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sisting of 312 lines, was written, revised, and completed, in less than eight hours; and the beauties of that poem may challenge works more laboured.

The Lyrical Tales was the last of Mrs. Robinson's poetical publications. The last work on which she was employed, was the translation of The Picture of Palermo, from Dr. Hagar.

For some months previous to her death, Mrs. Robinson had much to endure. Her health was declining; pecuniary embarrassments pressed closely upon her; and her heart was swoln with injuries. Amidst all this, her conduct was marked chiefly with fortitude and cheerfulness. It was only the few who saw her in the closest retirement that perceived the symptoms of a broken spirit. Yet her. debts (which was partly the cause) were comparatively small, 1200l. we have been told, would have paid them; and Mrs. Robinson had recently adopted plans of economy, which would have enabled her in a year or two, to have satisfied every pecuniary claim upon her. Her fate, in this respect, must be deemed cruel; and the more so, as she had often released others from the danger of a prison, with which she was threatened in her very last moments. Mrs. Robinson, was not, however, de stitute of friends, had she chosen to have applied to them. The Duchess of Devonshire, Lord Moira, and the Marquis and Marchioness of Hertford, with many other distinguished characters, had been liberal patrons, and continued to be warmly attached to her.

In the course of this last summer, Mrs. Robinson had retired almost from the world, to a beautiful cottage belonging to her daughter on Englefield Green, near Windsor Forest. Here the encroachinents of disease, mental and bodily, gradually overpowered every effort of human skill; and after lingering near three months, notwithstanding

the unexampled attention of Drs. Pope and Chandler, she expired on the 26th day of December, 1800. On the body being opened, by the express wish of the physicians who attended her, the immediate cause of her death was found to be an accumulation of water on the chest, together with six large stones contained in the gall bladder, a circumstance which, had she been able to take the exercise of walking, would long since have accelerated that event which is now the subject of regret to her friends.

In the last hours of her existence, Mrs. Robinson was not deserted by that fortitude and strength of mind which had ever distinguished her. She gave directions for her funeral; and expressed many wishes relative to her death with a spirit perfectly resigned.

By her own desire, she was buried on the north side of Old Windsor Church Yard. Her funeral was plain. The last melancholy office of attending her remains was performed by two literary and valued friends. A monument, on a simple and elegant model is preparing by her daughter's orders, and is intended to be erected over the place of her inter

ment.

MISERABLE STATE OF THE MODERN GREEKS,

IF

[From Travels into Greece, by Dr. Stephanopoli.]

F a Greek appears in a rich habit, the lowest Turk will take out his knife and cut it in pieces. Throughout Romelia, a Greek male child is no sooner born, than the first Turk who hears of it sends his handkerchief to the father, and from that moment the child is his slave: if the father refuses the handkerchief, the Turk soon finds out a method of ruining both father and child.

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A Turk, however low, considers every Greek whom he meets as being at his command, and orders him to do whatever he pleases. A Greek islander was lately measuring out some corn from his boat; a Turk on the pier ordered him to fetch fire to light his pipe: the Greek stopped to fill his sack, which wanted very little of being full; and the Turk, because he did not instantly obey him, shot him dead.

A late sultan having made a law that no christian should have any red in their clothing, walked the streets of Constantinople in disguise, in order to hunt out offenders; and his followers struck off the heads of all persons who were found in the least to transgress his orders. A shoemaker's lad sat on his stall, working and singing, with a red cap on his head; the sultan no sooner saw it, than head and cap where whirled off together. Ali Bey kidnapped eleven Greeks from Tripolezza, and had them impaled, to avenge himself of an insult he had received from the pacha of that district.

Stravachi, a Greek, while a sort of intendant to the Beys of Wallachia and Transylvania, accumulated a large fortune. Repeated vexations, which his wealth had brought upon him, induced him to present himself before the grand seignior, whom he thus addressed:"Please your highness, I am worth twelve millions of piastres; I have no child; thou shalt be my heir: guarantee my fortune to me for my life.' The sultan, pleased with the offer, laid his hand on Stravachi's shoulder, and said, "Enjoy thy fortune in safety." For some years he was unmolested: but, at last, they thought that he lived too long; they accused him to the sultan of intending to escape, with his treasure, to Russia: a decree of death was obtained against him, and he was instantly hung.

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At Naples, in Romania, they have this law, which is most religiously observed: that whoeveg

sees a Greek ill-treated, struck, and overpowered, and gives him succour, is unworthy the name of a mussulman, and is cursed of the prophet. So far, indeed, are they from lending assistance, that when they see a mangled victim fall and expire, they cry out, bravo! bravo!

ANOTHER INSTANCE,

From Le Chevalier's Voyage to the Propontis.

ON my visit to the fort of Rodosto, I was witness to a scene, which may give some idea of the despotism of a conquering over a conquered people. -Two small boats were sailing towards the shore, at a nearly equal distance from it, and seeming to contend which should reach it first. One was manned by Turks, and the other by Greeks. The bowsprit of the Turkish vessel having got foul of the rigging of the Grecian boat, a Greek sailor ran forward to disengage it; when the master of the Turkish boat got up in a rage, and, laying hold of an oar, knocked down the Greek with it, who suffered himself to be killed without offering the least resistance. B. Sidmouth.

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SKETCH

OF THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF

ROBERT BURNS.

(Concluded from page 217.)

N 1788, having settled with his publisher at

He now, therefore, took a farm, married, and began to push forward through life. But his social propensities drew him aside from a serious application to the pursuits of agriculture-and being soon after appointed an exciseman, an office he

had long wished for-he left his farm chiefly to the care of servants; a circumstance which proved by no means favourable to his prosperity. "He might, indeed, (says his biographer) still be seen in the spring directing his plough, in which he excelled, or with a white sheet, containing his seed-corn, slung across his shoulders, striding with measured steps along his turne i up furrows, and scattering the grain in the earth. But his farm no longer occupied the principal part of his care, or his thoughts. It was not at Ellisland (the name of his farm), that he was now in general to be found. Mounted on horseback, this high-minded poet was pursuing the defaulters of the revenue among the hills and vales of Nithsdale, his roving eye wandering over the charms of nature and muttering his wayward fancies as he moved along."

About the end of the year 1791 Burns relinquished his farm, and removed to Dumfries, where he ended his days. Here he became much attached to company, and frequently gave himself up to intoxication. His situation in the excise brought him in about seventy pounds per annum, and he would soon have received further promotion, had he not spoken too freely in favour of the French revolution. This disappointment greatly chagrined his mind, which, together with his free mode of living, hastened his dissolution. He, however, was not a republican; and, in the year 1795, appearing in the Dumfries volunteers, he brought forth the following spirited verses, which form a pleasing specimen of his poetry:

Scene. A field of battle-time of day, eveningthe wounded and dying of the victorious army are supposed to join in the following song.

Farewell thou fair day, thou green earth, and ye skies, Now gay with the bright setting sun;

Farewell loves and friendships, ye dear tender ties, Our race of existence is run!

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