912 ANNUAL REGISTER, 1809. 



AN AFRICAN SONG. 



POOR Zeila on wide water gnze, 

 Where white man tear her love away; 

 In vain she to poor Oran prays ; 

 In vain ghe call the ship to stay ! 



Back to her hut can Zeila go; 



From Oran dear how can she sleep ; 

 When Zeila breast swell big wid woe, 



When Zeila eye do nought but weep ! 



Rise, Sun of Morn ! but give no light 



To cruel m;in who him enslave ! 

 Poor Oran pine, far, far from sight, 



Or now lie de;id below cold wave. 



But if him live, him see no more 



The big tear drop from Zeila eye; 

 Then where white man poor Oran tore, 



I'll sit me down, and soon will die. 



TRANSLATION FROM A SONNET OF METASTASIO. 



STRANGER! my waves were born far, far from here, 

 For I by birth am a mountain-stream; 

 Tile champaign and the mead, unble&t I deem, 

 But rocks I love, rough rocks and shadows drear. 



He harms not me nor mine, yon summer sun, 



For many a grot and cooling cave have I ; 



And wiiile far deeper streams all frozen lie, 

 My waves unseen and unmolested run. 



Thrice happy thus, so tranquil and so pure, 



Heedless of sun.-hine and of day, I creep, 

 Known to myself, but to the world obscure. 



Thrice happy thus, I travel to the deep," 

 And soon shall rest contented and secure, 



Hush'd in the grave where all my fathers sleep. 



THE VINE AND THE YEW-TREE. 

 [From the Morning Herald.] 



MILD shone the moon, as near yon abbey wall 

 A pensive stranger took his lonely way; 

 1 heard him all mankind ungrateful call, 

 And wish his heart as pitiless as they. 



Sudden 



