Woe, woe! for his standard, triumphantly lifted,
Shall never, no, never, be lifted again!

The tears be of wormwood, by mother and daughter
Poured forth, but in frenzy my sorrows are poured,—
We are motherless, childless; vowed, vowed to the
slaughter,

The bosom of beauty sheathes victory's sword.
O God! that the bosoms which deepest adore thee,
Should plead to a spoiler for mercy in vain ;

Wales! ages on ages in joy may roll o'er thee,
But thou shalt smile never, uo, never again!

W.

WIDOWED LOVE.

BY THOMAS GENT, ESQ.

TELL me, chaste spirit! in yon orb of light,
Which seems to wearied souls an ark of rest,

So calm-so peaceful- so divinely bright—

Solace of broken hearts-the mansion of the blest!

Tell me, oh! tell me-shall I meet again

The long-lost object of my only love!

-This hope but mine, death were release from pain;

Angel of mercy! haste,-and waft my soul above!

LUCALPINE.

BY THE RIGHT HON. LORD PORCHESTER.

When musing on companions gone,

We doubly feel ourselves alone.

Scott.

KIND friends and companions of many a long day!— Should your eye o'er this tablet of verse chance to stray,

A son of Lucalpine would bid you recal

That evening-so lovely and dear to us allWhen Rhone's distant murmurs fell faint on the ear, And Cynthia! thy crescent rose cloudless and clear! "Twas bright, my kind friends! as your fancy's bright glow,

And calm as each feeling your pure bosoms know, So bright and so calm was her crescent of light;— How bold-yet how lovely-the scenes of that night!

Those mountains, like giants, that frowned o'er the

glade,

That forest, so chequered with silver and shade,

Where we silently sat, on the brow of the hill, And our hearts were o'erfraught—though our voices were still!

Now, farewell to the scenes-to the friends that are

dear,

Whose eyes never streamed with the fast flowing tear,

Save tears of such pure and such passionless woe
As only the good or the guiltless can know !
But, oh! when the year, fast revolving, shall bring
That evening's return, with the first glow of spring,
If hapless-away from the souls who, that night,
Made beauty more graceful-enchantment more
bright,-

Where'er fate may find me-'mid sunshine or shade,

My soul shall revert to Lucalpine's green glade; To the friends who were with me, on Dunrois' wild

shore,

And each coming year shall but rivet them more !

EPITAPH ON WILLIAM HAYLEY.

BY MRS. OPIE.

"When the ear heard him, then it blessed him-because he delivered the poor that cried, and the fatherless, and him that had none to help him."

WHAT though, beloved friend! around thy head,
The muse's wreath its graceful foliage spread!
Though fame was, long, thy talents rich reward,
And fashion smiled upon Serena's bard !
Though thou wast formed in polished courts to shine,
And learning's stores and playful wit were thine!
Though Cowper's self thy tuneful strains approved,
And praised the poet while the man he loved!
-Cowper, who lives in thy recording page,
To interest, charm, and teach the future age!
Oh! not on these alone thine honours rest,
But, that thy name pale want and misery blest!
That, such thy glowing zeal for all mankind,
So vast thy charity—so unconfined,—

Thy hand had spread a scene of blessings round,
If ample wealth thy ardent hopes had crowned!
That, whatsoe'er thy bounty could impart,
Was given to teach the mind, and cheer the heart,

Neglected talent's drooping head to raise,
And lead young genius on by generous praise!
-Yet, friend beloved! this higher meed be thine,
Faith in thy Saviour cheered thy life's decline!
Nor, by that God on whom thy hopes relied,
Was the sweet recompense of faith denied ;
He gave thee strength to smile 'midst torturing pain,
And even the slightest murmuring moan restrain;
He cheered with pious hope thy dying bed;
He on thy soul the Christian's sunshine shed;
And crowned,-to prove his favour's blest increas
A life of kindness, with a death of peace!