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THE LOVE OF PRAISE.

en * The Shipwreck," which he published in 1762, and on wlich his etief claim to merit rests. Early in 1709 his “ Marine Dictionary" appeared which bas been spoken highly of by those who are capable of estimating its Denis In the latter part of the same year he embarked in the Aurora, for Lt, but the vessel was never heard of after she passed the Cape, so thai te poet of the Shipwreck may be supposed to have perished by the same speries of calamity which he had rehearsed." !

The subject of the Shipwreck and the fate of its author, bespeak an uncom Da partiality in its favor. If we pay respect to the ingenious scholar, who can produce agreeable verses amidst the shades of retirement or the shelves of his library, how much more interest must we take in the ship-boy on the bizh and giddy mast," cherishing refined visions of fancy at the hour which be may casually snatch from fatigue and danger! His poem has the sensible charm of appearing a transcript of reality, and from its vividness and power ti description, powerfully interests the feelings, and leaves a deep impression a ruth and nature on the mind.

What will not men attempt for sacred praise? The Love of Praise, howe'er conceal'd by art, Reigns, more or less, and glows, in every heart: The proud, to gain it, toils on toils endure; The modest shun it, but to make it sure. O'er globes and sceptres, now on thrones it swells; Now, trims the midnight lamp in college cells : 'Tis Tory, Whig; it plots, prays, preaches, pleads, Harangues in Senates, squeaks in Masquerades. Here, to Steele's humor makes a bold pretence; There, bolder, aims at Pulteney's eloquence. It aids the dancer's heel, the writer's head, And licaps the plain with mountains of the dead; Nor ends with life; but nods in sable plumes, Adorns our hearse, and flatters on our tombs.

Satire 1. THE LANGUID LADY. The languid lady next appears in state, Who was not born to carry her own weight; She lolis, reels, staggers, till some foreign aid To her own stature lists the feeble maid. Then, if ordain'd to so severe a doom, She, by just stages, journeys round the room: But, knowing her own weakness, she despairs To scale the Alps—that is, ascend the stairs. My fan! let others say, who laugh at toil; Fan! hood! glove! scarf! is her laconic style; And that is spoke with such a dying fall, That Betty rather sees, than hears the call : The motion of her lips, and meaning eye, Piece out th' idea her faint words deny. O listen with attention most profound! Her voice is but the shadow of a sound. And help! oh help! her spirits are so dead, One hand scarce lists the other to her head, If, there, a stubborn pin it triumphs o'er, She pants! she sinks away! and is no more. Let the robust and the gigantic carve, Life is not worth so much, she'd rather starve: But chew she must herself; ah, cruel fate! That Rosalinda can't by proxy eat.

THE VESSEL GOING TO PIECES.--DEATU OF ALBERT. THE COM

DIANDER.
With mournful look the seamen eyed the strand
Where death's inexorable jaws expand :
Swift froin their minds elapsed all dangers past,
As, dumb with terror, they beheld the last.
Now on the trembling shrouds, before, behind,
In mute suspense they mount into the wind
The Genius of the deep, on rapid wing,
The black eventful moment seem'd to bring,
The fatal Sisters, on the surge before,
Yoked their infernal horses to the prore.-
The steersmen now received their last command
To wheel the vessel sidelong to the strand.
Twelve sailors, on the foremast who depend,
High on the platform of the top ascend;
Fatal retreat! for while the plunging prow
Immerges headlong in the wave below,
Down-prest by watery weight the bowsprit bends,
And from above the stern deep crashing rends.
Beneatli her beak the floating ruins lie;
The foremast totters, unsustain'd on bigh:
And now the ship, fore-lifted by the sea,
Hurls the tall fabric backward o'er her lee;
While, in the general wreck, the faithful stay
Drags the main-topmast from its post away,
Flung from the mast, the seamen strive in vain
Through hostile floods their vessel to regain.
The waves they buffet, till, berest of strength,
Oerpower'd they yield to cruel fate at length,
The hostile waters close around their head,
They sink for ever, number'd with the dead!

Those who remain their fearful doom await,
Nor longer mourn their lost companions fate,

Campbell's Specimens, vol. VI. p. 58,

[graphic]

Satire v.

WILLIAM FALCONER. 1730-1769.

WILLIAM FALCONER was the son of a barber in Edinburgh, and was born in the year 1730. He had very few advantages of education, and in early life went to sea in the merchant service. He was afterwards mate of a vese sel that was wrecked in the Levant, and was one of three only, out of the crew, tiiat were saved; a catastrophie which formed the subject of his future

poem, « The Shipwreck," which he published in 1762, and on which lis chief claim to merit rests. Early in 1769 his “ Marine Dictionary” appeared, which has been spoken highly of by those who are capable of estimating its merits. In the latter part of the same year he embarked in the Aurora, for India, but the vessel was never heard of after she passed the Cape, “so that the poet of the Shipwreck may be supposed to have perished by the same species of calamity which he had rehearsed."

