■ II 

 
 . Y/aM w /yo«i $,</,:,y t y/:<*;fy -wSr /L , 
 
 w - fry 
 
 '/>/.,/(/ ,,,;;/.. ///,;■
 
 AFFECTION, 
 
 OTHER POEMS. 
 
 By HENRY SMITHERS, 
 
 OF THE ADELPHI. 
 
 Though my distracted senses should forfake me, 
 I'd find some intervals when my poor heart 
 Should 'swage itself, and be let loose to thine. 
 Though the bare earth be all our resting place, 
 Its roots our food, some clift our habitation, 
 I'll make this arm a pillow for thine head, 
 And as thou sighing liest, and swell'd with sorrow, 
 Creep to thy bosom, pour the balm of love 
 Into thy soul, and kiss thee to thy rest ; 
 Then praise our God, and watch thee till the morning. 
 
 Otwav, 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR, 
 
 By T. Bensley, Bolt Court ; 
 
 AND SOLD BY WILLIAM MILLER, ALBEMARLE STREL'I 
 AXD MESS. ARCH, CORNHILL. 
 
 1807=
 
 TO 
 
 HER ROYAL HIGHNESS 
 
 Cije princess 
 CHARLOTTE ^AUGUST*/! 
 
 OF WALES, 
 THESE POEMS 
 
 ARE 
 RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED, 
 
 BY 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 

 
 HER ROYAL HIGHNESS 
 
 Cije princess 
 CHARLOTTE AUGUSTA 
 
 OF WALES. 
 
 I DEDICATE the following PoClll Oil AfFEC- 
 
 tion to your Royal Highness, having, 
 with great satisfaction, witnessed, on several 
 occasions, how highly you exemplify the 
 virtue of filial attachment. 
 
 In making you the first offering of my 
 Muse, I approach you with no venal strains — 
 I heap no incense on the altars of flattery. 
 The period in which we live is of a na- 
 ture to teach even Royalty the vanity of 
 adulation.
 
 Ylll DEDICATIOX. 
 
 In the course of human events, it may 
 be expected that you will one day sway 
 Britain's sceptre. — Then may you, like Eng- 
 land's Elizabeth, reign in the hearts of a 
 brave and free people, the protector of your 
 subjects, and the terror of your enemies. 
 
 Anxious that your growing years may 
 be marked by your distinguished virtues, 
 
 I subscribe myself, most respectfully, 
 
 Your Royal IIigiixess's 
 
 Obedient Servant, 
 
 THE AUTHOR.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 Although a life of active business is unfriendly 
 to the Muses, they have often occupied a leisure 
 hour with delight; and among the evanescent 
 moments of past existence, next to those which 
 have been devoted to the discharge of duties, 
 there are none which I recal with more pleasure 
 than those employed in literary attainments; nor 
 have they been without benefit: whilst my imagi- 
 nation has penetrated human nature with Shake- 
 spear, or soared sublimer heights with Milton, I 
 have found my judgment matured, and my heart 
 corrected. 
 
 On no occasion have I suffered the pursuit to 
 interfere with more important duties. But " the 
 " most busy man, in the most active sphere, can- 
 " not be always occupied by business. He who 
 " is so happy as to have acquired a relish for the 
 " entertainments of taste, or the study of polite 
 kt literature, is not in hazard of being a burden
 
 X PREFACE. 
 
 " to himself. He is not obliged to fly to low 
 " company, or to court the riot of loose plea- 
 " sures, in order to alleviate the tediousness of 
 " existence/' 
 
 Philip of Macedon, who was not less fond of 
 wine than dominion, being at table with Diony- 
 sius, spoke of the odes and tragedies which his 
 father had left behind him with an air of raillery 
 and contempt, and seemed unable to comprehend 
 at what period of his life he had leisure for such 
 compositions: Dionysius pointedly replied, "Why 
 " he composed them at those hours which you 
 " and I, and many others, employ in getting 
 '• drunk." 
 
 I am aware, by those who consider the at- 
 tainment of wealth as the desideratum of life, 
 these sentiments may be denominated romantic; 
 but so fully am I convinced of the truth of them, 
 that in the superintendance of. the numerous 
 family with which Providence has privileged me, 
 next to the cultivation of the heart and the du- 
 ties of religion, I have endeavoured strongly to 
 inculcate the importance of attaining eminence 
 in some ornamental or useful art or science,
 
 PREFACE. XI 
 
 either as an employment for those leisure hours 
 which would otherwise be in danger of being 
 spent in inanity or dissipation, or as a most va- 
 luable resort in the hour of misfortune; to the 
 female sex in particular I would urge this, for 
 reasons innumerable. And it is with consider- 
 able pleasure I notice, that long after having 
 written the above observations, I find the senti- 
 ments contained in them fully confirmed by the 
 opinion of that illustrious character Sir Thomas 
 More. From an entertaining and ingenious life 
 of him just published by Mr. John Macdiarmid, 
 in his Lives of Eminent British Statesman, I 
 select, with permission, the following extracts. 
 
 " His opinions respecting female education, 
 " which are distinctly related by Erasmus, and 
 " to the following purport, differed very widely 
 " from what the comparative rudeness of that 
 " age might have led us to expect. By nothing, 
 " he justly thought, is female virtue so much 
 " endangered as by idleness and wanton amuse- 
 " ments; nor against these is there such an effec- 
 " tual safeguard as an attachment to literature. 
 " Some security is indeed afforded by a diligent
 
 Xll PREFACE. 
 
