45' 



Original Poetry, 



[Aug. 



Oh who shall speak the sense of joy 



To Ihy fair followers given, 

 When, warm'd with zeal and transport high. 

 They see the sons of poverty 

 Direct the glowing arJent eye 



With gratitude to heaven ? 

 »Ti9 their's to taste the bliss refin'd. 

 The conscious self-approving mind. 

 The p«ace that still from Virtue flows, 

 Th« charm that steady Hope bestows. 

 The soul resign'd, each turn of fate to bear, 

 And all that mortals know of happiness 

 sincere. 



THE CHURCH YARD. 



BROODING, the shades of darkness hang. 

 O'er the still sullen house of death j 

 Nature is hush'd ; no zephyr's breatU 

 Disturbs the dull and heavy scene. 

 The moon appear?, the light returns, 

 13ut not the cheering light of day ; 

 ' lis a cold light of transient stay. 

 No warmth theborrow'd moon-ray yields. 

 Its silver beams rest on the tombs, 

 But enter not the grave's confines ; 

 There nerther sun nor moonlight shine*. 

 But blackest night for ever dwells. 

 The joy and grief of ages past. 



The father's hope, the widow's stay. 

 The fears and hopes of former day. 

 Are mingled in one common mass. 

 Why are the dead reserv'd with care ? 

 I see each narrow house confin'd 

 Or with the briar or willow bind, 

 Or marble monument inscrib'd ? 

 •Tis the bright hope the Bible gives, 

 That Deaih shall render back his slain, 

 And all the dead shall live again. 

 That teaches thus to guaid their dust. 

 This storehouse of the dead shall ope, 

 And all that sleep in cust shall wake ; 

 When th' archangel's tuimp shall shake 

 The deep foundations of the earth. 



Dajjizl CorsEY. 

 Braintrce; Matj'^9, I3ld. 



A TOYMAN'S ADDRESS. 



IN THE STYLE OF MODERN TOETRY. 



SMILING girls, rosy boys. 

 Here— come buy my little toys. 

 Mighty men of gingeibiead 

 Crowd my stall, with f.ices red ; 

 And melting maidens you behold 

 Lie about ihem, all in gok' ; 

 And see, the uin shines passing fair. 

 And breezes wanton with their hair. 



Smiling girls, rosy boys. 

 Hasten— buy my little t^ys. 

 • >iere are babies ripe for play ; 

 Pipes lo watble care away ; 

 Houses to be shifted hence ; 

 And trunks lo fill with weekly pence; 

 And p"hjmed hordes all a-rovv; 

 Was ever seen so fair a shewj" 

 StniViPg gii Is, rosy boys, 

 JiiiiiCE. — buy my licilc toys. 



Now a windmill strikes your view. 

 Whose sails do split the air in two. 

 And go so gaily round and round. 

 The scene resembles fairy ground • 

 A.nd lo! lie panting in the sua 

 My troop of warriors , every one ; 

 Rise men of might ! behold they rise 

 And wave their weapons in the skiea| 



Smiling girls, rosy boys. 



Hasten — buy my little toys. 



Raised on high, above the rest. 



See the eagle in his nest ; 



Among the stars — you see them shine—. 



He builds his residence divine ! 



Oft his flaming eyes he raises 



Where the sun obliquely blazes ; 



So bright they beam, I ween their ray 



Outvies the splendour of the day; 



Now your languid eye reposes 



On beds of artificial roses ; 



Streamy hues of red and white. 



Laugh about them — feast your sight. 



And smiling girls, and rosy boys. 

 Hasten — buy my httle toys. 

 All my toys are not told o'er, 

 1 could number thousands more; 

 See, lie sprinkled here and there» 

 Helmet, gaberdine, and Spear ; 

 And, swift as sunny sparkles, lo ! 

 Armed horjemen round them go. 

 It seems as if a fight had been 

 To dignify the mimic scene ! 

 Here's a gun, that, with a spring. 

 Shoots bloodless bullets — pretty thing? 

 And boisi'rou^drum, and dulcet lute. 

 Are Spread about, but they are mute. 

 Buy them ! let their mingling sound 

 Cleave the air, and shake thegroundl 

 Now in coaches you behold. 

 Ladies bright and barons bold. 

 See, the coachman waves his whip. 

 O'er each steed's far-»prcading hip- 

 It Seems a snake, that coils about. 

 Or smoke, from chimney dancing out. 

 It crackles o'er them, now, like thundet^ 

 And fierce they plunge in senseless wonder* J 

 Here are kings, high heaven raises. 

 Trumpets, too, to sound their praises. 

 Smiling g'rls, and rosy boys, 

 Hasten — buy my little toys. 



Cole: raikes. G. N. 



THE CAPTIVE. 



From the French, 

 By Sauah Candler. 



WHERE'ER he roams, in ev'ryland. 

 The life of man with trouble teems ; 

 But, exil'd on a foreign strand. 



He learns what real sorrow means. 

 If e'er in peaceful sleep deceived. 



Gay Fancy paints his native shore^ 

 Awaking, all his soul is grieved 

 To lind his native land no more. 



* A late lexicographer has snid, " Won- 

 der IS the eft'cct ol novelty upon igno» 

 ranee." 



Ani 