The subject of the Shipwreck and the fate of its author, bespeak an uncom mon partiality in its favor. If we pay respect to the ingenious scholar, who can procluce agreeable verses amidst the shades of retirement or the shelves of his library, how much more interest must we take in the “ship-boy on the high and giddy mast," cherishing refined visions of fancy at the hour which he may casually snatch from fatigue and danger! His poem has the sensible charm of appearing a transcript of reality, and from its vividness and power of description, powerfully interests the feelings, and leaves a deep impression otruth and nature on the mind.

THE VESSEL GOING TO PIECES.-DEATU OF ALBERT, TIE COM.

MANDER.
With mournful look the seamen eyed the strand
Where death's inexorable jaws expand :
Swift from their minds elapsed all dangers past,
As, dumb with terror, they beheld the last.
Now on the trembling shrouds, before, behind,
In mute suspense they mount into the wind-
The Genius of the deep, on rapid wing,
The black eventful moment seem'd to bring.
The fatal Sisters, on the surge before,
Yoked their infernal horses to the prore.
The steersmen now received their last coinmand
To wheel the vessel sidelong to the strand.
Twelve sailors, on the foremast who depend,
High on the platform of the top ascend;
Fatal retreat! for while the plunging prow
Immerges headlong in the wave below,
Down-prest by watery weight the bowsprit bendis,
And from above the stem deep crashing rends.
Beneath her beak the floating ruins lie;
The foremast totters, unsustain'd on bigh:
And now the ship, fore-lifted by the sea,
Hurls the tall fabric backward o'er her lee;
While, in the general wreck, the faithful stay
Drags the main-topmast from its post away,
Flung from the mast, the seamen strive in vain
Through hostile floods their vessel to regain.
The waves they buffet, till, berest of strength,
O'erpower'd they yield to cruel fate at length,
The hostile waters close around their head,
They sink for ever, number'd with the dead!

Those who remain their fearful doom await,
Nor longer mourn their lost companions' fate,

I Campbell's Specimens, vol. vi. p. 98.

At length asunder torn, her frame divides,
And crashing spreads in ruin o'er the tides,

As o'er the surge the stooping main-mast hung,
Still on the rigging thirty seamen clung:
Some, struggling, on a broken crag were ust,
And there by oozy tangles grappled fast;
Awhile they bore th'o'erwhelming billows' rage,
Unequal combat with their fate to wage;
Till all benumb'd and feeble they forego
Their slippery hold, and sink to shades below.
Some, from the main-yard-arm impetuous thrown
On marble ridges, die without a groan.
Three with Palemon on their skill depend,
And from the wreck on oars and rafts descend.
Now on the mountain-wave on high they ride,
Then downward plunge beneath th' involving tide;
Till one, who seems in agony to strive,
The whirling breakers heave on shore alive;
The rest a speedier end of anguish knew,
And prest the stony beach, a lifeless crew!

Next, 0 unhappy chief! th' etemal doom
Of Heaven decreed thee to the briny tomb!
What scenes of misery torment thy view!
What painful struggles of thy dying crew!
Thy perish'd hopes all buried in the flood,
D'erspread with corses! red with human blood!

The heart that bleeds with sorrows all its own,
Forgets the pangs of friendship to bemoan.-
Albert and Rodmond and Palemon here,
With young Arion, on the mast appear;
Even they, amid th' unspeakable distress,
In every look distracting thoughts confess;
In every vein the refluent blood congeals,
And every bosom fatal terror feels.
Inclosed with all the demons of the main,
They view'd th' adjacent shore, but view'd in vain.
Such torments in the drear abodes of hell,
Where sad despair laments with rueful yell,
Such torments agonize the damned breast,
While fancy views the mansions of the blest.
For Heaven's sweet help their suppliant cries implore,
But Heaven, relentless, deigns to help no more!

And now, lash'd on by destiny severe,
With horror fraught, the dreadful scene drew near!
The ship hangs hovering on the verge of death,
Hell yawns, rocks rise, and breakers roar beneath
In vain, alas! the sacred shades of yore
Would arm the mind with philosophic lore;
In vain they'd teach us, at the latest breath,
To smile serene amid the pangs of death.
E'en Zeno's self, and Epictetus old,
This fell abyss had shudder'd to behold.
Had Socrates, for god-like virtue famed,
And wisest of the sons of men proclaimu,
Beheld this scene of frenzy and distress,
His soul had trembled to its last recess!
O yet confirm my heart, ye powers above,
This last tremendous shock of fate to prove.
The tottering frame of reason yet sustain!
Nor let this total ruin whirl my brain!