 ' application to various sorts of female employ- 
 ' merits ; yet these, although they employ the 
 ' hands, do not wholly occupy the mind. But 
 ' well chosen hooks at once afford full occupa- 
 '• tion to the thoughts, refine the taste, elevate 
 ' the fancy, strengthen the understanding, and 
 1 confirm the morals. Female virtue, informed 
 ' by the knowledge which they impart, is placed 
 ' on the most secure foundations, while all the 
 ' milder affections of the heart, partaking in the 
 ' improvement of the taste and fancy, are re- 
 ' fined and matured: for vain indeed is the ex- 
 ' pectation that ignorance renders the disposi- 
 '• tion of women either more virtuous or more 
 ' tractable. How many have been ruined by 
 • want of knowledge, by inability to penetrate 
 ' the arts employed against them! And how, in- 
 ' deed, can that virtue which rests upon igno- 
 ' ranee be accounted secure anv longer than it 
 ' is kept beyond the reach of a dexterous tempter? 
 ' Equally absurd is it to imagine that knowledge 
 ' will render women less pliant: nothing is so 
 untractable as ignorance, nothing so obstinate 
 " as those who cannot be made sensible of their
 
 PREFACE. Xlll 
 
 prejudices. But as, on the other hand, a well 
 informed woman will be most apt to perceive 
 the force of reason, and to discover what con- 
 duct is most consistent with decency, propriety, 
 and prudence; it is in such a wife that a hus- 
 band must ever find most ready compliance, 
 unless he requires her to do what decency, 
 propriety, or prudence, command her to for- 
 bear. Although to manage with skill the ordi- 
 nary detail of feeding and clothing a family, 
 be an essential portion in the duties of a wife 
 and a mother; yet, in order to secure the af- 
 fections of a husband, during the continued 
 and permanent intercourse of a married state, 
 it is no less indispensable to possess the quali- 
 ties of an intelligent and agreeable companion, 
 fitted to comprehend the means of increasing 
 domestic enjoyments, and of promoting the 
 future welfare of her children; nor ought a 
 husband, if he regards his own happiness, to 
 turn aside, with fastidious negligence, from the 
 task of repairing the usual defects of female 
 education. Never can he hope to be so truly 
 beloved, esteemed, and respected, as when his
 
 XIV PREFACE. 
 
 " wife confides in him as her friend, and looks 
 " up to him as her instructor." 
 
 The plan of the following Poem was sketched 
 out some years ago, the outline has been filled 
 up during occasional intervals of leisure. I have 
 endeavoured throughout to avoid any peculiar 
 elevation of language; the subject is in its na- 
 ture of a softened tone; the expression should 
 partake of the same character, and be an appeal 
 to the heart rather than to the head. 
 
 The second part is of a religious nature; a 
 Poem on Affection would be incomplete which 
 did not attempt to express the benevolence of 
 the Deity, which shines so conspicuously through 
 all existence; the grandeur of this part of the 
 subject overpowers all combinations of language. 
 
 It will be observed that the notes extend to 
 some considerable length; but as they contain 
 several facts illustrative of the most eno-agina; 
 circumstances in animated nature, it is presumed 
 that they will not be read without interest. 
 
 It would be unjust not to express my ac- 
 knowledgments to my friend J. J. Masquerier, 
 for his attention and success in his designs for
 
 PREFACE. XV 
 
 the Vignettes; but most particularly for the alle- 
 gorical representation of Christianity first de- 
 scending to bless our Globe — the eagerness with 
 which, she appears welcomed by a young fe- 
 male — her splendour dazzling the eyes of hoary 
 age, whilst that part of the World which had not 
 received her happy influences, is represented by 
 a sleeping figure thrown into shade — are so beau- 
 tifully expressive as to need no comment. 
 
 The fond Mother's Address to her sleeping 
 Child, and her prayers for its happiness, are so 
 well delineated in the painting of Guido, that 
 had the design been taken from the Poem, it 
 could not have been more suitable.
 
 INVOCATION. 
 
 Ye dwellers in the Isles of Ocean's waves, 
 Bold as ihe storms that burst upon your shores ; 
 ^ e swarthy tribes of scorching Afric's plains, 
 "W hose bondaged children yield to foreign lands 
 That culture which should meliorate your own; 
 .And ye who rove Columbia's infant realms, 
 Her lofty mountains, or her green retreats, 
 Join, with the polish'd sons of Europe's courts, 
 And ancient Asia's thousand peopled towns, 
 In one enkindling song with nature join, 
 To him who bids each varied bosom glow 
 With sweet Affection's countless throbs of joy: 
 Whether its flame two faithful hearts cements, 
 Resplendent in the filial feelings shines, 
 Or warms the bosom of fraternal love ; 
 Sparkles with pleasure in a parent's eye, 
 Illumes the altars of pure friendship's flame, 
 Or glads the martyr 'midst tormenting tires. 
 
 b
 
 C O N T E N T S. 
 
 Page 
 
 Affection, Part I 1 
 
 II 45 
 
 Mother's Address to her sleeping Child 7-5 
 
 An emblem of Industry TJ 
 
 On an Oak JS 
 
 To John Hoppner Esq 79 
 
 War Song SO 
 
 A Task 82 
 
 To Henry Keene, Esq 82 
 
 Theodosius and Constantia 83 
 
 To James Losh, Esq 89 
 
 Lines written by an unfortunate . 90 
 
 Inscription for an Arbour 91 
 
 Sonnet 92 
 
 Moonlight Sketch 93 
 
 On Adversity 94 
 
 To Mrs. Sarah Parsons 95 
 
 Epitaph on Cowper 96
 
 AFFECTION 
 
 PART F.
 
 CONTENTS OF PART I. 
 
 Affection eternal and universal — the Ivy and the Woodbine 
 emblems thereof — apparent in the Nightingale — the 
 Horse — the Dog — the Bear — the Elephant. — In savage 
 life — the savage of Aveyron — Abba Thulle — Prince Lee 
 Boo — the Blacksmith of interior Africa — attachment to 
 inanimate objects and places — to pleasures long past — to 
 friends beloved separated by death — Petrarch and Laura — 
 the stimulating motive of true patriotism — Hampden — 
 Sydney — the Swiss. — Episode to freedom. — Public afflic- 
 tion for the loss of distinguished characters. — Address to 
 Britain — and to her Sailors. Patriotism of Washington — 
 Alfred. — Affection early displayed by children — the sexual 
 affection — whence arises the conjugal, paternal, filial, and 
 fraternal. — Friendship. 
 
 Episode on Monarchy. — Patriotism of the Volunteers of 
 Britain. — True affection disinterested, and strongest in 
 Females — often very vivid when the human frame is near 
 dissolution — displayed with sweet simplicity in Chil- 
 dren — modern times not degenerate — Howard. 
 
 Affection has sometimes disarmed the Murderer — often pro- 
 duces extreme misery. — The Maniac.
 
 Si =s '- 
 
 i s there a passion of the human mind, 
 That lifts to rapture, or that sinks to wo, 
 Which more inspires the muses' harmonies, 
 Than sweet affection ? Plant imperishable !
 
