1806. ] > 
Auny pt Tikeravcoy. 
See yonder blufhing vine-tree grow, 
And clafp a dry and wither’d plane, 
And round its youthful tendrils throw 
To fhelter it from, fun and rain, 
That faplefs trunk, in former time, 
Gavecovert from the noon-tide blaze, 
And taught the infant fhoot to climb 
Which now the pious debt repays. | 
And thus, kind powers, a partner give, 
To fharein my profperity, 
Hang on my ftrength while yet I live, 
And do me honour when I die. 
The wifh of having our memory pre- 
ferved after death by thofe who were the 
objects of our love and affection during 
life, feems to be implanted by nature ia 
the human mind ; and perhaps no feeling 
is more univerfal than that which in{pires 
us witha wifh that the fond partner of our 
cares and joys may never beftow on another 
the fame kind of attachment which we 
have confidered as our exclufive right.— 
Yet there are not wanting examples to 
every one’s recollection, of the greateft af- 
fe&tion felt during life, without the fmall- 
eft folicitude concerning its continuance 
afterwards. A French gentleman, paf- 
tionately fond of his wife, prefented her, 
at her own requeft, with the well-known 
ftory in Petronius of the Matron of Ephe- 
fus ; on a blank page he added fome verles, 
exhorting the fair reader to continue her 
affgftion for him unimpaired whille he 
lived to feel and to enjoy it ; but he con- 
cludes with fome fprightlinefs, by avow- 
ing that he has no objection to fharing, 
after death, the fate of the Ephefian huf- 
band :— : 
The fair Ephefian matron’s fault, 
Who took her hufband from his vault, 
Shall ne’er maké me uneafy 3 . 
While living, love but me alone, 
But, pretty Sylvia! when I’m gone, 
Then hang me if it pleafe ye. 
J think no reprefentations of the happi- 
nefs and excellence of the marriage {tate 
are fo tender and affecting as thofe which 
peint the affection that furvivesthe tumul- 
tvous feafon of defire and rapture, thar 
fmooths the ‘* hard pilgrimage’ of oid- 
age, and fheds its {weet baim over the 
bed of ficknefs and death. This pure, 
this fublime affection, is moft beautifully 
defcribed in many of our faveurite na- 
tional fongs and finaller poems, and, in 
that point of view, they. acquire an inte- 
geft beyond the power of mere poetry to 
excite. Who doesnot feel his heart more 
frongly affeéted by the ruflic tenternefs 
Epigrams, Fragments, Sc. fram the Greek. i ae 
of Burns’s.** John Anderfon, my Joc,*” 
and by the natural. implicity of Percy's 
«¢ Oh Nancy wilt thou go with me,” thin 
by the moft elevated lays of the moft ac- 
mired poets? The fame kind of merit 
recommends to our notice the following 
elegant lines of Paulus Silentiarius ; 
Tleompiros eos Didwwe Ten puTige 
For me thy wrinkles have more charms, 
Dear Lydia! than a {moother face 3 
Id rather fold thee in my arms, 
Than younger, fairer, nymphs embrace. 
To me thy autumn is more fweet, 
More precious, than their vernal rofe = 
Their fummer warms not with a heat 
So potent as thy winter glows. 
Tn the fair and courteous days of France, 
when a gay and half-romantic gallantry 
was the univerfal tafte of the young and 
old, the lofty and the humble, Madame 
la Marefchale de Mirepoix, already in the’ 
winter of her days, but with more wit 
and warmth of imagination remaining 
than moft of the youngeft and gayelt ladies 
of the Court, fent to her old admirer, 
Monf. le Duc de Nivernois, a lock of her 
grey hair, accompanied by fome very 
pretty and elegant verfes, defcriptive of 
the regard fhe felt for him, which age 
could not extinguifh nor diminith, The 
reply of the Duke is one of the fweetett 
{pecimens of united tendernefs and gaiety 
that [ ever remember to have met with : 
Quoi! vous parlez de cheveux blancs ? 
Laifions, laiffons courir le tems : 
Que nous importe fon. ravage ? 
Lestendres ceurs en font exempts3 
Les Amours font toujours enfants, 
Et les Graces font de tout age. 
Pour moi, Themire, je le fens, 
Je fuis toujours dans mon primtems, 
Quand je vous offre mon homage 
Si je n’avois que dix-huit ans, 
Je pouvois aimer plus long-tems, 
Mais non pas aimer d’avantage. 
For the confolation of thofe Englifh ta- 
dies, who, like Madame de Mirepoix, 
are growing grey, and to affure them that 
the aged themfzlves, although not likely 
to make new conquefts, have at leaf the 
power of retaining the admirers of their 
youth, I venture to infert this rude copy 
of a beautiful original ; 
Talk not of fnowy locks—-have done— 
Time runs unchang’d, and let him ron— 
To us what bodes the tyrant’s rage, 
He knows not tender hearts to fever, 
The little Loves.are infants ever, 
The Graces are of every age. 
