readers, we shall now give Mr. Lamb's translation of it. ON THE DEATH OF THE SPARROW. Mourn all ye loves and graces; mourn, away. Her very eyes she priz'd not so, For he was fond, and knew my fair, O be my curses on you heard; O what a wretch, if thou canst see Unbar the door, the gates unfold! Come, gentle bride-the warning day We will not blame thy bashful fears, * Then come, sweet bride! and bless thy spouse, And sanction love by nuptial vows. This translation is certainly superior to the rest of the volumes, some parts of which bear all the marks of schoolexercises about them. The version of ACME AND SEPTIMIUS. This translation is sufficiently accurate, but there is very little poetical Acme and Septimius is tolerably good. ease or beauty about it. It has been imitated perhaps more frequently than any other of Catullus's poems. There are said to be thirty imitations of it in Greek, Latin, French, and Italian, to which Mr. Lamb refers in a note, in which he also mentions the English translations of it. The version of the famous Epithalamium on the Marriage of Manlius and Julia, is, we think, as favourable a specimen as any of Mr. Lamb's talents, and we shall therefore transcribe a few passages from it. O thou, Urania's Heaven-born son, Around thy brow the chaplet bind, Septimius said, and fondly prest, Of growing faint in length of years, Love, before who utter'd still Then Acme gently bent her head, Love, before who uttered still Since favouring omens thus approved, Than Syria's realm and Britain's shore; The bliss that faithful Acme knows. Then search the world, and search in vain, For fonder maid, or happier swain Ask men below, and gods above, Ask Venus kind, and potent Love, There is more poetry in the translation of the beautiful lines, entitled "the Rites at his Brother's Grave," than in any other of Mr. Lamb's attempts. THE RITES AT HIS BROTHER'S GRAVE. Brother, I come o'er many seas and lands, To the sad rite which pious love ordains, To pay thee the last gift that death demands, And oft, though vain, invoke thy mute remains; Since death has ravish'd half myself in thee, O, wretched brother-sadly torn from me! And now ere fate our souls shall re-unite, To give me back all it hath snatch'd If we venerate the authority of the sacred writings, no one will dispute the first place belongs to Charity, "which covers a multitude of sins." The second to Justice, the severe administrator, but the companion of truth. These, from their peculiar sacredness of character, though her offspring, stand, perhaps, higher even than fortitude herself, the parent of all the virtues. Hope now is present to our view, who charms wherever she appears, animating every power of the mind, and engaging the fertile imagination, to embrace with becoming ardour, objects of honourable ambition; all that constitute beauty, excellence, or grandeur; thus gaily conducting us through the arcadian fields, harbingers of innocence and peace, to prospects of immortality. She enjoys a second place, too, in that exhilarating climax, which meets the soul in all its wanderings. 66 Faith, Hope, and Charity-these three, the greatest of all is Charity." Temperance may fairly claim the next place in the pantheon of manly virtues. While she gives effect to every attribute of the mind, without which our reason would be as a dead letter, and virtue but a name. We now turn to Faith, besmeared with blood, spilt in ignorance, acknowledging that reason and her have often been at variance, but holding out fair promises of a happy issue, and peace and comfort to the aged. As to Prudence, she trains her homely mantle in the rear, and offers it as a covering, even to ordinary men. Paris, June 30, 1821. Jos. ORIGINAL E IT ORIGINAL POETRY. ON THE DEMISE OF BONAPARTE. seemeth like a dream-but it is true, The Giant of this earth's wide course is gone; France, thou who best his eagle-greatness knew, In bitterness of heart thou long shalt moan Thy base apostacy, to him thy Chief, Who, in the hour when War's fell genius frowned, Saw thee in listlessness,-yield no relief. O thou vile land, while legions pressed him round. At length thy foemen bore him from thy ground, And close immured him in Oppression's cell, Where, by restrictive horrors firmly bound, A victim to their power, Napoleon fell!! O lest this deed should wake e'en Virtue's rage, Blot it, O History, blot it from thy page! ENORT. TO MR. GRAY, On his ODES-written by DAVID GARRICK. REPINE not, Gray, that our weak dazzled eyes Thy daring heights and brightness shun; How few can track the eagle to the skies, Or like him, gaze upon the sun! The gentle reader loves the gentle muse, That little dares, and little means, No longer now from Learning's sacred store THE NARCISSUS. SOON as thy yellow bell has blown, The sun discerns thee with his ray, The air and tempest in their change, A few brief days and thou wilt shrink Beyond their years,-and leave us ! As hopes to bless, or grieve, us. Yet, as thy root to Nature true T'increase thy Maker's beauty; MELANCHOLY. J. R. PRIOR. AURORA's fingers spread their tinsell❜d gleams, The dawn relieves me from tumultuous dreams. Ponder I must, if sinking into earth: LINES BY MRS. SHERIDAN, formerly MISS LINLEY. Though nurs'd by these, in vain thy muse ap- SLEEP, lovely Babe! sleep on, from danger pears, To breathe her ardours in our souls; In vain to sightless eyes and deaden'd ears The lightning gleams and thunder rolls! Yet droop not, Gray, nor quit thy Heav'n-born art, Again thy wond'rous powers reveal, Wake slumb'ring Virtue in the Briton's heart, And rouse us to reflect, and feel! free, To know the transports which those smiles impart ; For couldst thou know them, thou must also share The anxious feelings of thy Mother's care. With ancient deeds our long chill'd bosoms Soon shall her watching eyes, that dread to fire, Those deeds which mark'd Eliza's reign! Make Britons Greeks again-then strike the lyre, And Pindar shall not sing in vain. Once on a time a magpie led Ber little family from home, What tender