 2 AFFECTION UNIVERSAL. 
 
 That in profusion, round the throne of God 
 Immortal bloom'd; long ere yon radiant sun 
 Had davvn'd on Paradise; and rich will bloom, 
 When worlds shall burn, and time shall cease to roil 
 
 Tain would I trace thy universal sway 
 Through nature's wide domain ; or known to man 
 Or yet beyond his penetrative search : 
 Thou vital principle pervading all, 
 By goodness and by power supreme, design'd 
 To give to life its most endearing charm. 
 
 Ev'n in the vegetable world, wo find 
 Some traces faint of this primordial law : 
 So polish'd Darwin sings the loves of plants, 
 To ancient song" unknown, or darkly told 
 In Tbeophrastus", or in Pliny's page 
 
 •\n emblem of affection, there behold 
 The sportive Woodbine twine round every shool 
 That near it grows, and to the summer's gale 
 Spreads its gay blossoms; while its rich perfumes 
 Refresh the traveller on his weary way.
 
 IVY NIGHTINGALE. 
 
 Yon Ivy too, with its encircling arms 
 Enfolds the sturdy oak, and braves the storm ; 
 Winter may rage, and spend its utmost force 
 In angry tempest, or descending snows; 
 Meridian suns may dart their fiercest beams, 
 Nor storm, nor sunshine parts what nature joins. 
 Thus have I seen, in youth's enchanting hour 
 A happy pair, who in each other view'd 
 All that young fancy gives to warm desire : 
 Ruthless misfortune, with her angry blast, 
 But binds them closer in the ties of love. 
 
 Ascending in creation's ranks, observe 
 The feather'd race : at each returning spring, 
 Mated by strong instinctive power, they fly, 
 And with invigorating bursts of love, 
 In tuneful carols, hail each opening morn. 
 
 But hark ! what notes of wo assail the earr 
 Why, lovely Philomel, those plaintive strains? 
 Sweet chauntress of the solemn midnight hour, 
 I love to hear thv song mellilluous flow :
 
 4 HORSE DOG. 
 
 But why complain? Ah ! thou hast cause to mourn ; 
 Robb'd or' thy mate, and of thy unfledged brood, 
 Affection wakes in thee those heartfelt tones, 
 The farewell anthem to thine own decease. 
 
 Nor be that useful animal the Horse 
 Forgotten in my song. Patient and fond, 
 And to thy master's well known voice attacb'd. 
 But ah! how much by man abused and urged, 
 Beyond all proper speed; unjust return. 
 Yet one has met a better, worthier fate, 
 Esteem'd when living, honour' d in his dust; 
 Who, having born with step firm and secure, 
 His wandering master over lofty Alps, 
 Ausonian plains, and Pyrcnean heights, 
 Return 'd to roam at large the beauteous wilds 
 Sweet Vectis' isle displays; till, worn with age, 
 He sunk in death, and there his cold remains 
 Lie heap'd beneath the sod he living cropt. 
 
 See too the faithful Dog, a hardy race, 
 Whose tried fidelity and fondling arts,
 
 DOG — BEAR. 
 
 Demand returns of grateful tenderness. 
 
 Whether we seek thee on the scathed heath, 
 
 Of Scotia's mountains, guardian of the flock, 
 
 And sole companion of the shepherd swain; 
 
 Or in the nobler form, and loftier mien 
 
 Of Newfoundland's majestic, generous breed, 
 
 Whose bold exertions in the cause of man 
 
 Deserve the note of praise. Poor mariner ! 
 
 'Twas thine, when wreck'd by overwhelming storm 
 
 On England's eastern coast, to trust thy store 
 
 To no unfaithful friend : no force could tear 
 
 The treasure from his grasp, till, midst the crowd, 
 
 By sympathy impell'd, or instinct bid, 
 
 He yielded to a chosen hand his trust; 
 
 And thence return 'd to watch with anxious eye, 
 
 The scatter'd fragments of the floating wreck — 
 
 "Would lie had found his struggling master there. 
 
 Beasts, that still roam untameable by man, 
 Acknowledge this great law : the silver Bear, 
 Inhabitant of Greenland's frozen clime, 
 Protects her young with almost human care;
 
 O ELEPHANT 
 
 Such her affection, to her surly race, 
 Each wound, that tyrant man unfeeling gives, 
 But more unites them to her parent heart; 
 Attachment strong scarce ceasing ev'n in death. 
 
 Unwieldy Elephant! sagacious beast, 
 Connective link to man's intelligence, 
 And liable to passion's strong extremes; 
 When first hy art surrounded and entrapp'd. 
 Kindness and care must prompt thee to obey, 
 Then to thy master ever faithful found, 
 And mild and temperate as the summer's breeze ; 
 But, once incens'd, the tempest in its rage 
 Bursts not with greater fury to destroy, 
 Than darts thy vengeance on thy feeble foe. 
 A hungry elephant, his food withheld, 
 Angry, and worried to a savage state, 
 The offender seized in his re>istless grasp, 
 And life's sustaining pulses beat no more. 
 The widow'd wife — the mother all forgot, 
 hnpell'd by frenzy, seized her orphan babes, 
 And bade him glut his horrid vengeance there: 
 
 £
 
 ELEPHANT. 
 
 As if relenting, straight be raised the boy 
 
 With tenderness upon his lofty trunk, 
 
 And thence became his servant and his friend. 
 
 Ask of Batavia's sons, they can attest 
 Some dreadful instance of such stern revenge. 
 
 By nature social form'd: and seemingly 
 Of dignity, and consciousness possess'd; 
 When, roaming Africa's or Asia's wilds, 
 Some new discover'd pasture is enjoy'd: 
 Not like the glutton, greedily devour'd 
 A. solitary, covetous repasc, 
 But instantly the well-known signal given, 
 That others may partake the grateful feast. 
 And when subdued to man's imperious rule, 
 Obedient found ; and fondling to the hand 
 That feeds and tends thee : alive to shame, 
 And sensible of benefits conferr'd ; 
 Partaking too of man's infirmities, 
 Proud of the gaudy trappings, and of state.
 
 8 SAVAGE OF AVEYRON — PELEW ISLANDS. 
 
 But most in man, Affection doth unfold 
 Its choicest sweets: for him it truly blooms 
 An amarathine flower of richest hues, 
 Diffusing fragrance through the wastes of time. 
 Not only whore the sun of science shines; 
 Amid the deep impenetrable shades, 
 The tangled brakes of Avcyron's thick woods, 
 Ev'n there some glimmerings of affection's flame, 
 The untaught lesson of the savage life, 
 Have kindled towards some well remember'd haunt. 
 
