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ORIGINAL POETRY. 
——_—— 
EPIC FRAGMENTS—No. VI. 
THE ORIGIN OF HARMONIC NUMBERS. 
From.rude beginnings rose each polish’d art 
That social life adorns; and slowly rose : 
From Jove’s ethereal brain alone could spring, 
Matur’d and arm’d, a Goddess of the skies, 
Earth-born, the wings with the dull soil are 
clogg’d, 
Wherewith we soar to immortality ; 
And impulses of need instruct us first 
Toimp their plumes, and aim thedaring flight. 
The incipient minstrel, by the anvil plac’d 
Where glow’d the half-form’d share, from 
cyclop arm 
Caught the first instinct of that measur’d 
stroke, 
Which not. alone the murderous drum in- 
structs, 
But the soft lute, and cadence of the verse, 
That breathes of pastoral joy in peaceful 
bowers, 
And loves and hymeneals; or that swells 
Tn the full anthem, when the choral voice 
Blends with the pealing organ, and ascends 
In rapt devotion to the throne of thrones, 
To join the eternal concert of the spheres. 
Thus Music, and thy modulated voice, 
Soul-stirring Poesy! remotely drew 
From instincts of a rude necessity, 
The latent charms of measur’d harmony 
That, with united influence, now control 
The throb: of passion and the pulse of joy! 
SONNET 
TO HIM WHO WILL UNDERSTAND I?. 
«He wants for nothing but an honest heart.”— Pope. 
I wourp not be a hypocrite like thee, 
Nor would I own thy public pilfering 
hoard—* 
Nor would I quit right plain sincerity— 
No, not, for.all Potosian mines afford. 
Thou bold-fac’d pirate on ambition’s sea, 
O, vilely thou didst trick Hibernia’s lord, 
When, spite of all thy well-gloz’d sophistry, 
Thy black heart peep’d beneath each flowery 
word, 
Better, by far, on plain cold roots to dine— 
Better to dwell lip-steep’d in poverty— 
Better to delvesome dark and dangerous mine, 
Where the sun’s glorious orb man ne’er 
ean see— 
O yes! ’twere heaven, ’twere bliss, Such fate, 
to thine— 
Jesuit in all that’s mean, and false in sub- 
tlety ! 
Banks of the Darent. Enorrt. 
* The honest Duke of Newcastle, one of the late 
King’s earliest cabinet ministers, after he had nearly 
exhausted a princely fortune, declared, that sooner 
than become a burden to his country, he would 
make his Duchess a washerwoman. Would he 
have pocketed £10,000, appended to an. embassy, 
and never fulfilled the duties of the appointment ? 
TO THE PEOPLE OF THE 
UNITED STATES OF NORTH AMERICA.- 
Fair Freedom’s sons! your warrior’s name 
O’er earth, from pole to pole, hath roll’d! 
Your’s is the task, to guard his fame 
With watchful care, and firm uphold 
The mighty blessings, by his patriot-hand 
Won for your great,your highly-favour'd land. 
Triumphal columns, though they blend 
Their trophied summits “with the sky, 
Beneath the Weight of time must bend, 
And prostrate with the cottage lie. 
Trust not to granite, nor a City’s name—* 
Guard well your freedom, and you guard his 
fame ! 
Knock off the fetters of the slave, 
And cleanse you from so foul a stain: 
Til it becomes the free and brave 
To wield the scourge and forge the chain! 
Nobly complete what nobly is begun, 
Nor in the race for freedom be outrun, 
Where’er she lifts her sacred head, 
In her defence united stand :— 
Your fathers for her fought and bled, 
And you possess her favorite land; 
Be you the steady bulwark of her cause, 
And sternly bid the Northern Tyrants pause. 
Let Italy her craven neck 
Bend to the Austrian’s iron yoke, 
And bigot Bourbons madly wreck 
Their shatter’d bark where erst it broke : 
But Greece, immortal Greece!—O stretch 
the hand 
Of succour to her deeply-suffering land ! 
Greece shall be free!””—those few short words 
From you would burst her shatter’d chain ! 
Turkey would arm her savage hordes, 
And Europe’s despots rave, in vain! 
Her vine-clad hills, her classic vales and 
streams, 
Once more shall glow in Freedom’s genial 
beams! Tuos. Hows. 
* Alluding to the projected Bunker’s-hill Monu- 
ment, and the City of Washington. 
LINES, 
SENT, WITH A SHAMROCK (ON ST. PATRICK’S 
DAY), TO A YOUNG IRISH LADY, OF GREAT 
POETICAL TALENT—- WHO, THE EVENING’ 
BEFORE, HAD REQUESTED THE AUTHOR TO 
PROCURE HER ONE. 
{It will be but too apparent, from other circum- 
stances than the date, that this was written before 
a late unhappy decision in the House of Lords. } 
For, you, sweet maid! at dewy dawn, 
These leaves, that grac’d the smiling lawn, 
Were gather’d, at your dear request— 
To bloom upon your beauteous breast ! 
_ Accept, then, maiden fair and young 
“(Who loves the land from whence eee) 
