1805. ] 
enabled her to reply with great humour 
to many ill-natured things which were 
thrown out againft her. It has already 
been ob{erved that fhe was not handfome ; 
and yet fhe had a habit of continually fix- 
ing her eyes on the glaffes in any apart. 
ment where fhe happened to be. A lady 
of her acquaintance, fhocked at this incon- 
fiftency, once refolved to reproach her wich 
it in the company of feveral other perfons. 
*< There,’” faid fhe, “© is Madame Bourdie, 
for ever contempiating her own image.”"— 
«<< Yes, it is true,”’ replied fhe ; *s I with 
to know by experience whether it is pofli- 
ble to habituate one’s felf to.uglinefs.”” 
A few days afterwards the fame lady 
having compofed a ballad, carried it to 
Madame Viot, requefting herto fing, and 
play it on the piano forte.’ ‘* But,”’ ex- 
claimed Madame Bourdie, ** you know I 
have no voice.” ** You have voice enough 
to fing my verles,”’ replied her vifitor; ‘I 
intreat you not to refufé me the pleafure I 
requeft of you.” Madame, rejoined 
Bourdie, fharply, je fifflera:* votre ro- 
mance, fi vous infifiez; mais pour la chan- 
ter, cela m eft impyjfible. ; 
In converfation, the fometimes uttered 
fevere things, but without any admixture 
of ill nature. La Harpe one day acknow- 
ledged to her that, after due confideration, 
he had faid his confitzor.' “* Yes,”’ replied 
* fhe ; ‘* but you have fkipped the credo.”” 
She never compoled more than one epi- 
gram, and that was on Mirabeau. She 
recited it only once, and with fuch rapidity 
* Siffer fignifies either to qhifile or to 
bifs. 
Original Poetry. O45 
that it was impoflible to retain it. She 
conttantly refufed:to repeat it, but thofe 
who were prefent declare that it exceeded 
every thing of her compofition, in energy 
of idea and expreflion, 
The brilliancy of her undertanding was 
furpafled only by her fenfibility aad foli-. 
citude to oblige thole whom fhe \oved. 
It was to the fiiendthip of Madame Viot 
that Madame du Boccage was indebted 
for the penfion granted her by the govern- 
ment at the latter end of her lite, and for 
which the latter had an o» portunity of tef- 
tifying her gratitude. About a year and 
a half before her death, Madame du Boe. 
cage being taken very ill; made her will, 
and fent for Madame Viot. ‘* Madame,”” 
faid fhe, on her arrival, “© I am under 
great ubligations to you; you have loved, 
you have celebrated, you have ferved me. 
I have obtained a penfion for which I am 
indebted you. During my vifil to Rome, 
Pope Benediét XIV. prefented me with a 
miniature, whichis a charming copy cf the 
Aldobrandini wedding. It was, he 
told me, a reward for my talents; an ex- 
preffion which I may be allowed to repeat, 
fince he believed that I poffefled fome, and 
you have exprefled as much. Be my 
heivefs; but enjoy before my death what 
you have fo weil deferved.”’ 
By a fingular fatality, thefe two friends 
died almoft on the fame day. One expired 
with philofophical ferenity and compofure ; 
but Madame Viot was carried off by an 
inflammation of the bowels, attended with 
the mof dreadful fymptoms. She. diced 
on the 7th of Auguft, r802. 
ORIGINAL POETRY. 
LINES 
@N HEARING OF THELOSS OF THE ABER-~ 
GAVENNY EAST INDIAMAN, WRECKED 
OFF PORTLAND, JANUARY, 1805. 
BY LAURA SOPHIA TEMPLE. 
They have but fallen before us; 
For one day we mutt fall. 
Why doft thou build the hall? 
winged days ! 
Thou lookeft from thy towers to-day, 
Yeta few years, and the blaft of the defert 
comes ; 
It howls in thy empty court, 
And whiftles round thy half-worn fhield. 
OssI4n. 
‘THOU know’ft, my God! with what a 
fadden’d heart 
I heard the dreadful 
thoughts 
That harrow’d up my foul, and bade her paufe 
Montury Mac. No. 127, 
Son of the 
tale.\ Whitnefs the 
To view the awful judgments of thy hand, 
When, wafted from the deep, the tidings 
came! 
And oh! for thofe whofe horror-ftricken ears 
Drank in fome worfhipp’d 
Fate 
To fwell her mournful lift—-whofe frenzied 
eyes, 
Withing to doubt, yet forc’d to yield belief, 
Gaz’d on the page that doom’d each hope to 
die, 
Each funny Hope, that o’er th’ enamour’d foul 
Curl’d like the mantling tendrils of the vine. 
Methinks | hear the uproar of the waves, 
The -war of winds!-—Hark to that yelling 
guft 
That {weeps the main! and view yon frowne 
ing fky . 
Gend’ring the death-fraught form! ¢’en acw 
tis ripe! 
di Ses 
mame, decreed by 
