1804. ] Sketch of the Life and Charaéler of the late Dr. Priefiley. 355 
A MAROON SONG. 
HASTE, hafte, my companions! the night- 
dews are over; 
From the mift-fkirted mountains the fha- 
dows are flown ; 
The bright morning-ftar calls to the chafe of 
the boar, 
And the rock’s fecret echoes are waiting 
his groan. 
Over the deep-tangled thicket our toils fhall 
prevail, 
In vain to the fteep-cliff the favage fhall 
run 3 
Where the cocoa waves gay to the balm- 
icented gaie, 
And the aloe expands its tall fpires to the 
fun. 
Ye fpirits, that triumph’d in death o’er your 
foe; 
But left the dark fons of your race to com- 
plain ; 
Ye that bade, in your anguith, the heirs of 
your woe 
Be the heirs of your hatred, the chiefs of 
difdain ; 
If ye fail in your pride on the fun’s flanting 
beam, 
If ye robe your ftern fhades in the mift’s 
fleeting form ; 
Or, if rather ye joy in the lightning’s fierce 
gleam, 
And ftride on the whirlwind, and trample 
the fiorm : 
Ocome on your clouds, o’er the wide-rolling 
wave, 
To the hills of our freedom in triumph re- 
pair ; . 
For the blue-mantled mountains are trod by 
the brave, 
And the dark-dwelling fons of defiance are 
there. 
Hark! the horn’s fwelling tones call - to 
danger away, 
And when the ftern courfe of our pleafure 
is paft ; is 
Though the whirlwinds of heav’n wak 
around us their fway, 
We will heed not the tempeft, and fing to 
the blaft. 
Hafte, hafte, my companions! the night- 
dews areo’er ; 
From the mift-skirted mountains the fha- 
dows are flown; 
The bright morning-ftar calls to the chafe of 
the boar, 
And the rock’s fecret echoes are waiting 
his groan. 
Briffol. P.M. Janus. 
ee 
SYLVIA’S TOMB. 
pis night, the fairy landfcape flies, 
The flock to leafy giens withdrawn ; 
Afcending fhades ufurp the fkies, 
And veil in fhad’wy miits the lawn. 
Ah! ’mid this deep funereal gloom, 
My breaft what rending pangs invade ! 
As, wrapt in fhades, I mark the tomb, 
The tomb, where Sylvia’s duft is laid. 
Qh nymph! in earth’s cold arms enfhrin’d, 
For thee ftill frequent heaves the figh 5 
For thee, in fofteft bloom confign’d 
To fade, to languith, and to die. 
What, though thefe humble fhades beneath, 
Thy name no trophy’d fhrine declares 5 
Still duteous blooms the votive wreath, 
That friendthip’s faithful hand prepares. 
Here, foe to {plendour’s mirthful train, 
Unfeen, the mufing minftrel ftrays, 
To breathe in fhades th’ elegiac ftrain, 
And drefs thy lonely fod with bays. 
There oft, at ev’ning’s folenin hour, 
Soft Pity wails thy haplefs doom 5 
And, fpite of time’s lethean pow’r, 
The tear ftill trembles o’er thy tomb. 
MEMOIRS OF EMINENT PERSONS. 
SKETCH of the LIFE and CHARACTER 
of the late DR. PRIESTLEY. 
The fubje& of this Memoir has occupied too 
great a fpace in the literary hiftory of his 
country noc to require an ample biographi- 
cal record. This will probably be given 
in due time, by fome writer well qualified 
for the tafk, aided by authentic and origi- 
nal documents. Meanwhile, one who 
loved and revered him when living, and 
will ever honour his memory, begs leave 
to offer to the public the following brief 
and imperfe&, but he hopes not inaccurate, 
nor partial, view of what he was and 
what he performed. 
OSEPH PRIESTLEY, LL.D.F.R.S. 
and member of many foreign literary 
focieties, was born on March 13, old ftyle, 
1733, at Field-head, in the parifh of Bir- 
ftall, in the Wedlt-riding of “Yorkhhire. 
His fathcr was. engaged in the clothing 
manufacture, and both parents were per- 
fons of refpectability among the Calvn- 
ific Diffenters. Jofeph was from/an ear- 
ly pesiod, brought up in the houle of Mr. 
Joicph Keighley, who had married his 
aunt. A fondnefs for reading was one 
of the firft paffions he difplayed 5 and it 
probably induced his friends to change 
their intentions of educating him for trade, 
and deftine him for a learned profeflion. 
He was fent toa ichool at Batley, the 
mafter of which poffefled no common fhare 
4 Az of 