 Nor shall thy shores, Pelew, remain unsung, 
 Thy hospitable! shores: when tempest driven 
 The hapless Wilson and his suffering crow 
 Were shipwreck'd on thy strand, no demons there 
 Rush'd forth to plunder: blush! Oh England, blush ! 
 All was benevolence and active aid, 
 And welcomed every stranger to thy isle; 
 Land of affection and heart-felt delight ! 
 A\ hen from the fragments of the shatter'd wreck, 
 A bark was built, and bore thy guests away, 
 How swell'd the surges with the parting tears?
 
 BLACKSMITH OF AFRICA. 
 
 Hail Abba Thullc! Nature's genuine child! 
 Oft have mine eyes bedewd the melting page, 
 The record of thy worth ; and by thy side 
 Have mimber'd o'er the knots — the note of time 
 Allow'd to absence; oft with thee have felt 
 Keen disappointment's sting, and wept with thee 
 Lee Boo's lamented fate; whose tender heart 
 O'erflow'd with kindness, to the faithful friends 
 Who bade his gentle spirit rest in peace. 
 
 Nor the dark tint of inmost Afric's clime, 
 Has power to shade Affection's vivid ray 
 Which shines resplendent mid her sooty race; 
 The burning influence of meridian suns 
 But calls her purer virtues into bud, 
 And bids them bloom the ornament of man : 
 Not the loved monarch, to his throne of state 
 Was e'er received with warmer welcome home, 
 Than the poor menial of adventurous Park 
 To Jumbo's plains, and her uncultured sports; 
 His drooping mother, feeble, aged, blind, 
 Retraced with tender hand his well known form,
 
 10 MARINER YOUTH. 
 
 Well pleased to fold him in her arms again ; 
 The music of his voice, made rapture play 
 Around her heart, and gladden life's decline. 
 
 E'en things inanimate have power to charm, 
 Recalling to the heart affection's sweets: 
 How beats the bosom at the sight of Home, 
 That home, by time and absence long endear'd. 
 And if perchance our early days were spent 
 Amidst the calm of happy rural scenes, 
 What joy to find again some favorite tree, 
 Beneath whose branching shades we lost fatigue. 
 Or sportive pass'd youth's buoyant hours away, 
 Nor fear'd the clouds or storms of future life: 
 What leads the mariner, who wings his way 
 Through every sea that laves this nether globe, 
 To seek his wealth 'mid elemental strife r 
 What but the hope that fortune once attain'd; 
 At home delighted he may rest at last ? 
 
 This strong desire in joyous youth is felt, 
 And thoughts of home and its attaching joys
 
 PETRARCH HAMPDEN. 11 
 
 Sustain the scliool-boy in his daily task ; 
 The needle to the magnet not more true 
 Than to the human breast the love of home. 
 
 And who that long hath trod the path of life, 
 Whether his walk be scatter'd o'er with flowers, 
 And happiness companion of his way, 
 Or thorny mazes cross him at each turn, 
 But sometimes backwards casts a sorrowing view 
 On scenes once loved, and still to memory dear? 
 Who but can heave the deeply painful sigh 
 O'er the sad relicks of a friend entomb'd ? 
 
 Thus pensive Petrarch mourn 'd his Laura's fate, 
 And oft by moonlight, musing he would rove 
 The cloisters' bounds, where first she met his sight, 
 And many a rural scene, or welcomed thought 
 Whisper'd of interviews and pleasures past ; 
 Pure were their loves, as angel spirits pure 
 L nmix'd with sensual, and of higher birth. 
 
 Sav what affection fills the Patriot's breast.
 
 12 SYDNEY EQUAL LAWS. 
 
 For his dear native land ? Possess'd of all 
 That fame or affluence, could of joy impart, 
 What urged our Hampden to the tented field ? 
 'Twas patriot worth, 'twas injured England's weal 
 And love of liberty that called him forth, 
 To dare each danger in the ranks of death : 
 Departed Spirit ! Shade! admired, revered, 
 Thy country owns the boon thy courage sought. 
 While she laments thy fate ; and bids her sons 
 To time's remotest day, by thee inspired, 
 Nurture the sacred flame with pious charge, 
 A bright example to the Nations round. 
 And thine too, Sydney, be the laurell'd wreath 
 Verdant through changing seasons as they roll, 
 And ever blooming. Thy undaunted mind 
 Disdain'd tyrannic power, nor valued life 
 Unless endear'd by freedom's holy flame. 
 
 In England now, the attemper'd law defines 
 Alike the monarch's and the hireling's claims, 
 And Life, and Liberty, are sacred held, 
 And guarded with a reverential care:
 
 SWITZERLAND. 13 
 
 No despot dares assume illegal sway 
 
 Or wrest the law to purposes of wrong ; 
 
 E'en the dark robber's, and the traitor's arm 
 
 Are cover'd with a panoply complete, 
 
 Till, by a verdict of their peers condemn'd, 
 
 They lose with infamy their forfeit life. 
 
 Glorious pre-eminence in Britain's code ! 
 
 Her justly honour'd boast. Ye gallant youths ! 
 
 Protect it with unenervated arm, 
 
 Long as your Isle emerges from the waves 
 
 Which beat your shores, and waft your best defence. 
 
 Helvetia ! at thy fate my bosom burns 
 With warmth indignant ; though I never trod 
 Thy smiling plains, or scaled thy snowy heights, 
 Yet have I loved thee with a patriot's love, 
 And mourn thy abject fall. Oh ! where were flown 
 Those spirits brave, who erst in freedom's cause, 
 Uprear'd their banners and repell'd each foe, 
 When Gallia dared with bold and impious hand 
 Prophane thy altars and subvert thy laws: 
 Was it in envy of thy simple charms,
 
 14 EPISODE TO FREEDOM. 
 
 Thy manners bland, thy dear domestic joys, 
 Deep contrasts to the restless tyrant's soul, 
 That thus he bade the minions of his power 
 Tear up thy furrows, and despoil thy homes r 
 
 So prize I freedom, I would not confine 
 One little wing'd inhabitant of air: 
 From infancy my heart was taught to love 
 And venerate the cause of liberty; 
 And since she hath become of power to choose, 
 Reason hath well confirm'd, what precept taught. 
 I love the feather'd race, and gladly hear 
 The Aviary of Heaven. Sweeter far 
 The wildest warblings of the woodland choir, 
 Untaught by human art, than all the airs 
 Which avarice and cruelty educe. 
 And do you wish variety of song, 
 Make it your pleasing task from earliest spring, 
 In some secluded, unfrequented spot 
 To strew a daily and a plenteous store. 
 Nor suffer aught to give your guests affright : 
 Primeval confidence,, thus surely won.
 