In vain the cords and axes were prepared, For now th' audacious seas insult the yard; High o'er the ship they throw a horrid shade And o'er her burst, in terrible cascade. Uplifted on the surge, to heaven she flies, Her shatter'd top half buried in the skies, Then headlong plunging, thunders on the ground, Earth groans! air trembles! and the deeps resound! Her giant bulk the dread concussion feels, And quivering with the wound, in torment reels; So reels, convulsed with agonizing throes, The bleeding bull beneath the murd'rer's blows.-Again she plunges! bark! a second shock Tears her strong bottom on the marble rock! Down on the vale of death, with dismal cries, The fated victims shuddering roll their eyes In wild despair; while yet another stroke, With deep convulsion, rends the solid oak; Till like the mine, in whose infernal cell The lurking demons of destruction dwell,

[graphic]

So pierced with anguish hoary Priam gazed,
When Troy's imperial domes in ruin blazed;
While he, severest sorrow doom'd to feel,
Expired beneath the victor's murdering steel.

Thus with his helpless partners till the last,
Sad refuge! Albert hugs the floating mast;
His soul could yet sustain the mortal blow,
But droops, alas! beneath superior woe:
For now soft nature's sympathetic chain
Tugs at his yearning heart with powerful strain,
His faithful wife for ever doom'd to mourn
For him, alas! who never shall return;
To black adversity's approach exposed,
With want and hardships unforeseen enclosed :
His lovely daughter left without a friend,
Her innocence to succor and defend;
By youth and indigence set forth a prey
To lawless guilt, that flatters to betray
While these reflections rack his feeling mind,
Rodmond, who hung beside, his grasp resign'd;
And, as the tumbling waters o'er him rollid,
His out-stretch'd arms the master's legs enfold.
Sad Albert feels the dissolution near,
And strives in vain his fetter'd limbs to clear;
For death bids every clinching joint adhere,
All-faint, to heaven he throws his dying eyes,
And, "O protect my wife and child! he cries:
The gushing streams roll back th' unfinish'd sound!
He gasps! he dies! and tumbles to the ground!

Hie, as the tumbling beside, hieeling mind
Sad Allen chd arms the der him rolle nd;
And strives pels the dissolutaster's legs ento
For death in vain his forution near.

At length asunder torn, her frame divides,
And crashing spreads in ruin o'er the tides,

As o'er the surge the stooping main-mast hung,
Still on the rigging thirty seamen clung:
Some, struggling, on a broken crag werę vast,
And there by oozy tangles grappled fast;
Awhile they bore th' o'erwhelming Sillows' rage,
Unequal combat with their fate to wage;
Till all benumb'd and feeble they forego
Their slippery hold, and sink to shades below.
Some, from the main-yard-arm impetuous thrown
On marble ridges, die without a groan.
Three with Palemon on their skill depend,
And from the wreck on oars and rafts descend.
Now on the mountain-wave on high they ride,
Then downward plunge beneath th' involving tide;
Till one, who seems in agony to strive,
The whirling breakers heave on shore alive;
The rest a speedier end of anguish knew,
And prest the stony beach, a lifeless crew!

Next, О unhappy chief! th' eternal doom Of Heaven decreed thee to the briny tomb! What scenes of misery torment thy view! What painful struggles of thy dying crew! Thy perish'd hopes all buried in the flood, O'erspread with corses! red with human blood! So pierced with anguish hoary Priam gazed, When Troy's imperial domes in ruin blazed; . While he, severest sorrow doomd to feel, Expired beneath the victor's murdering steel. Thus with his helpless partners till the last, Sad refuge! Albert hugs the floating mast; His soul could yet sustain the mortal blow, But droops, alas! beneath superior woe: For now soft nature's sympathetic chain Tugs at his yearning heart with powerful strain, His faithful wife for ever doom'd to mourn For him, alas! who never shall return; To black adversity's approach exposed, With want and hardships unforeseen enclosed : His lovely daughter left without a friend, Her innocence to succor and defend; By youth and indigence set forth a prey To lawless guilt, that flatters to betray While these reflections rack his feeling mind, Rodmond, who hung beside, his grasp resign'd; And, as the tumbling waters o'er him roll’d, His out-stretch'd arms the master's legs enfold.Sad Albert feels the dissolution near, And strives in vain his fetter'd limbs to clear; For death bids every clinching joint adhere. All-faint, to heaven he throws his dying eyes, And, “O protect my wife and child !” he cries: The gushing streams roll back th' unfinish'd sound! He gasps! he dies! and tumbles to the ground !

reciprocal duties of parents and children, of husbands and wires
of neighbors and fellow-servants. He knows the aggravated gui
of every offence against these ties of society, however we may be
disposed to treat them as trifles: and every piece of stubbornnes
and pride, of ill-humour and passion, of anger and resentment, if
sulenness and perverseness, exposes us to Ris just indignation.

