" 
1805.]  Extraéts from the Port-folio of a Man of Letters. CAG 
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And, fportive, round our darling boy 
Would frifk and bound, and fkip for joy, 
' Attentive view yourfpark’ling eye, 
And with a bafhful airdraw nigh ; 
While, you, perhaps, in him might ei 
Some known hereditary grace, 
His father’s action or his uncle’s face: f 
Our dog would bark his friendly found, 
And pufs for pleafure purr around ; 
While J, my friend, your hand would prefs, 
And clafp you to my faithful breaf, 
Where Mem’ry every grace can give 
That bids you on her tablet live. 
i 
ELiIza. 
wake 
ST. HERGERT’s ISLE. 
[St. Herbert’s Ifle is diftinguifhed among the 
clufter of iflets in the lake of Derwent 
Water, by having long been the folitary 
refidence of the hermit whofe name it 
bears; the friend of St, Cuthbert, and 
contemporary with Ida | ; 
GPIRIT of HerverT! would’ ft thou know 
Whofe feet thy folitude invade ? 
(That defert ifle, thy home below, 
Where yet thy fainted duft is laid) 
Reft! reft! I would with awe explore 
Where ftood thy folitary fhed, 
“With fingle mat and turfy floor, 
That ne’er received the ftranger’s tread. 
O! reft1—D1l mufe that yon yrey ftone 
Was hallowed by thy daily pray’r, 
When thou didft feek the heavenly throne 
With bended knee and bofom bare ; 
That here, by Evening’s pale blue light, — 
Thou did’f the folemn chaunt prolong, 
Till rofe the ftarry hoft of Night 
To catch thy unrefponded fong. 
And oft beneath that time-bleach’d tree, 
That ftoops to Derwent’s gloffy wave, 
O' haply that green bank might be 
Thy pillow then, as now thy grave. 
Oft mid thofe boughs of filvery hue 
Some bird its varied pinions laid, 
And round that trunk an infe&t crew 
Their little life’s short voyage made. 
But fummer morn or wint’ry hour 
No human pilgrim hailed thine ife,_. 
There never bloomed one vernal flower 
In fitter woman’s foftering fmile. 
That datelefs bark, inmold decay, 
May tell that many an age has run 
Since here, befide no kindred clay, 
Abides thy fhade, a lonely one. 
The nations once in vernal bud 
Have dropt like leaves far-ftrown and fear, 
Anddeep in Time’s o’erwhel ming flood 
Lie empires lapfed, and worlds that were. 
But here no change the cycles bring, 
The Spirit of each parted year 
Glides by unhail’d of living thing— 
For Silence guards thy fepulehre. ~ 
Not here the rofy foot of Mirth, 
Nor Labour’s plodding fole is traced, 
Unfurrowed lies the holy e rth, 
A dark and never-bloom 7g wafte. 
But oft as-with exploring eye 
The Stranger hails this facred fod, 
So oft be breathes, in whifper’d Ggh, 
A requiem to the Man of God}, 
E. B. 
ODE TO FORTUNE. 
A REMONSTRANCE. 
GAVE Poverty and pale Difeafe, 
Say what has life that cannot pleafe, 
If we would join a little fenfe 
To health and cleanly competence ? 
There are (’tis fearce within belief) 
Coxconibs and dainty prigs in grief, ; 
Who, though amidft the joys they live 
Which Nature and which Art can givey 
Dead to enjoyment, ftill remain 
Dupes to imaginary pain 5 
By grief their depth of genius meafure, 
Mere blockheads in purfuit of pleafure ! 
Dame Fortune, this is all your doing, 
Leading thefe happy men to ruin: 
°Tis {aid you’re blind, and fo beltow 
Your favours on thefe men of woe, 
You muft be deaf as well as blind, 
To fuch vile grumblers to be kind, 
Or, ftunn’d by the perpetual cry 
Of children rifing fix feet high, 
You'd learn, in future, to difpenfe 
Your {mileson men of worth and fenfe. 
Exira&s from the Port-folio of a Man of. Letters. 
A PUN. 
GENTLEMAN meeting an old 
friend, whom he had not feen for a 
long time, congratulated him on lately 
coming tothe pofleffion of a large landed 
eltate. «¢ There was fucha report,” replied 
the other, «* but you may depend upon it 
that it was quite groundle/s.” 
A SIMILE. 
There is a bird in the Weft Indies, 
who, without having a note of his own, 
can imitate the notes of any other bird 
which he has ever heard. ‘There are ma- 
ny fuch black birds in both eur univerfi- 
ties ; fome call them fcholars and great 
geniufes, and others give them the more 
Ti2 familiar 
wy 