 NATIONAL AFFECTION. 15 
 
 Will well repay each kind assiduous care, 
 With the sweet harmonies of grateful song, 
 And Eden's ararden seem to bloom anew. 
 
 Nations can weep, and shed the public tear 
 O'er the cold ashes of their Heroes fallen. 
 When Chatham died, Britons bedew'd his hearse, 
 O'er Abercrombie's grave they duly mourn'd, 
 And who that droopt not when brave Nelson fell ? 
 What though the rocky shores of Trafalgar 
 Resound with victory to a wondering world, 
 Great in effect beyond the muses' ken, 
 Yet Britain deem'd that victory bought too dear 
 With the rich purchase of her Nelson's Life. 
 
 When will sweet peace, her silvery flag unfurl'd. 
 Visit the nations with her cheering smiles, 
 And cruel war prostrate beneath her power, 
 Gorged with the full repast, recumbent crouch? 
 
 My Country ! Oh my Country ! whilst the muse. 
 The fond, the partial muse records thy worth
 
 16 EFFECTS OF LUXURY. 
 
 And dwells delighted on the pleasing theme ; 
 
 ^\ rapt in prophetic* dream she trembling reads 
 
 Thy future fate: What though thy shores are wash'd 
 
 W ith Ocean's waves ; what though thy gallant sons, 
 
 Triumphant there, fill the astonish'd world 
 
 With deep amazement at thy deeds in arms 
 
 That well compeer with Greek or Roman fame ? 
 
 ^ et hath she cause to dread,, lest luxury, 
 
 The insidious foe of kingdoms, as of men, 
 
 Debase the spirits of thy noble race, 
 
 And all thy dread exploits, be only known 
 
 To future ages, and to unborn realms 
 
 In poet's numbers, or the historic page. 
 
 So read we now, in Homer's loft}' song, 
 
 Of mighty Hector and his Trojan bands. 
 
 Of fierce Achilles and the flower of Greece. 
 
 And of devoted Troy: so history tells 
 
 Of Hannibal in arms, Carthage destroy'd, 
 
 And what remains of Macedon and Greece; 
 
 In later times : what of imperial Rome, 
 
 The mistress and the tyrant of the world, 
 
 Renown'd in arms, nor less in glorious deed 1
 
 BRITISH SAILORS. 17 
 
 Nought but the classic page : So shall it be, 
 
 Some distant day, but be it distant far, 
 
 That England's foes shall triumph o'er her fate, 
 
 And hail her fallen. — The Muse too weeps, 
 
 And feels the crimson blush suffuse her cheek 
 
 At recollection of thy monstrous crimes ; 
 
 The rising sun dawns on thy eastern shores, 
 
 Marking thy conquests, and thy tyrannies ; 
 
 And redden'd his descending western beams 
 
 W iih indignation at the scenes of wrong, 
 
 Of rapine, cruelty, and slavery, 
 
 Which thy misguided senates have confirm'd. 
 
 These dim the lustre of the brightest gem 
 
 That radiates from thy crown; 'tis these invoke 
 
 Heaven's wrathful chastisements upon thy head, 
 
 Bid thee to groan beneath th' oppressive weight 
 
 Of strong exactions, and defensive war: 
 
 And crimes like these, must hasten thy decay. 
 
 Ye brave defenders of your country's cause. 
 Ye Tars of Britain, nursled in her storms, 
 I own your valour, and your high desert, 
 
 c
 
 18 TRUE HEROISM. 
 
 And with the general voice would mingle mine 
 
 To testify the gratitude we owe. 
 
 But L would have you brave in other cause, 
 
 Bold in the ranks of virtue, foremost there 
 
 As now where glory leads, you eager press, 
 
 And the small pittance which your courage earns. 
 
 And earns so well by honourable toil, 
 
 By high disdain of comfort, and of death. 
 
 Not lavish'd in the lavish wanton's arms, 
 
 But stored for pleasures round your social hearths : 
 
 The founders of a band endear'd indeed, 
 
 A band of warriors ready at the call 
 
 Of Britain's danger, to protect her cause. 
 
 I praise the Hero, venerate him high, 
 And would on adamant record his worth, 
 Who not impell'd by lawless thirst of power, 
 By mad ambition, or dire love of fame, 
 But in affection to the righteous cause 
 Lnsheaths his sword to guard a nation's rights; 
 And thus, () Washington, thine honour'd name, 
 Graved on the rock of liberty, shall stand
 
 INFANTINE LOVE. ]<J 
 
 Posterity's bright land-mark and appeal : 
 And thus too, Alfred— eagle daring soul ! 
 With England's welfare glowing at his heart, 
 Rush'd fearless to the conflict's thickest rase, 
 Turning the tide of battle with his arm ; 
 By adverse fortune undismay'd, he seized 
 The happy moment to regain his crown. 
 Nor less rcnown'd in council, and in peace 
 The honour'd founder of our envied code, 
 The peerless monarch of Britannia's realm. 
 
 But richer fruits Affection's blooms produce. 
 View the young nursling in the dawn of life, 
 See with what eager, with what fond embrace 
 It clings delighted to the parent, breast, 
 And bids its playful fingers tell its joy: 
 Repeated kindness, daily, hourly given, 
 Binds the loved child with firm but welcomed chains 
 In strong Affection ; and early thus implants 
 The noblest feelings of the human soul ; 
 As years increase, love's wilder passion burns, 
 Whence spring the charities of social life.
 
 520 CONNUBIAL LOVE. 
 
 But call not b}' Affection's sacred name 
 The enfeebled love, taught in the modern school 
 Ol" affectation or pretended lore, 
 A\ Inch melts in sorrow at the slightest tale 
 Of airy fiction : but withholds the tear 
 Or helping hand when real misery calls: 
 ]Sor prostitute her pure ethereal fire 
 To illume the couches of licentious love. 
 Affection's altars yield a steady flame, 
 And cast a radiance o'er the paths of life. 
 
