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“ Is there no road but by those gibbets ?'”
“ No road," the woman replied. " But tho' with the wind each murderer swings
They both of them. are harmless things, “ And so are the ravens beside."
* What are these ravens there those creatures
« That are so black and blue ! “ But are they ravens? I enquire, « For I have heard hy winter's fire,
“ That phantoms the dead pursue." The woman replied, “ They are night-ravens
“ That pick the dead-men's eyes; " And they cry qua, with their hollow jaw; - Methinks I one this moment saw !
“ To the banquet at hand he flies. « Now fare thee well !” The traveller, filent,
Whilf terror consumed his soul,
At the brim of oblivion's howl.
The black men waved in the air ;
For he determin'd not to fear.'
To fear where no danger is found !
He trembled, and could not look round.
And the murderers' irons they screak!
Tho' neither have courage to speak.
Now both on the verge of the common arrive,
Were a gate the free passage denied ;
The mouth of the spirit did glide.
Gallop'd fast from the being he fear'd;
And more luminous now it appear'd !
" I can neither look round or go on ;
“ Speak ! speak! or my sense will be gone!"
“ Is it thee? I'll beat thy bones bare.
The Tempest is a beautiful little piece, not wholly unlike Beattie's Hermit in point of sentiment :
THE TEMPEST. “ The tempest has darken'd the face of the skies,
The winds whistle wildly across the waste plain, The fiends of the whirlwind terrific arise,
And mingle the clouds with the white-foaming main. All dark is the night and all glooniy the shore,
Save when the red lightnings the ether divide,
And echoes in concert the billowy tide.
Hope the foother soft whispers the tempeits shall cease;
For the bright-blushing morning all rosy with light
Shall convey on her wings the Creator of day,
And nature enlivened again shall be gay.
And again the bright Aowret shall blush in the dale;
And the sun-beam shall Ilcep on the hill and the dale.
If her once faded beauties so foon glow again,
By the tempests of passion, of forrow, and pain
When the troublesome fever of life shall be o'er; In the night of the grave he shall Number in peace,
And passion and sorrow shall vex him no more, And shall not this night and its long dismal gloom,
Like the night of the tempest again pass away ; Yes! the dust of the earth in bright beauty shall bloom, And rise to the morning of heavenly day!
D. 1796. The Old Man's Comforts are prettily imagined and affectingly toid. THE OLD MAN'S COMFORTS, AND HOW HE
The few locks that are left you are grey;
Now tell me the reason I pray.
I remember'd that youth would fly fast,
That I never might need them at lait.
And pleasures with youth pass away;
In the days of my youth, Father William replied,
I remember'd that youth could not last;
That I never might grieve for the past.
And life must be haftening away;
Now tell me the reason I pray ?
Let the cause thy attention engage;
S. Many other pleasing pieces might have been selected, but sufficient has been extracted to convince the judgment, and taste of the editor, and to thew the reader that the perufal of the whole collection will adminifter to his inltruction and entertainment. The second volume, we understand, is in the press.
Poems and Plays by Mrs. West, Author of a Tale of
the Times, a Gollip's Story, &c. 2 vols. Longman
and Rees. THIS ingenious lady has afforded us entertainment
and instruction in the perufal of her volumes; though we do not affign her the first rank among the female writers of the day. There is, however, much to commend ; and our readers will, upon the whole, be pleased with her effusions.
The comedy is entitled How will it End? nor can we perceive why it fhould have been rejected. The same may be remarked of the Tragedy--Adela ; but the authoress now appeals to an impartial public. Her Elegies and Sonnets contain many just thoughts, well expressed. We, are, however, most gratified with the
Ode on Poetry, in four parts Classics, Uncultivated, Sacred, and British. Under each of which heads a number of pleasing articles are detailed and illustrated. The British departinent closes with these two animated ftanzas. The Genius of Poetry thus exclaims :
" Gu tell my ardent youths who pant