iSOo.] 



Original Poetry. 



249 



Vain are her pray'rs,— her counfels all are 

 vain, — 



Yet hear the high beheft of Heav'n again ! 



When all is loft that Cecrops' tow'rs fur- 

 round, 



And all Cithaeron's holy limits bound. 



To PalUs yet, an emolemof his love, 



Her wooden ramparts ihall be giv'n by Jove. 



Thefe itill ihull ftand, unconquer'd, firm, and 

 free, 



The guardians of your lateft progeny. 



When barbarous myriads on your plains de- 

 fcend, 



Before the furious tempeft timely bend ! 

 Oh heav'nly Salarr.is ! 'tis thine to tear 



From many a mother's breaft her cherifli'd 

 heir, 



When earlieft verdure decks the fruitful 

 plain, 



Or Ceres paints with gold her ripen'd grain. 



This appeared to the Atlienians j'et 



more obfcure than the former. But the 

 plot of Themiftocles was now ripe^ and 

 he found it no diilicult matter to^per- 

 fiiade his countrymen that the limits of 

 the earth could mean nothing but the 

 fea, that the wooden ramparts were their 

 navy, and Salamis the place appointed 

 by the God for thenr to make then- prin- 

 cipal ftand ; and at the fame time lie 

 artfully inlinuated the hopes of fuccefs 

 and of a fplcndid vi6tory from the oini- 

 nous expreliions and lucky words with 

 which the refponfe abounded. 



The fubject on which I liave entered 

 opens indeed a very wiile and ample 

 field of difcuffuju ; but it v.-ould foon ex- 

 ceed the limits of a periodical publication 

 were I to attempt at prefent filling up 

 the iketch which I have drawn. 



Cp.ispus. 



ORIGINAL POETRY. 



TO A YOUNG LADY, 



ON II EH IlIRTH-DAY. 



Br PETER PINDAR, Esq. 

 'M'OW, Mary, thou art fweet eighteen, 

 In Nature's bloom of form and mien ; 

 Tafte and good humour to delight thy 

 friends ; 

 A raiftrefs of the dance and fong, 

 Neat repartee upon the tongue. 



And raulic, Mary, at thy finger ends. 

 Now beaux their love-tales will begin ; 

 The tall, the (liort, the thick, and thin, 

 The fool, the man of fenfe, the gay, the 

 fombre : 

 And would old Time, the thief, alack ! 

 Give me but half a century back, 



I certainly fliould be among the number. 



O may thy future minntes fly- 

 Without a tear, without a ligh. 



Rich with the world's enjoyments, full of 

 fpirits ; 

 Forgiving thera my thief, old Time, 

 I'd praii'e the ral'cal in iny rhymfr 



For doing lb much jultice to thy merits. 



ROSA BELL. 



By JOHN MAYNE. 



'piIE troops were all embark'd on board ; 



The Ihips were under weigh ; 

 And loving wives, and maids ador'd. 



Were weeping round the bay. 

 They parted from their deareft friends, 



From all Iheir heart defiresj 

 And Rol'abell to Heav'n commends 

 The man her foul admires I 



For him, flie fled from fol't repofc ; 

 Rcuouuc'd a pareul's care : 



He I'.iiU to crulh his country's foes- 

 She wanders ni dcfnair ! 



iloKIBlY IlIAO.^'«. lit!. 



A feraph, in an infant's frame, 



Recliii'd upon her arm ; 

 And furrow, in the comely dame. 



Now heighten'd every charm: 

 She thought, if fortune had but fniil'd— « 



She thought upon her dear ;- 

 And when ilie look'd upon his child, 



O ! then ran many a tear ! 

 " Ah I who will watch thee as thou fleep'fi J 



Who'll fing a lullaby, 

 Or rock thy cradle, wl;en thou weep' ft. 



If I fliou'd chance to die ?" 

 On board the lliip, refign'd to fate. 



Yet planning joys to come. 

 Pier love, in filent I'orrow, fate 



Upon a broken drum : 

 He law her, lonely, on the beach ; 



He faw her on the ftrand ; 

 And, far as human eye can reach, "> 



He faw her wave her hand I 

 « O, Rolabell ! tho" forc'd to .go. 



With thee my foul Ihall dwell , 

 And heav'n, who pities huiuan woe. 



Will comfort Iloi'dbell !" 



MY WEDDING DAY. 



a'puFM ADDniSSED TO MnS. A., 



By JOSEPH ATKINSON, Esq. 



'T'HIS day— now four and twenty years, 

 (As by recording time appears,) 



Our marriage rites were hleft ; 

 When you, in virgin bloom atlir'd," 

 Shar'd the fond ruptures you iufpir'd. 



And mutui'.! love coufeft. 

 'Twas not thy fair angelic face. 

 Thy fliape adoni'd with winning grace. 



Which firft thy lover hir'd ; 

 'Twas not the radiance of thine eyes. 

 Where Love in ]il;;yiul auibmli lies, "'' 



Tliy hulhaud'.'- heart fctur'd. 



li Ksi 



