235 Poetry-The Villager's Lay. and overwhelms the remotest boun- 236 the superiority of Christianity to Deism Oswestry, Oct. 12. Poetry. THE VILLAGER'S LAY. CANTO X.-BY PALEMON. Now deeper shades advance, retiring light grey Of peaceful eve; pale orphan of the day; And beauty's undulating line extends Sweet hour unwreck'd by elemental strife! But the highest glory of Christianity arises from that system of mediation which is the harmony of the awful and amiable attributes of the Eternal, opens a door of hope to a fallen world, and the certain prospect of unending bliss to all the "ransom'd of the Lord." Where is the religion that can disclose a method of recovery, so "honourable to God and so safe to man?" What philosophic mind (unaided by revelation) can suggest a plan of forgiveness which does not bear on the ruin of the Adieu, dear Village! rural scenes, adien! throne of God? Absolute benevolence Sweet train of wand'ring thought,-farewell can be the alone ground of depend-Home draws my feet; eclips'd diurnal lightyou! ence ; but the exercise of this towards Now Cynthia's pale half-open'd eye of night, a being on whom justice has a claim, And thousand stars, shine meekly on the breast would involve such an inconsistency Of tranquil nature lapp'd in dewy rest; · in the Divine procedure, as the perfec- Reminding man, devotion's eye to raise, tion of his nature and operations To breathe a prayer, and lisp a note of praise, must exclude. This subject has per- Wraps earth in nightly rest and man in love. To Him, whose starry mantle, stretch'd above, plexed some of the wisest sages of antiquity; they have been lost in the dreary regions of wild conjecture; out of which nothing can explore a way, but those effulgent rays which beam forth from the glorious gospel of the blessed God. Dome of creation! wonder-wrought design, Primeval nature's attribute divine! The scroll immense-immeasurably spread, God's glorious record! indistinctly read By all his sons:-by him with savage grace, Who reads no letter, save on nature's face; Who hears no voice point to creation's plan, If then the Christian revelation is so Assert its birth, and tell him he is man; With silent wonder, thy diverging sphere essential to correct views of the cha-Inspires his soul, and points his off'ring there. racter and proceedings of God; and if no scheme apart from it can furnish the information we need; how far Deism, in rejecting it, acts accordantly with sound reason, I demand its advocates to determine. When I began these remarks, it was my intention to take a more comprehensive view of the instances in which Forsook of truth's fair beam, his soul, though Strikes from thy glories one corruscant spark; Fair azure vault! what eye seen thy 237 The Villager's Lay, &c. Poetry One eye hath glanc'd; nor did thy wonders dart, That heavenly truth, the simplest Christian read, He sinks, and plunges to the depths of night! maze, Pour'd on philosophy, oh! immortal blaze; That harmony divine which rules the whole, Allur'd his reason, but left blank his soul. While his proud spirit in its rapturous flight, Bath'd in the region of the fount of light: From that warm source into his darken'd soul He felt no hallow'd emanation roll, He saw no Power, that with almighty will Gemm'd night's blue concave with transcendent skill, But knowing much still less, as more he saw, Knew he the uthor of great nature's law; And though with him the circling spheres he trod, He spurn'd-believ'd not-knew not-prais'd not God. Fair azure vault when winter's northern blast A glist'ring robe of snows around had cast; Unknowing he to mark the comet's track, And when the comet's awful splendour blaz'd, Would guide it safely past the flaming sun. Unknown to him, his systems and his name ; Flash'd new-born light in its created hour, | 238 When all the sons of God together sang→→ -He view'd it, as the deep unfathom'd realm, DEATH OF A YOUNG LADY. FROM her cheek has fled the glowing hue, And her eyes have lost their heav'nly blue, And her lips so late of ruby red, Pale and inanimate, tell her dead: The ringlets roll on her breast of snow, Which erst with rapture was wont to glow, But never again will heave the sigh, Nor glow with generous sympathy. To the grave she's borne by weeping friends, And the bursting sigh each bosom rends; Her spirit freed from its mortal clay, To elysian shades swift wings its way. Priestgate, Peterborough. J. R. EDWARD AND MATILDA, Canto the First. HARD by the borders of a fragrant grove, With equal love, returned his ardent fire. 239 Poetry-Edward and Matilda, &c. Searce had gay Sol in golden chariot driv'n Since first they dwelt in this their snug retreat, Alas the time, in an unguarded hour, Canto the Second. WHILE through the cupola of lofty trees, The pallid moon appears as silver bright; Still on Matilda Edward's mind was bent, ceed; Scarce had he enter'd at a gloomy wood, 240 Till an old ruin, open'd to his sight, And creeping ivy most delib'rate crawls A light that issued through the broken wall, "Oh! spare me, spare me," echo whisper'd Then swift as light'ning through the court he And to a pond'rous door his strength applies, When in the corner of the hall appears, When O! what horrors broke upon his sight, A vile assassin o'er a female form, His reeking dagger with her blood still warm; Pierces his heart, and brings him to the ground: A sudden shiv'ring strikes his manly form, warm; His lips turn pale, his heart froze to its core, LINES ON A SKULL, Brought from the Field of Waterloo, and placed in a Hermitage in Wales. In this lone spot, oh friend or stranger! Start not this human wreck to view, Birth to its silent owner gave, We all are equal in the grave. 241 Poetry-Elegy on the late Beilby Porteus. Whether in fight to perish greatly, Or in a palace rich and stately, Or stretch'd on straw, it matters not; Is, how we liv'd ?-not, when we died? R. urn, The roses bloom, the circling laurels twine, Ah! wherefore say to him alone denied? smile? This silence hence, thrice happy envied lot, Thy classic page with purest precept fraught, Or from the future tear its dark disguise, * Westminster Abbey. 