And startling from their haunts the timid deer,
To trace the walks obscur'd by matted fern,
Which Waller's soothing lyre were wont to hear,
But where now clamours the discordant hern!
The spoiling hand of time may overturn
These lofty battlements, and quite deface
The fading canvass whence we love to learn
Sydney's keen look, and Sacharissa's grace;
But fame and beauty still defy decay,

Sav'd by th' historic page, the poet's tender lay!
Charlotte Smith.

SONNET.

WHOSE was that gentle voice, that whispering sweet,

Promis'd, methought, long days of bliss sincere? Soothing it stole on my deluded ear,

Most like soft music that might sometimes cheat
Thoughts dark and drooping. "Twas the voice of
Hope.

Of love and social scenes it seem'd to speak,
Of truth, of friendship, of affection meek;
That hand in hand along life's downward slope
Might walk with peace, and cheer the tranquil

hours:

Ah me! the prospect sadden'd as she sung;
Loud on my startled ear the death-bell rung:
Chill darkness wrapp'd the pleasurable bowers
She built whilst pointing to yon breathless clay,
She cried,No peace be thine: away, away!'

Bowles,

SONNET.

O TIME, thou know'st a lenient hand to lay
Softest on sorrow's wounds, and slowly thence
(Lulling to sad repose the weary sense)
The faint pang stealest unperceiv'd away;
On thee I rest my only hope at last,

And think, when thou hast dried the bitter tear
That flows in vain o'er all my soul held dear,
I may look back on ev'ry sorrow past,
And meet life's peaceful evening with a smile-
As some lone bird at day's departing hour
Sings in the sunbeam of the transient shower,
Forgetful though its wings are wet the while:
Yet ah! how much must that poor heart endure,
Which hopes from thee, and thee alone a cure!
Bowles.

END OF BOOK IX.

ELEGANT EXTRACTS,

FROM THE

MOST EMINENT POETS.

BOOK X.

SATIRICAL AND HUMOROUS.

A FAIRY TALE.

IN Britain's isle, and Arthur's days,
When midnight fairies danc'd the maze,
Liv'd Edwin of the Green;
Edwin, I wis, a gentle youth,
Endow'd with courage, sense, and truth,
Though badly shap'd he been.

His mountain back mote well be said
To measure height against his head,
And lift itself above;

Yet spite of all that Nature did
To make his uncouth form forbid,
This creature dar'd to love.