hand that rears the humblest flow'r, And shields its sweetness from the threat'ning To teach them how to earn their bread, show'r, But loves the infant blossom it protects, The fond attentions of maternal love, But when from scenes which purest souls admire, Beauty, and taste, and innocence retire, The parent rose, that bends with blushing pride, O'er the soft bud that clusters to its side, More lovely seems, than where the stalk has grown, A single sweet attractive, but alone; For pleasing 'tis to view the ripened flow'r Expose its beauties to the sun-beam's power, As if content its silken leaves should feed You clasp your smiling infant to your breast, THE MAGPIE AND HER BROOD. A FABLE, From the Tales of Bonaventure des Seriers, Valet de Chambre to the Queen of Na varre. How anxious is the pensive Parent's thought! How blest the fav'rite fondling's early lot! Joy strings her hours on Pleasure's golden twine, And Fancy forms it to an endless line. But ah! the charm must cease, or soon or late, When chicks and misses rise to woman's state. The little tyrant grows in turn a slave, When she in quest of a new mate should roam. She pointed to each worm and fly, Or where the beetle buzz'd she call'd. They wanted to be back at nest, But madge knew better things. She flew away-God rest her sprite! I made a shift to live So must you, too; come, hop away; Lord bless us cried the peevish chits, The leaden ball will pierce our guts: To see your little Pies lie dead. My dears, said she, and buss'd their callow bills, The wise, by foresight, intercept their ills; He lifts his piece, he winks his eye; Why if he does, ye brats, Still, good mamma, our case is hard; Go, cater where you list. H.W. MEMOIRS MEMOIRS OF EMINENT PERSONS RECENTLY DECEASED. OUTLINE of the LIFE and CHARACTER of NAPOLEON BONAPARTE, Emperor of the French, King of Italy, &c. &c. A length that prodigy of huma nity has ceased to exist, which, during this generation, has absorbed the attention of mankind-at length that meteor has disappeared, which, while it enlightened the world, terrified many nations-at length those vital energies have ceased, whose powers were once extended over Europe, and drew forth the re-action of the civilized world at length that Conqueror is himself overcome, whose presence always ensured victory over the bravest hosts, and who never suffered defeat, though sometimes baffled by treachery, or overpowered by numbers-at length that ambition is laid asleep for ever, which sought to conquer prejudices; to anticipate centuries of time; to unite Philosophy with Ignorance, and reconcile rights with usurpation-at length Europe is relieved from the shame of continuing a sentence of Ostracism against a man whose character created an idolatry among millions, and enabled him to regulate kingdoms as his own household-at length, in fine, that great man is no more, whose genius and exalted character placed him as a champion between ancient establishments and the rights of man, and between the pretensions of legitimacy, which assert that people were made for the benefit of rulers, and the just claims of reason, which assert that rulers were made for the benefit of people. The tactics of established power, aided by the prejudices of the multitude, have thus for a season prevailed over the self-elected representative of those principles which have taken too deepa root in the understandings of men ever to be eradicated. The victory has not been gained over the principles, but over one who, with great admitted qualities, had nevertheless too many errors of humanity to be considered as the personification of the cause of truth. În being opposed by the worthless, his cause, however, became allied to the cause of virtue, and he had the glory of resisting the machinations of a common enemy, with such rare success, as to extort the admiration of all his con temporaries. In this respect his cause was allied, therefore, to that of virtue and philosophy-but in this respect only-for his character was too much adulterated, and his personal ambition was too much at variance with the rights of his fellow men, to allow of his being considered by them as the champion of that great cause, the ultimate triumph of which must, in a remote age, be secured by the pen and the press, and not by the desolating arts of war. This great man was born at Ajaccio, in Corsica, on the 15th of Aug. 1769, a period just long enough in advance of the French revolution, to cause both to arrive at maturity in the same year. He was therefore personally identified with that revolution-was brought up amid the conflict of opinions which produced it; and found himself qualified to seek his fortunes in its vicissitudes, by arriving at manhood in the very year in which the Bastille was taken. He was the second son of eight children, named Joseph, Napoleon, Lucien, Lewis, Jerome, Élizabeth, Paulina, and Caroline. Charles Bonaparte, the father, was assessor to the tribunal of Ajaccio. The patronage afforded to him by the Count de Marbœuf, who governed the island of Corsica after its conquest by the French, led to the protection of the family of Bonaparte, on the death of the father. It was through his means that young Napoleon was sent to the military school of Brienne, and afterwards to that of Paris, in quality of a king's scholar. He there exhibited very early a desire to acquire a superior knowledge of mathematics, and a taste for military exercises; but naturally of a retired disposition, he seldom mixed with his comrades. He was invariably fond of imitating the manners and language of the ancients, particularly of the Spartans, whose phrases and pithy manners he adopted. His propensity to mathematical studies was injurious to his progress in the more ornamental branches of literature; so that he is said never to have acquired a perfect knowledge of the grammar even of his own language, though his public compositions and bulletins are so much distinguished by their eloquence. In the year 1785, he underwent an examination |