POETRY. $69 



Canker'd will) f UIi, infection, debt and -ivant ; 

 My home a broflic', and the street ir.y haunt ; 

 Full seven long years of infamy I pin'd, 

 And fondled, loath'd, andprcy'd upon mankind : 

 Till, all the drudgery of vice gone through, 

 My battcr'd fabric fails at twcaty-two ; 

 And Death, with ev'iy terror in his train, 

 Here clos'd the scene of riot, guilt, and pain. 



Ye fair a='Soci3tcs of my op'ning bloom, 

 O come and weep, and profit at my tomb ! 

 Let my short youth and blighted beauty prora 

 The fated venom of unlawful lore : 

 O think how quick my foul career I ran, 

 A sacrifice to falsehood, lust, and man ! 

 Then shun the paths, where Passion's meteors shinC 

 Your's be the lesson ; all th' experience miae ! 



THE TURKISH LADY. 



(a ballad.) 

 jBy T. Caatpbell, Esq.* 

 (Original. J 

 WAS the hour when rites unholy 



T 



Call'd each Paynim voice to pray'r, 

 And the star, that faded slowly, 

 Left to dews the freshen'd air. 



Day her sultry fires had wasted, 



Calm and sweet the moonlight rosoj 

 £'en a captive's spirit tasted 



Half oblivion of his woes. 



Wot ye then, in Turkish rallies, 



How an Eastern lady bright-, 

 Spite of tyrants round her palace, 



Spoke a bold and British knight : 



*' Tell me, captive, why, in anguish, 

 Foes have dragg'd thee here to dwell, „ 



Where poor Christians, as they languish, 

 Hear no sound of Sabbath bell." 



'< 'Twas on Transylvania's Bannat, 



When the crescent sbone afar, 

 Like a pale, disastrous planet, 



O'er the purple tide of war." 



* The celebrated author of the " Pleasure* of Hope," !m. 