Reflections on Sunday.
SELF-EXAMINATION.
That I may be better in future, let me examine a little what
temper I have been in the last twenty-four hours. In general,
perhaps, I can recollect nothing much amiss in it: but let me
descend to particulars. Things are often very faulty, that appear
at first sight very trifling. Perhaps I have so fond a conceit of
mrself as to think that I can never be in the wrong. Has any
mneasiness happened in the family this last day? Perhaps I

CATHERINE TALBOT. 1720-1770. CATHERINE Talbot, the only daughter of Rev. Edward Talbot, Archdea. con of Berks, was born in the year 1720. She early exhibited strong marks of a feeling heart, a warm imagination, and a powerful understanding. To these natural talents were added all the advantages of a thorough education founded on Christian principles. In 1741 she was introduced to the cele brated Miss Elizabeth Carter,' with whom she maintained the most close and intimate friendship to the close of her life. At what age she began to write for the public eye, does not appear; but it is certain that her talents and at tainments early introduced her into a valuable literary acquaintance, of which Archbishop Secker, and Dr. Butler, the author of the “ Analogy," may be named. But great as were her talents, and brilliant as her accomplishments, she possessed qualities of infinitely more importance both to herself and so ciety. Her piety was deep and ardent: it was the spring of all her actions, as its rewards was the object of all her hopes. Her life, however, affords but little scope for narrative; passing on in a smooth, equable tenor, without dangers or adventures. But she was not of a strong constitution, and the disease 10 wlich slie had long been subject-a cancer-at length made rapid strides upon her delicate frame, and she expired on the 9th of January, 1770.

The chief publications of Miss Talbot are, « Reflections on the Seven Days of the Week,” which have passed through numerous editions, twentysix - Essays," five “Dialogues," three “ Prose Pastorals,” a “Fairy Tale," three Imitations of Ossian,” two “ Allegories,” No. 30 of the “ Rambler," and a few " Poems;" all of which may be read with great profit, as the production of one who possessed the most exquisite qualities both of the head and heart.

A SENSE OF GOD'S PRESENCE. Let me ask myself, as in the sight of God, what is the general turn of my temper, and disposition of my mind? My most trifling words and actions are observed by Him: and every thought is naked to His eye. Could I suppose the king, or any the greatest person I have any knowledge of, were within reach of observa ing my common daily behaviour, though unseen by me, should I not be very particularly careful to preserve it, in every respect, decent and becoming? Should I allow myself in any little froward humors? Should I not be ashamed to appear peevish and ill-natured ? Should I use so much as one harsh or unhandsome expression even to my equal, or my meanest inferior, even were ever so much provoked ? Much less should I behave irreverently to my parents or superiors. This awful Being, in whom I live and move, and from whom no obscurity can hide me, by whom the very hairs of my head are all numbered, He knows the obligations of every relation in life. He sees in their full light the

think the fault was wholly in others, and the right entirely on my side. But ought I not to remember, that in all disputes, there is generally some fault on both sides? Perhaps they begun imbut did not I carry it on ?-They gave the provocation :-ambut did not luke it!--Am not I too apt to imagine that it would be mean Entirely to let a quarrel drop, when I have a fair opportunity to Teasm, and argue, and reproach, to vindicate my injured merit, ani assert my right? Yet, is this agreeable to the precepts and esample of Him," who, when he was reviled, reviled not again?" Is it agreeable to His commands, who has charged me, if my brother trespass against me, to forgive him, not seven times only, but seventy times seven? Is it agreeable to that Christian doctrine which exhorts us, not to think of ourselves highly, but soberly as we ought to think: and that, in lowliness of mind, every one should think others better than himself? And alas, how often d I think this disrespect, though a slight one, provoking to me This situation, though a happy one, not good enough for me How often have I had in my mouth that wise maxim, that a worm fit is trod upon, will turn again! Wretch that I am, shall plead the example of a vile worm of the earth for disobeying 11 esumands of my Saviour, with whom I hope hereafter to sit heavenly places!"

ALL CAN DO GOOD.
Every one of us may in something or other assist or instr
some of his fellow-creatures: for the best of human race is y

Refections on Monday.

1 This lady died in 1806, consequently beyond the period (1800) to which I have been obliged to restrict myself in the preparation of this work, in order to do any justice to our earlier writers.

2. Read-edition of her works, by Rev. M. Pennington ;-a notice of her life in Drake & Essays
10! s, and some notices in Sır Egerlon Brydges's “Censura Literarla."

I desyer to observe that this excellent Mustration of these unchristian passkuns, to
Etter at first person, conveya no sort of idea of the mi and humble disposition

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