 How adamantine are the chains that bind 
 Hearts in connubial love, when kindred souls 
 As years advance entwine with firmer band? 
 Serena saw each season as it chang'd 
 Come fraught with blessings : Stranger to care, 
 JSot covetous of wealth, rich in content, 
 And happy in the husband of her choice. 
 Blest with few friends, those few to virtue dear, 
 The peaceful pleasures hover'd round her home, 
 Till the fell blast, eommission'd to destroy, 
 Struck comfort dead —for Henry was no more.
 
 COXNUBIAL LOVE. 21 
 
 No warning given, no sickness to subdue, 
 Or mellow grief; she heard the dreadful tale, 
 Summon'd her energies to tend his corse, 
 To see Affection's last sad office done, 
 Then, as the flow'ret blighted by the storm, 
 She droopt, and sought a refuge in the skies. 
 
 Ye, who have tasted true connubial love, 
 Tell a fastidious world that dares to smile, 
 And almosts doubts the joys of married life, 
 That you have drank of pleasure at its fount : 
 How grateful to enfold in pure embrace 
 Our early choice, by faith and love approved, 
 And long tried virtues more and more endear'd. 
 
 And see yon polish'd marble seems to say 
 What once was great and honourable on earth 
 Is now beneath that earth consign'd to dust, 
 But not forgotten. So I read the care 
 And neatness that the scene impressive speaks, 
 And speaks aright : a happy wedded pair 
 Asunder torn by death's resistless arm, 
 The weeping widow to the tomb convey 'd
 
 oo 
 
 CONNUBIAL LOVE. 
 
 The partner of her life, in manhood's bloom. 
 Successive years have lingering roll'd away, 
 Though bless'd with title, and with wealth in store 
 To banish sorrow, still she constant pays 
 The nightly tribute of a falling tear. 
 
 Time, as thou tak'st thy circuit to destroy 
 The stately palace or the lofty dome, 
 Spare, spare yon antient cross, — if it must fall, 
 Oh, let it fall the last beneath thy stroke ! 
 To conjugal affection dear, it stands 
 A proud memento to each married pair. 
 When Henry, influene'd by mistaken zeal 
 Summon'cl his warriors to the holy land, 
 Eleanor, high in virtue as in birth, 
 By perils unappall'd, follow'd her lord 
 V, here'er the battle raged. Her Edward pierced 
 By poison'd weapon, felt the rankling wound 
 Baffling all aid — one only hope was left — 
 Those lips, on which enamour'd he had hung, 
 \\ ith unremitting constancy applied, 
 Drew from the venoin'd hurt its deadly power, 
 Saved a loved lift-, and more endear'd her own.
 
 MATERNAL LOVE. 23 
 
 And from amidst the scenes that flit around, 
 Is there a sight more welcome to the heart 
 Than a fond mother hovering o'er her babe, 
 And with a joy, to mothers only known, 
 Chasing away each cause of slightest ill : 
 
 Oh how can language paint the troubled mind, 
 The trembling hope, the dark foreboding fears 
 Which in a mother's breast alternate strove, 
 When to the mercy of the floating stream 
 She dared commit the offspring of her womb, 
 The future saviour of the Hebrew race? 
 And say, what lustre sparkled in her eyes 
 When, Heaven directed, Pharaoh's daughter sought 
 The sweet refreshment of the cooling wave. 
 And saw the lovely infant struggling there ? 
 Compassion, inmate of the female breast, 
 Prompted to save, what tyranny condemn'd. 
 
 Maternal love ! sweet source of boundless good. 
 How dost thou shed through all the hours of life 
 Rays that illumine to its latest day,
 
 ~4 MATERNAL LOVE. 
 
 Though scarcely seen amid a bustling world ? 
 How many heroes that adorn her page ? 
 How many minds intent on human weal, 
 Were form'd beneath the tender fostering hand 
 Of a fond mother's kind, unwearied carer 
 Who saw the opening foliage promise well, 
 And with solicitous emotions fraught, 
 Nursed the young plant to vigour and to fame. 
 
 Bright uem of sorrow, blest maternal tear, 
 That fond affection urges from its source, 
 And bids adown the rustic cheek to How ; 
 I've seen thy briny currents sparkle there, 
 And thence emit as clear, as pure a ray, 
 \\ hen a griev'd parent waii'd a child in death, 
 As e'er bedew'd the eye of wealth or power 
 Mourning an only son, an heir entomb'd : 
 'Twas in a vale, where art with nature join'd 
 To pour its richest stores, its choicest sweets, 
 And oft the loved resort of me and mine. 
 Rut more of one, whose amity i^ fame, 
 \\ ho tausfht me first to seek this calm retreat:
 
 MATERNAL LOVE. 25 
 
 A rustic pair from year to year had lived 
 Blest with small competence, and that obtaiti'd 
 With industry and care : pleased they beheld 
 A numerous progeny around them rise; 
 Till death, relentless, bent his fatal bow, 
 And call'd a maid of fairest promise home. 
 I well remember, I would ne'er forget 
 How the fond mother told the piercing tale, 
 And forced the springs of sympathy to flow. 
 
 Injured Matilda! Denmark's murder'd Queen, 
 Whose hapless fate awakes each Briton's tear: 
 Thy home invaded at the midnight hour, 
 The lovely decencies of life infring'd ; 
 Forced from the splendors of thy rightful throne, 
 To the dank vapours of the prison's bound, 
 The solitary tenant of a cell : 
 Yet through the gloomy horrors of the scene 
 How did thy bosom leap with rapturous joy 
 At the known sound of thy Louisa's voice; 
 Prest to thy bosom in the fond embrace, 
 And all the mother sparkling through thy tears,
 
 26 MATERNAL LOVE. 
 
 Then didst thou taste a luxury in grief 
 "Which only the unfortunate can know. 
 But short thy transport, short thy span of life, 
 And swift thy progress to the darksome tomb. 
 Thus oft the blossom'd rose, the garden's pride, 
 The acknowledged sovereign of the gay parterre, 
 Nipp'd by a frost, a sharp, a killing frost 
 Its beauties scatter'd, and its fragrance gone, 
 Torn from its flowery empire, fades forlorn. 
 Or dies neglected on the barren waste. 
 
