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has written a good deal of smooth verse, and a few occasional stanzas possessing spirit and elegance. He was a most assiduous student, a prodigy indeed of “ varying lore," and was particularly distinguished in oriental literature. In 1783 Jones was appointed a judge in Bengal, and in 1794 died at his post, of the dreadful disease of India-inflammation of the liver, which in his case was unusually rapid in its progress.


Sweet maid, if thou would'st charm my sight,
And bid these arms thy neck infold ;
That rosy cheek, that lily hand,
Would give thy poet more delight
Than all Bocara's vaunted gold,
Than all the gems of Samarcand.

Boy, let yon liquid ruby flow,
And bid thy pensive heart be glad,
Whate'er the frowning zealots say :
Tell them, their Eden cannot show
A stream so clear as Rocnabad,
A bower so sweet as Mosellay.

O! when these fair perfidious maids,
Whose eyes our secret haunts infest,
Their dear destructive charms display;
Each glance my tender breast invades,
And robs my wounded soul of rest,
As Tartars seize their destined prey.

In vain with love our bosoms glow :
Can all our tears, can all our sighs,
New lustre to those charms impart ?
Can cheeks, where living roses blow,
Where nature spreads her richest dyes,
Require the borrow'd gloss of art ?
Speak not of fate : ah ! change the theme,
And talk of odours, talk of wine,
Talk of the flowers that round us bloom :
'Tis all a cloud, 'tis all a dream ;
To love and joy thy thoughts confine,
Nor hope to pierce the sacred gloom.

Beauty has such resistless power,
That even the chaste Egyptian dame
Sigh’d for the blooming Hebrew boy
For her how fatal was the hour,
When to the banks of Nilus came
A youth so lovely and so coy!

But ah! sweet maid, my counsel hear
(Youth should attend when those advise
Whom long experience renders sage):
While music charms the ravish'd ear;
While sparkling cups delight our eyes,
Be gay, and scorn the frowns of age.

What cruel answer have I heard !
And yet, by heaven, I love thee still :
Can aught be cruel from thy lip?
Yet say, how fell that bitter word
From lips which streams of sweetness fill,
Which nought but drops of honey sip ?

Go boldly forth, my simple lay,
Whose accents flow with artless ease,
Like orient pearls at random strung:
Thy notes are sweet, the damsels say ;
But, O! far sweeter, if they please
The nymph for whom these notes are sung.


BORN 1731-DIED 1795.

This amiable and clever man was in orders, and was long

head-master of the Merchant Taylors' School.




“ THEE, Mary, with this ring I wed"-
So, fourteen years ago, I said.
Behold another ring !-" for what?”
“ To wed thee o'er again ?"—Why not?

With that first ring I married youth,
Grace, beauty, innocence, and truth;
Taste long admired, sense long revered,
And all my Molly then appear'd.

If she, by merit since disclosed,
Prove twice the woman I supposed,
I plead that double merit now,
To justify a double vow.

Here then to-day, (with faith as sure,
With ardour as intense, as pure,
As when, amidst the rites divine,
I took thy troth, and plighted mine,)
To thee, sweet girl, my second ring
A token and a pledge I bring :
With this I wed, till death us part,
Thy riper virtues to my heart;
Those virtues, which before untried,
The wife has added to the bride :
Those virtues, whose progressive claim,
Endearing wedlock's very name,
My soul enjoys, my song approves,
For conscience' sake as well as love's.

And why ?—They show me every hour, Honour's high thought, Affection's power, Discretion's deed, sound Judgment's sentence, And teach me all things—but repentance.


BORN 1758-DIED 1796.

The leading circumstances of the life of Burns are so fami

liarly known to every class of readers, that it seems superfluous to go over them, unless in a manner very different from what can be attempted in this limited publication. His own eloquent and energetic letters, whenever his genuine feelings guided his pen, afford the truest insight into his manly, and, in many points, noble character as a man and a man of genius. His single letter to Dr Moore is one of the most precious morsels of autobiography that the world possesses. Yet there is pleasure in enumerating the important circumstances of the life of Burns, however cursorily, for they are all such as do hon

our to his character. Robert Burns was the eldest son of William Burness or

Burns, and Agnes Brown, a couple in almost the lowest class of rural life in what was at that time a poor country. They were one of those excellent and virtuous pairs to whom Scotland owes her high moral and religious character among the nations of Europe. The father was a person of uncommon worth and intelligence, but not one

of those whose portion is of this world. (a) The school-education of Robert Burns was scanty and pre

carious, though his father made great exertions to educate all the family. At an age when boys more prosperously situated are dividing their time between learning and amusement, Burns was exerting himself above his strength to assist his father and his father's family—at the age of a boy doing a man's work-ill-fed, and probably not very well clothed; and, worse than all, feeling, with all the torturing sensibility of genius, the miseries arising to himself and those he loved from great poverty and unavoidable misfortune. The pity that is felt for his misfortunes in after-life may be alloyed by blame of his con.

(a) None of the biographers of Burns mention his mother, save as an excellent wife and mother in her rank of life. I have heard a gentleman-himself a poet and a man of feeling and genius—who had opportunities of seeing this venerable matron in her latter years, say, that the mother was the poetical ancestor of Burns. This old lady certainly possessed something of her son's magical power of eloquence. In describing to my informant the localities of their residence near Alloway Kirk, the of the poet, she talked naturally of their hearing on dark nights “the sea roaring on the shore, and the sealghs yowling," in language more bold and figurative than ever cottage matron used before,-EDITOR.

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