1308.] Extracts from the Port-folia of a Man OP Letiens. | paw 
IMITATION OF A MUCH ADMIRED ODE OF 
HORACE TO HIS FRIEND, ZLIUS LA- 
MIA. 
By JAMES HORATIO RUDGE, Ese. 
HE Muse has ever clainfed the part 
To soothe the soul, and chear the heart ; 
To banish to the Cretan shore 
The grieis that oft have pain’d before, 
Faithful to thee, there rest my fears, 
Distracting thoughts, and wasting cares : 
Serenely mild I watt away 
The gloom of each revoiving day 5 
Careless 1 view the purpled crown, 
Nor dread stern Tiridates’ frown. 
Here let me touch the soothing lyre, 
And the Pimpean Muse inspire. 
Oh! thou who lov’st the crystal spring, 
The wanton ivy hither bring ; ; 
And deck, in amaranthine bowers, 
My Lamia with unfading flowers. 
Eternal laurels round him twine, 
Adorn’d with chaplets such as thine. 
Come hither, thy assistance bring, 
His praises thou alone can’st sing ; 
That praise must all imperfect be, 
Unsung by Orpheus, or by thee. 
‘That task I will to thee resign, 
Nor tempt it on such lays as mine ; 
I will the pleasing theme iorbear, 
And sweeter music list to hear. 
Oh! come, ye sister Muses come ! 
And let the harp be newly strung 5 
Come haste, and waft to deathless fame 
My Lamiia’s bright and honor’d name: 
That name, oh! fix in realms above, 
At once my envy and my love. 
Bigods, Nov. 23, 1807, 
a 
LINES, 
WRITTEN, IMPROMPTU, ON THE BACK 
OF A MEMORIAL WHICH THE AUTHOR 
WAS REQUESTED TO PRESENT TOONE 
OF THE LATE MINISTERS. 
By MAJOR CHARLES JAMES. 
WES ! wants of ev’ry sort and size 
His !ordship’s pity claim; 
For, clear himself of all disguise, 
He thinks mankind the same. 
They always take him by his heart: 
The reason would you know ? 
Because it is his weakest part, 
And never answers—No. 
EEE 
THE BRITISH WARRIOR, 
BY THE SAME. 
"THE soldicr knows thar ev’ry ball 
A certain billet®* bears ; 
And, whether doom’d to rise or fall, | 
Dishcnour’s all he fears. 
To guard old England is his plan: 
Unaw’d and undismay’d, 
He fights her battles like a man, 
And by her thanks is paid. 
SO : 
* The constable’s ticket which entitles a 
soldier to quarters, is so called, 
To foreign climes he cheerly goes, 
By duty only driv’n; 
And when he falls, his country knows 
For whom his life was giv’n. 
Recorded on the front of day, 
The warrior’s deeds appear 5 
For him the poet breathes his lay, 
The virgin sheds her tear. 
Regardless of each hostile aim, 
Thus Nelson’s godlike mind, 
Absorb’d and full of England’s fame, 
To England was cenfin’d. 
No selfish views could steal a part 
Or add one private care; 
The bali that rush’d upon his heart, 
Found England seated there. C. J 
Ra 
THE SENSIBLE MAN’S REPLY TOA SCURS 
: RILOUS REMARK. . 
BY THE SAME. 
Ut quantum Generi demas Virtutibus addas, Hors 
ou say that charity first gave 
The knowledge | possess ; 
That 1 am grown a wealthy knave 
From scenes of low distress. 
That I am fortune’s child you provey 
If what you say be true 5 
. And ifa knave ought to move 
Much higher than I do. 
For when I meet the men who rises 
And see whiat things succeed, 
I sometimes think the good and wise 
Mistaken in their creed. 
They, poor believing creatures ! think 
hat worth’s its own reward 5 
Whilst thousands, who trom virtue shrink, 
The very name discard. 
Relying on myself alone, 
Through iife 1 work my way; 
And whilst [ give each man his own, 
I’m sure, as good as they. 
Much better! in the sight of him, 
Some genius whispers near, 
Who smiles at all the gauay trim, 
Which dazzies coxcombs here. 
To princes I have never bent 
Disgracefully my knee 5 
But to their ear those truths have sert, 
Which, Freedom! spring from thee! 
The wisdom of unerring ‘ate 
What coxcomb can deny ? 
See Robespierre direct the state ! 
And Louis* doem’d to die! 
See Europe tremble at that name 
Which Corsica scarce read; 
Whilst wand’ring Louist dares not clal ny 
But asks his daily bread. ~ 
ee 
TO THE GLOW-WORM. 
By Rev. JOHN PROCTER, oF TRINITY 
HALL, CAMBRIDGE. 
HEN Sol! resigns this world to night. 
Behold! thou ’shed’st thy feeble ray ; 
And, twinkling with a borrow’d light, 
Do’stall thou can’st to make it day.— 
* Louis XVI, f+ Louis XVII. 
Thee, 
