But say,

if there our steps were brought,

Would these their power to please retain?
Say, would not restless, roving thought
Turn back to busy scenes again?
O strange formation of the mind!
Still though the present fair we find,
Still tow'rds the absent thus inclined,
Thus fix'd on objects left behind!

ODE.

Written after reading some modern Love-verses:

TAKE hence this tuneful triflers' lays!
I'll hear no more the unmeaning strain
Of Venus' Loves, and Cupids' darts,
And killing eyes, and wounded hearts;
All flattery's round of fulsome praise,
All falsehood's cant of fabled pain..

Bring me the Muse, whose tongue has told
Love's genuine plaintive tender tale;

Bring me the Muse, whose sounds of woe
'Midst deaths' dread scenes so sweetly flow,
When friendships' faithful breast lies cold,
When beauty's blooming cheek is pale:

1

Bring these-I like their grief sincere;
It sooths my sympathetick gloom :
For, oh! love's genuine' pains I've born,
And deaths' dread rage has made me mourn;
I've wept o'er friendship's early bier,
And dropt the tear on beauty's tomb.

ODE.

I HATE that drum's discordant sound,
Parading round, and round, and round,
To thoughtless youth it pleasure yields,
And lure's from cities and from fields,
To sell their liberty for charms
Of tawdry lace, and glittering arms;
And when ambition's voice commands,

To march, and fight, and fall, in foreign lands.

I hate that drum's discordant sound,
Parading round, and round, and round :
To me it talks of ravaged plains,
And burning towns, and ruin'd swains,
And mangled limbs, and dying groans,
And widow's tears, and orphans moans ;
And all that misery's hand bestows,
To fill the catalogue of human woes.

RENOWN'D Britannia! lov'd parental land!
Regard thy welfare with a watchful eye!
Whene'er the weight of want's afflicting hand
Wakes in thy vales the poor's persuasive cry –

When wealth enormous sets the oppressor high,
When bribes thy ductile senators command,
And slaves in office freemen's rights withstand,
Then mourn, for then thy fate approacheth nigh!

Not from perfidious Gaul or haughty Spain,
Nor all the neighbouring nations of the main,
Though leagued in war tremendous round thy
shore-

But from thyself thy r. 'n must proceed!

Nor boast thy power! tur know it is decreed, Thy freedom lost, thy power shall be no more!

HENRY BROOKE.

Ireland- 1706-1783.

Dr. Sheridan had the honour of educating Henry Brooke, whose early genius was noticed by Swift and by Pope. When he was a very young man, his Aunt left to his guardianship, her only daughter, a beautiful girl, between cleven and twelve, with a slight portion. He placed her at a boarding-shool; but they became enamoured of each other; were secretly married, and Mrs. Brooke had her first child before she was fourteen.

Brooke removed to London, abandoning law for literature. The Prince of Wales patronised him, and he on his part espoused his patrons politicks, with such indiscreet and dangerous violence, that his wife, exerting all her influence, made him abandon all his prospects of advancement in this country, and return to his paternal seat. Here his brother and his brothers family, domesticated. with him; but he mpoverished himself by a thoughtless. generosity, and was obliged to mortgage, and at last to sell, his hereditary estate. He took a farm in its neigh

bourhood, and bore up well against adversity; till the death of his wife, (whom for nearly fifty years he had loved tenderly) gave his intellects a shock which they never recovered. He was advanced in life himself, and his after productions all bear the marks of debility and derangement.

Brooke published proposals for printing, by subscription, the History of Ireland.

LITTLE JOHN AND THE GIANTS.

AIR.

Tune-' Ye Fairy Elves that be.

COME follow, follow me,

Ye jolly boys all, who be

Divested of constraint

From mortified saw or saint ;

To pleasure, and prank, and pastime free,

Come follow, follow, follow me!

To prank, and pleasure, and pastime free,

Come follow, follow, follow me!