 Mothers of Britain ! highly honour'd names, 
 The muse invokes you by the dearest ties, 
 The ties of nature, to protect your babes ; 
 And, in despite of fashion's murderous voice, 
 To yield to them that precious nutriment 
 "Your lovely breasts in copious draughts afford. 
 Hath not your God impressively made known 
 I J is sovereign will, bidding your bosoms swell 
 With the salubrious fluid, when alone 
 Your beauteous offspring needs its milky stores. 
 "Nor is the lovely task without reward ;
 
 PATERNAL LOVE. 0-7 
 
 Unless where weakness or disease invade, 
 
 It generates to both an healthful state; 
 
 Sows the first seeds of sweet affection's bloom, 
 
 Which, well matured, yields fruit of grateful taste. 
 
 And who, that love as mothers ought to love, 
 Can trust their treasures to the hireling's arms; 
 Or how expect from her maternal care, 
 Who, by necessity or avarice urged, 
 Can violate the prime of nature's laws ? 
 
 Nor burns the fire of true parental love 
 Y\ ith languid heat, or with less ardent flame, 
 In the firm purpose of a father's breast; 
 A\ ho in his children feels young life renew'd, 
 And seeks their welfare far above his own. 
 W ith tortur'd bosom and with bleeding heart 
 Zaleucus found the virtuous law transgress'd 
 Which, more than others, he was bound to guard, 
 His son the sad offender; horrid thought — 
 What could a father do? How bid the day 
 No longer burst upon the darken'd sight,
 
 28 PARENTAL LOVE. 
 
 The usual sentence for the adulterer's crime : 
 
 He felt the deep, unutterable wo, 
 
 And to preserve the righteous law unbroke, 
 
 And guard a son from darkness worse than death, 
 
 Shared with that guilty son the sentence due. 
 
 Ye rich, ye gay, ye votaries of joy, 
 Who pleasure seek in every varied form, 
 And, ever seeking, run the countless round 
 Unsatisfied, approach this clearer spring ; 
 O dare to taste, and tasting, to partake 
 The true delights of sweet domestic bliss : 
 Where eye meets eye, with pleasure ever new. 
 Nor disregard, ye parents, when I say 
 If } T ou would see your race around you blest, 
 Welcome with open arms each loved return, 
 And climb about you with sincere embrace, 
 From tried experience, 1 advise you well, 
 Make home delightful ; and your cheerful hearth 
 The scene of all your best, your richest joys ; 
 With books well suited to the several tastes 
 To entertain, and cultivate the mind:
 
 FILIAL LOVE. Q ( J 
 
 Nor think it takes from manly dignity 
 To join your offspring in each varied sport 
 Of childhood or of youth ; so shall you find 
 Affection grow, progressive with their years. 
 
 And in a world allow'd ^o deep in crime, 
 Revelling in blood, where war and carnage dire 
 Have reign'd so long, commission'd to destroy 
 In the divisions of this peopled earth, 
 That scarce a family has 'scap'd a wound, 
 As Parents, Widows, Orphans, weeping tell ; 
 It sure were wise in such a general wreck 
 To cultivate domestic bliss with care, 
 And fan th' expiring chanties of life. 
 
 In the young bosom this bright virtue burns, 
 Where the well regulated mind displays 
 The fond regard, and duty sweetly prompts. 
 Nor need we call some bright example forth 
 To testify the force of filial love : 
 How many parents with delighted tongue, 
 And sensibility's bright starting tear,
 
 30 FRATERNAL LOVE. 
 
 "W ill own the rugged road of life's decline 
 
 Is smooth'd indeed when children faithful prove, 
 
 Their fond attentions banishing each care? 
 
 Sweetly the cultur'd mind of Pope has told 
 How much a filial fondness had endear'd 
 The sacred dust near his high groves entomb'd. 
 And when his mother's picture met his sight, 
 " A mother loved, a mother lost so long," 
 Oh how melodiously did Cowper strike 
 His pensive lyre, and bid its melting tones 
 \ ibrate the deep regrets his bosom felt! 
 
 Rich the example of fraternal love 
 In patriarch Abram's highly favor'd race, 
 When threatening famine rear'd its meagre front 
 Around their home, and Jacob's sons went forth 
 To Egypt's happier plains, and plenteous stores, 
 Where Joseph reign'd with merited command; 
 How yearn'd his bosom for the dear embrace, 
 Their enmities forgot: beneath his state 
 He saw them prostrate bend ; but well restrain'd
 
 FRIENDSHIP. 31 
 
 Each tender feeling of his generous heart 
 Till they had brought the brother of his love : 
 Then from their deep recess the briny tears 
 Burst their imprisonment, and forc'd their way 
 In copious torrents down his manly cheek. 
 
 And what is purest friendship's ardent flame, 
 But strong affection for the mind we love ? 
 How stedfastly its sacred altars burnt, 
 By England's patriot band illumed, when Charles, 
 For bold resistance "gainst despotic power, 
 Bid Russell bleed beneath the rugged axe; 
 How did he soar indignant 'bove his wrongs ! 
 Fearless of death, his noble soul refus'd 
 The generous offers of the faithful friends, 
 Who would have shared his ignominious fate. 
 
 Monarchs were sent to guard the race they rule, 
 To form the great design, and give it force ; 
 But when, unmindful of such high intent, 
 They sway an iron sceptre, and pervert 
 The honour'd foims of law to vilest end,
 
 OX VOLUNTEERS. 
 
 Resistance then becomes the virtuous deed, 
 The noble struggle, and the lofty aim. 
 
 And with what ardour burnt the patriot flame 
 In Britain's sons, when Gallia's vaunting- voice 
 Proclaimed aloud her purpose to invade 
 Our happy land, despoil our peaceful homes, 
 Deface our altars, and insult our God! 
 Europe seem'd trembling o'er our threaten'd fate ; 
 Then sudden and alert the nation rose, 
 And with united force rush'd to the field, 
 Resolv'd to conquer or to perish there. 
 Insolent tyrant! where is now thy boast ? 
 
 Where'er affection's standards are uprear'd, 
 Her votaries, strangers to all sordid cares, 
 Seek first the happiness of those they love, 
 Content, although they sacrifice their own ; 
 Here female worth unrivall'd ever shines; 
 What though not form'd to dare the lofty heights, 
 To scale the heavens, to trace the comet's path, 
 With mathematic skill to measure stars.
 
