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 nigh,
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 ruin must proceed!
Nor boast thy power! for know it is decreed,
Thy freedom lost, thy power shall be no more!

HENRY BROOKE.

Ireland-1706-1789.

Dr. Sheridan had the honour of educating Henry Brooke, whose early genius was noticed by Swift and by Pope. When he was a very yonng man, his Aunt left to his guardianship, her only daughter, a beautiful girl, between eleven 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 wite, 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 impoverished himself by a thoughtless generosity, and wa, 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!

Let lean-ey'd Honesty bear

His merited weight of care,
And phlegm and consience dwell
In cynical tub or cell;

But all ye lovers of game, and glee,

And feast, and frolick, come follow me!
To pleasure, and prank, and pastime free,
Come follow, follow, follow me!

The pedanted priest, who fain

Would ride, but wants a rein ;
To moral us into controul,

Would sour the jovial soul

The Priest is cunning and so are we;

Then Priest, and people, come follow me! From scruple, and qua'm, and conscience free, Come follow, follow, follow me !

Tune.

A I R.

Dole and woe fa' our Cat.'

FOR often my mammy has told,

And sure she is wonderous wise,

In cities that all you behold,

Is a fair, but a faithless disguise.

That the modes of a court education,

Are train-pits and traitors to youth; And the only fine language in fashion, A tongue that is foreign to truth,

Where Honour is barely an oath,

Where knaves are with noblemen classed; Where Natures' a stranger to both,

And Love an old tale of times past.

Where laughter no pleasure dispenses,
Where smiles are the envoys of art;
Where joy lightly swims on the senses,
But never can enter the heart.

Where hopes and kind hugs are trepanners, Where Virtue's divorced from success; Where cringing goes current for manners, And worth is no deeper than dress.

Where Favour creeps lamely on crutches,

Where Friendship is nothing but face;

And the title of duke, or of duchess,
Is all that entitles to Grace.