CHARLES DIBDIN. CHARLES DIBDIN was born at Southampton | in 1745. His mother was fifty years old at the time of his birth, and he was her eighteenth child. He was educated at Winchester, and at the age of sixteen wrote "The Shepherd's Artifice," an opera, which was brought out at Covent Garden. In 1778, having been on the boards as an actor in some of his own pieces, he became musical manager at that theatre, and a few years later he built the Surrey. In 1788 he published his "Musical Tour," and in 1789 he originated an entertainment which he called "The Whim of the Moment"-a series of concerts in which he alone was author, composer, and performer. This was very successful; his "Poor Jack" especially caught the ear of the public; yet when he retired from the stage, in 1805, owing to various misfortunes, he was quite poor, and the government gave him a pension of £200. He died in 1814. Dibdin is especially noted for his sea-songs, of which he is said to have written twelve hundred. They are standard favorites with the British tars, and have been sometimes quoted with good effect in time of mutiny. "Poor Tom Bowling" was written as a dirge for his brother, who was captain of an East Indiaman. An illustrated edition of the songs, with a memoir, was published in 1850. Dibdin also wrote about fifty dramas. D'ye mind me, a sailor should be every inch From the moment the anchor 's a-trip. As for me, in all weathers, all times, sides, and ends, Naught's a trouble from duty that springs, For my heart is my Poll's, and my rhino's my friend's, And as for my life, 'tis the king's: Even when my time comes, ne'er believe me so soft As for grief to be taken aback, For the same little cherub that sits up aloft THE TAR FOR ALL WEATHERS. I SAILED from the Downs in the Nancy, As ever sailed on the salt seas. Our girls and our dear native shore! And where the gale drives we must go. When we entered the Gut of Gibraltar, She yaw'd just as thof she was drunk. Helm a-weather the hoarse boatswain cries: Brace the foresail athwart; see she quivers, As through the rough tempest she flies. But sailors, &c. The storm came on thicker and faster, Befell three poor sailors and I. Ben Buntline, Sam Shroud, and Dick Handsail, Poor Ben, Sam, and Dick cried peccavi; Well, what would you have? We were stranded, Of three hundred that sailed, never landed After thus we at sea had miscarried, We know not for what we were born, In either eye a lingering tear, His love and duty well to prove, At leisure to behold his worth, Tokens, and rings, and broken gold, He plunged the sapling firm in earth, And o'er and o'er his treasure told; The letters spelt, the kindness traced, And all affection's precious store, Each with the favorite motto graced"Love me; ah, love me, evermore!" While on this anxious task employed, The boatswain's whistle cleaves the air. That bids him love for evermore. The magic branch thus unreclaimed, THE STANDING TOAST. SIR WILLIAM JONES. WILLIAM JONES was born in London, Sep-| tember 28, 1746. At Harrow he surpassed all his schoolmates in classical scholarship, and at Oxford he became proficient in Oriental languages. But without taking a degree he left the university in 1765, and became a private tutor. In 1770 he published a Life of Nadir Shah," which, at the request of the King of Denmark, he had translated from Persian into French. This was followed by a Persian grammar and "Commentaries on Asiatic Poetry." In 1780 he published a translation of seven Arabic poems, under the collective title of Moallákat, so called from their being suspended in the temple at Mecca. Meanwhile he studied law, mingled unsuccessfully in politics, wrote a law treatise, and published a few odes. In 1783 he was appointed a judge in the Supreme Court at Bengal. He married Miss Shipley, daughter of the Bishop of St. Asaph, was knighted, and sailed for India. He gave himself anew to the study of Eastern languages, founded the Asiatic Society, and wrote much on legal, philosophical, and historical themes. He published a story in verse, entitled "The Enchanted Fruit, or the Hindu Wife," and translated an ancient Indian drama called "Sacontala, or the Fatal Ring.' He was at work on a digest of the Hindu and Mohammedan laws, when he suddenly died, April 27, 1794. Sir William Jones was the first Oriental scholar of his time, was familiar with sixteen languages, and was no inconsiderable poet; but most of his poems require such long prose prefaces to make them intelligible, that they afford little pleasure to the general reader. AN ODE IN IMITATION OF ALCÆUS. Ον λιθοι, ουδε ξυλα, ουδε Ενταυθα τείχη και πόλεις. Alc. quoted by Aristides. WHAT Constitutes a state? Not high-raised battlement or labored mound, Not cities proud with spires and turrets crowned; Where low-brow'd baseness wafts perfume to pride. No!-Men, high-minded men, With powers as far above dull brutes endued In forest, brake, or den, As beasts excel cold rocks and brambles rude; Men, who their duties know, But know their rights, and knowing, dare maintain, · Prevent the long-aimed blow, And crush the tyrant while they rend the chain: These constitute a state; And sovereign law, that state's collected will, O'er thrones and globes elate Hides his faint rays, and at her bidding shrinks. Such was this heaven-loved isle, Than Lesbos fairer and the Cretan shore ! Shall Britons languish, and be men no more? Those sweet rewards, which decorate the brave, 'Tis folly to decline, And steal inglorious to the silent grave. A CHINESE ODE, PARAPHRASED. BEHOLD, where yon blue rivulet glides Along the laughing dale; Light reeds bedeck its verdant sides, So shines our prince! In bright array As pliant hands, in shapes refined, As gems are taught by patient art What soft, yet awful dignity! What meek, yet manly grace! What sweetness dances in his eye, And blossoms in his face! So shines our prince! A sky-born crowd THE VERBAL TRANSLATION. BEHOLD yon reach of the river Ki; Its green reeds how luxuriant! how luxuriant! Thus is our prince adorned with virtues; As a carver, as a filer of ivory, As a cutter, as a polisher of gems, Oh how elate and sagacious! Oh how dauntless and composed! How worthy of fame! How worthy of reverence! We have a prince adorned with virtues, HYMN TO CAMDEO. THE Hindoo god to whom the following poem is addressed appears evidently the same with the Grecian Eros and the Roman Cupido; but the Indian description of his person and arms, his family, attendants, and attributes, has new and peculiar beauties. WHAT potent god from Agra's orient bowers Celestial sounds I hear! "Know'st thou not me?" Ah, spare a mortal ear! "Behold "-My swimming eyes entranced I raise, God of each lovely sight, each lovely sound, Wreathy smiles and roseate pleasures Are thy richest, sweetest treasures. All animals to thee their tribute bring, And hail thee universal king. Thy consort mild, Affection ever true, Thy dreaded implements they bear, God of the flowery shafts and flowery bow, Weaves thy green robe and flaunting bowers, He bends the luscious cane, and twists the string. With bees, how sweet! but ah, how keen their sting! He with five flowerets tips thy ruthless darts, Which through five senses pierce enraptured hearts: Strong Chumpa, rich in odorous gold, Hot Kiticum our sense beguiling, And last, to kindle fierce the scorching flame, Love-shaft, which gods bright Bela name. Can men resist thy power, when Krishen yields, Heaven shook, and, smit with stony wonder, Told his deep dread in bursts of thunder, Whilst on thy beauteous limbs an azure fire Blazed forth, which never must expire. O thou for ages born, yet ever young, |