. Evening's Contemplation in a French Prison," (Valenciennes,) in imitation of Gray's "Elegy:" and it is but truth to state that its composition would have been no discredit to some of our more able poets. Palmer had contracted a disease during his long confinement, which never forsook him. At the invasion of France by the Allies, the English prisoners were removed from depôt to depôt, lest they should fall into the hands of the conquering Powers, and be released. The repeated harassing marches Palmer underwent on these occasions, added to his already weak state of body, considerably hastened his decease. His severe illness prevented his removal to England for some time after the conclusion of the Peace. He died shortly after arriving in his native country, in the Naval Hospital at Deal, June 9th, 1814, after an absence of seven years. For the gratification of our readers, we subjoin a few verses from the " Elegy" in ques tion; the reader must bear in mind, that the scene is a French prison, and that the Poet is a British Sailor. "Perhaps in 'durance vile' here may be plac'd Hands which the sword of DUNCAN might have grac'd, But science on their birth refus'd to smile, Full many a song the tuneful bird of night Some generous HOWARD, who, with godlike zeal, Some gallant NELSON here unknown may rest * JOSEPH ATKINSON was a native of Ireland, and was Treasurer of the Ordnance, under the administration of the Earl of Moira. He was the intimate of Moore, Curran, and the rest of the galaxy of Irish genius; and was, himself, a poet of more than ordinary ability, as the following jeu d'esprit, addressed to his friend Moore, on the birth of his third daughter, will evince: "I'm sorry, dear Moore, there's a damp to your joy, When I say, that your wife had a right to a boy, But since Fate, the boon that you wish'd for, refuses, Your wife should be circled at home by the Graces!" He died in Dublin, at the age of seventy-five, in October, 1818, and was sincerely regretted by all who knew him; being admired by the young for his conviviality, and respected by the aged for his benevolence and numerous good qualities. The following beautiful lines, from the pen of his intimate, Moore, are intended to be engraved on his sepulchre: "If ever lot was prosperously cast, If ever life was like the lengthen'd flow The sunny temper, bright where all is strife, Pure Charity, that comes not in a shower, The happy grateful spirit that improves, And brightens ev'ry gift by Fortune given All these were his-Oh! thou, who read'st this stone, HINDOO POETRY. THE subjects of many slight popular poems among the Hindoos, are highly curious. Major Broughton, in his slight but pleasing volume on that subject, has preserved the two following, which we deem well worthy of being presented to our readers. "The daughter of a certain Raja, young and beautiful, fell suddenly into a deep melancholy. No art was left untried to effect a cure; plays and pantomimes were acted before her; the most ridiculous mimics and buffoons were sent for, and exhibited in her presence: but all in vain; the young Ranee could by no means be induced to smile. At length, a facetious Brahmun undertook to cure her; and, in the character of a jeweller, offered some fine pearls for sale. The following lines contain the Brahmun's speech, with its effect: the first hyperbole failed; but in the next attempt he was more successful. 'O say, within that coral cell What mighty magic power can dwell; But see, she smiles ;-my fears were vain “A young girl, just blooming into youth, laments, in the following lines, the loss of the liberty and ease she enjoyed, while regarded only as a child, in her father's house; and complains of the restraint imposed upon her in that of her husband, to which she has now been removed. When she goes to draw water at the |