELL!

EUGENIA TO PHILEMON.

FAREWELL!-kind, cruel word-farewell!
It strikes upon affection's ear,
Like the sad, ling'ring, passing bell,
Of joys, seen but to disappear!
On all thy virtues let me dwell,
But spare my lips the last farewell!
If to bear with thee as thou go'st

Thy journey down this vale of tears,
The prayers of her who loves thee most,

Who most thy noble heart reveres→→→
I'll fill the grove, the rocky cell,
If this be bidding thee farewell!
Each breeze shall murmur in thine ear,
A charm against ill fortune's wrath;
The wind shall catch each falling tear,

And rain down blessings on thy path;
And every other shower dispel,

Save these round drops that speak "farewell."

Thou bidd'st me walk and linger near

Those balmy shades where oft we've metAb, no! thy fancied image there,

Would my poor 'wilder'd brain beset; And from my bursting heart would swell A ceaseless, agoniz'd, "farewell!"

Yet thon wilt come again ere long,
And I shall live to meet thy smile;
And the soft witchery of thy tongue

Shall once again my woes beguile : The thought shall draw a pleasing spell, Around this painful "fare thee well !”

VERSES

On seeing an old, and once humble friend, fashionably attired.

BY GEORGE BROMBY.

O D'ON thy threadbare coat again,
And thy old slouch'd hat retain ;
Resume thy thicksets-let me see
The ancient patch upon thy knee-
Thy scanty neckcloth loosely bend,
And let me view my early friend!

1 cannot see thee in that dress-
There's round thee too much mistiness!
That button's polish hurts mine eyes-
Thou seem'st ensunn'd in fashionries!
Keep in the glare, an't be thy will,
My heart must mourn thy absence still!
A faintness doth my soul oppress-
I'll seek the shades of lowliness-
And, as I drink a cooler air,
My mem'ry shall inform thee there→→
There, on the margent of the rill,
Such as thou wert, I'll see thee still!

ON THE DEATH OF MISS C. PEAKE,

OF WOOLWICH.

SCARCE two-and-twenty years had pass'd away,
Ere sickness shed its unpropitious ray
On Caroline's much-cherish'd, guiltless head,
And stole her strength, and on her beauty fed ::
Its power, alas! was fatal-but it came

With flattering impulse o'er her gentle frame. There was no word of murmur-no distorted limb,

Her brow was never dark-her eye was never dim.

Like a calm summer eve she stole away,

As faint, and fainter, grew the peaceful day:

A little flushing of the snowy cheek

A little talk of being well, though weak-
A gradual wasting of life's vital spring,
While voice, and cheek, and eye were flattering
With hopes of health; until the awful night,
We saw the film come e'er her eye of light;
While every heart around with grief was riven,
She kiss'd her anguish'd parents, smil'd, and
went to heaven.

THE DANCE.

BY MISS M. LEMAN REDE

HARK! that soft preluding strain, Trembles from a harp I love ;

J. W.

LINES TO A PHILOSOPHER.
BY THE SAME.

COME leave cold Philosophy's pages,
And fly to the bard of my soul-
Here is all that enchants and engages,
There is all that can gloom and controul.

Perhaps when the spring-tide is over,
The dear crazy moments of youth;
A charm I may learn to discover,
In the logical volumes of Truth.
But as yet give me Fancy's dominio ns,
Her rose-wreaths shall blush in my hair;
And light on her wild, waving pinions,
I'll range thro' the regions of air.
But though I bar tedious deductions,
And the sober disciples of time;
Do not wrong me by cruel constructions,
And magnify whim into crime,
My heart by a warm intuition,

Acknowledges truth as the source
Whence all that is good draws nutrition,
And all that is great has its force.

And while that latent spark lives within me, And springs forth as occasions appear, Philosophy never shall win me

To live in his cold atmosphere.

Who never lingers near the miser's board,

But lives with worth and honesty alone;
And leaves the base in solitude to groan.

May all thy days pass gently as a stream

Which tempests never rule-and whose breast Silent and calm, reflects the pale moon's beam, And draws Sol's parting blushes from the west, When twilight breezes waft him to his rest. May Sorrow shun your footsteps! Where you

FRENCH.

No. 1.-WALKING DRESS. India muslin frock, with flounces of broad lace. Blue hat of raw net silk en rouleaux. Cachemire shawl with blue border; sash of Scotch plaid; English ruff; half boots of French grey kid; and white chamois leather gloves.

ENGLISH.

No. 2.-WALKING DRESS.

Round dress of fine cambric, with em. broidered flounces of muslin, each flounce headed by a row of beautiful embroidery. Velvet spencer of bright geranium, terminated in front with points à-la-fichu: triple ruff of fine Valenciennes lace, tied in front with small bows of ribbon. Bonnet of either granite silk or spotted velvet, trim. med with the new plume silk trimming, with full bouquet of flowers on the left side. The hair arranged à-la-Montespan. Ermine muff, gloves of pale yellow, with variegated half boots.

GENERAL OBSERVATIONS

ON

FASHIONS AND DRESS.

WE may almost now venture to inform our fair readers of what envelopes will be most prevalent for the commencement of winter, which came in with a sudden rigour while we were exulting in the prospect of its being but a short one, from the peculiar warmth of the declining autumn.

A carriage pelisse of reps silk, of a bright emerald green, struck us at Mrs. Bell's Magazin de Modes, a few days ago, by its peculiar elegance: it is lined throughout with a pale pink sarsnet, and a falling col lar of the same; the pelisse has a broad superb trimming of the Otaheitan grèbe bird round the bottom: a pelerine tippet of the same is worn with this pelisse. The

Brandenburgh pelisse is also well adapted either for the carriage or walking costume: it is of fine cloth of a rich garnet colour, embroidered with distinct figures in black, à-la-Brandenburgh, and faced with a broad trimming of the new black feathered silk. Drab-coloured cloth pelisses trimmed with ponceau velvet, and geranium cloth trimmed with black feathered silk, are likely to be much in favour this winter, as will be the levantine, or double twilled sarsnet, wadded and tastefully ornamented. Cloth spencers of grey, and those of black velvet elegantly finished on the bust and on the mancherons, are at present much worn for walking over these, when the weather is severe, is thrown a fur tippet, in the form of a small mantilla, made of the ounce, or that valuable American fur the whapponoc. These tippets, by their form, by no means set off the shape.

We come now to the important article of bonnets; and first, we beg to present to our readers in a very particular manner one of a truly novel and elegant style, called Le Chapeau Matinale, the sole invention of Mrs. Bell, and which cannot be sufficiently admired; from the name of this bonnet it will easily be guessed that it is made in a style peculiarly adapted to the morning, either for the promenade or the carriage, to which its superb materials and manner of being finished render it more appropriate: it is of a fine silk something of the reps kind, with very small spots of velvet: the trimming at the edge, which is formed in points, is of the new plume silk, and an ornament of the same material encircles the crown, which is tastefully finished by a bouquet of muscavias. of these bonnets which have cornette ends that gracefully fasten under the chin and have also a small cap worn underneath them, are of dove-colour or of lavender, of

Some