242 ... How then in sable weeds thy sons array'd Would weep their folly, and their crimes deplore; Too late, alas, that fruitless tribute paid, Yet, grandeur, hear, when o'er the dark unknown With all the paltry joys of mortal sense. And rob'd in thunder reassumes her right. With anguish wrung beneath her piercing frown, MRS. Barton, who resides upon a farm in the parish of Mansfield, had for some time observed one of her hens to be in a lingering state: the hen dying a few days ago, curiosity prompted Mrs. B. to examine into the cause of its death; but in attempting to draw it, she took hold of a substance which she was unable to remove: one of her men being present, immediately took his knife and opened the fowl, when, to their utter astonishment, they discovered a large toad, which had grown fast to the side of the hen!! ARCHDEACON PALEY. In a stage coach, in which Paley was travelling from the North, was a petty tradesman from a town near the Archdeacon's residence, who gave himself airs, and expressed dissatisfaction at the accommodations on the road. On the arrival of the coach at a capital inn, the passengers were shewn into a large, well-furnished room, where every thing was too good for the most fastidious person to find the least fault. "This is tolerably comfortable," said the pompous passenger, "but after all it is not like home."- Very unli home, indeed, Sir," said Paley. 66 243 Destruction of the Caxton Printing-office. DESTRUCTION OF THE CAXTON PRINT ING-OFFICE BY FIRE. (With an Engraving.) ON Tuesday, January 30th, 1821, a most dreadful fire broke out in the Caxton Printing-office, Liverpool, which, in a few hours, reduced this lofty and extensive pile of buildings to a heap of ruins. The fire was first publicly discovered about one o'clock in the morning; and the alarm being given, some of the people employed on the establishment, and who lived on and near the premises, were roused from their beds. These immediately gave notice to others who lived in the vicinity; and all, with the utmost expedition, hastened to the awful spot, to render all the assistance in their power in extinguishing the flames. The engines were instantly called; but, unfortunately, they had been previously conducted to another fire which had just happened in the northern part of the town; so that nearly an hour elapsed from the first discovery of the fire to the time of their arrival. The fire first appeared in a small apartment in the north-west end of the composing-room. This apartment contained old type, and sundry stores of various kinds, together with waste proofs, and was only occasionally visited. Here it is probable that it remained a considerable time, preying upon such articles as lay within its range, until it had acquired strength to burst forth into one general blaze. From this room the flames ascended to the rooms above, which were filled with books, sheets, and numbers; and in less than an hour the upper stories exhibited an extended volume of flame. The men, on entering the building, hastened first to the press-room, in the northern end of which they discovered fire falling from the small room above, in which it probably originated. They then ascended the stairs, and attempted to enter the composing-room, but this was so completely filled with smoke and fire, that they were compelled to retreat, without being able to secure some valuable manuscripts which lay on different frames, where they had been working on the preceding day. The fire then communicated from room to room in its descent, until the whole building about three o'clock presented nothing but a bed of fire, or an imbodied flame. 244 About three o'clock the roof fell in. This event was announced by the mounting fire, which rose to a tremendous height above the building, carrying into the air flakes of burning paper, which whirled around in a most awful manner, and apparently setting the whole firmament in a blaze. The windows at this time were wholly demolished by the fire; so that the current of air which the apertures admitted, gave new vigour to the flames, and augmented the conflagration. The engines unhappily arrived too late, either to extinguish the fire, or to preserve any part of the building, the devouring element having obtained such an ascendancy, as to bid defiance to all opposition. In the meanwhile, as the fire increased, the various floors successively gave way, imparting in their burning descent an additional stimulus to the flames, which seemed to triumph in their acquisition of new combustible matter. The spectacle, at this time, was dreadfully sublime. The paper in the air appeared like balloons on fire; and a considerable part of the town was illuminated with the light that the flames emitted. The burning fragments were whirled in various di rections, covering the ground with the memorials of desolation, to an extent of nearly two miles. About four o'clock a large portion of the eastern wall fell in with a horrid crash; but this, instead of deadening the fire, gave a new momentary impulse to the flames, which, gathering round the materials, retained their wonted vigour, and thus gained an opportunity of issuing from the sides, and pouring obthe fiery inundation without any struction. The men who managed the engines, on finding that all efforts to extin guish the fire were unavailing, turned their attention to the adjacent buildings, pouring streams upon them, to prevent a communication of the conti guous flames. Many of these were so close to the burning pile, that had the walls near them fallen in that direction they must inevitably have been involved in the common wreck. These walls, however, providentially stood, until the fire had abated, and the wind being favourable for the preservation of the contiguous cottages, not one of them was set on fire. The direction of the wind, during the conflagration, was nearly south, |