 FEMALE WORTH. 33 
 
 Or dive with keen and metaphysic power 
 In all the deep research of human lore ? 
 Yet who can range like them creation's bounds, 
 With fancy revelling midst her wild domains, 
 Or boast like them the impassion'd soul, constant 
 Through every changing scene of chequer'd life, 
 And faithful e'en to death ? Whether we rove 
 Siberia's desart plains, or Libya's wastes, 
 Woman, endearing Woman, has been found 
 Prompt and compassionate; and form'd to sooth, 
 And mitigate the woes of human life. 
 
 With undiminish'd force affection clings 
 Towards some loved object of a cherish'd hope, 
 Though all of mortal borders on its change, 
 And languid droops and falls. — When grieved of late, 
 1 long and anxious watch'd a parent's bed, 
 Where deep disease assail'd each vital power, 
 How, 'midst the burning of the fever's rage, 
 Attachment strong burst from the feeble frame 
 With the firm vigour of enliven'd youth!
 
 34 PARENTAL PLEASURES. 
 
 And ask of sick beds whence, and what their joys? 
 Nor deem disease an ever-joyless state : 
 No; the attentions which the heart inspires 
 From those we love, by mutual love endear'd, 
 Who bending o'er our couch, with anxious care 
 Watch every look, and would prevent each wish ; 
 Can brighten all the languors of disease, 
 Smooth the tired pillow of declining age, 
 And death itself of half its sting disarm. 
 
 And when enfolded in the circling arms 
 Of a loved child, whose native sympathies 
 And fond caresses ursre the close embrace, 
 How hath my happy bosom felt the swell 
 Of sacred rapture ; and the ecstatic thrill 
 Fleet through my veins, with such soft ravishment, 
 That I have almost seem'd to taste and know 
 Heavenly delight, though habitant on earth 
 Thus sooth'd, I have to pleasing slumbers sunk, 
 Fearful lest life's realities should break 
 Such dear delight, such welcomed sweet illusion. 
 \nd thus when travelling my onward road,
 
 MODERN TIMES. 
 
 25 
 
 Amidst the tangles and the hidden paths 
 Of mazy life, no flower has more beguiled 
 My weary way, or chann'd my ruffled sense 
 To a forge tfulness of anxious care, 
 Than the simplicity, and joyous sports 
 Of happy youth : oft have I join'd with them 
 ]ii every infantine or boyish play, 
 Seeming to live my childhood o'er again, 
 
 Whilst thus, Affection, roving I have mused 
 W ith pensive melancholy on thy sweets, 
 Diffused through every link of being's chain; 
 And found each glowing feeling of my soul 
 Absorb'd in thee, and thy loved harmonies, 
 I've on my waking pillow breath'd a prayer, 
 That all who bear the high and honour'd form 
 Of their original, might feel impress'd 
 To increase the sum of bliss. Not that I join 
 The general cry of the unthinking crowd 
 Against the enormities of modern time; 
 1 grant that vice too high uplifts its head. 
 Flaunting with titles to the mid-day sun,
 
 36 HOWARD. 
 
 And with its broad and bold unfeeling stare, 
 Runs riot, and oft sboeks tbe virtuous heart. 
 But human nature, always tbus depraved, 
 And prone to wander, ever has been found, 
 As now, inclined to trample virtue clown. 
 And I dare estimate among mankind 
 jNo small amount of piety and worth, 
 »Vhich, stealing silently and unperceived, 
 Asks not the trump of fame to sound its praise, 
 But yet obtains its tribute of applause ; 
 And though but little known or valued here, 
 'Tis fairly written in the book of Heaven 
 Against a judgment clay, a bless'd record. 
 
 Sometimes indeed a hero will stand forth, 
 Bold lor his (Jod, and zealous in his cause: 
 Taught by his great exemplar, Howard strove 
 To mark his way with traits of happiness. 
 Where pride, or aflluence, or ambition reigns, 
 The darksome eel; is but at distance view'd 
 Contrasted vriih the bright and blissful state ; 
 But Howard's ardent mind, intent on good,
 
 AMBITIOX. 37 
 
 Burst every prison bar. No cell too dark, 
 No dungeon too obscure, but he would bid 
 The sun of consolation dart its beam ; 
 Nor loathsome taint, nor desolating plague 
 Deterr'd his daily visits— these to sooth 
 His joy in life, his solace when in death. 
 
 E'en when ambition plans the deadly deed. 
 And hellish rancour points the fatal steel, 
 When all the soffness of the woman's lost, 
 Religion, honor, every tie forgot, 
 Some hidden spring of strong affection's power 
 Unnerves each sinew in the trembling hand, 
 And bids the uplifted dagger harmless fall. 
 Thus nature's poet, matchless Shakespear, search'd 
 With eye intuitive the assassin's soul. 
 
 Oh the fine fibres of the hidden frame ! 
 With vast design and wondrous power arranged, 
 To serve the purposes of human life, 
 And yet so nice "the balance at the beam, 
 "That oft affection proves the spring of wo !"
 
 3S THE MAX I AC. 
 
 See ! yon poor Maniac ! shivering in her cell. 
 With hair dishcvell'd, and with bosom bare ; 
 Once bless'd with innocence, each hour was gay. 
 Till in her breast convulsing passions strove, 
 And raised a dark and wild tornado there, 
 That in its progress burst the slight barrier, 
 W hich in each fine wrought mind but feebly guards 
 The seat of intellect : all, all was then 
 A splendid ruin, and an awful wreck. 
 
 Mark her, ye gay seducers ! mark her well ! 
 For who like you should feel the awful changer 
 And tell me if the transient joys you knew 
 When virtue sunk the victim of your ait. 
 Can e'er compensate your atrocious guilt 
 Or wipe away the bitter, bitter tears, 
 Which prostrate virtue sheds when reason dares 
 Resume, at interval, her desert throne. 
 And points the happy heights whence she has fallen 
 
 Go, bid imagination's magic power 
 Doll back on time, and tell what once she v>as —
 
 
 ^Hlllllls 

 
 THE MANIAC. 39 
 
 Form'd to delight the circle where she moved, 
 
 Esteem'd, admired by all; Olivia bloom'd 
 
 In the rich garden of parental love, 
 
 And promised fairest fruit : nursed in delight, 
 
 Each charm or grace her opening mind displayed, 
 
 Was cultured with a fond assiduous care, 
 
 And, as her growing virtues burst on view, 
 
 She reign 'd unrivall'd 'mid her blooming plains; 
 
 In sweet simplicity her youth roll'd on, 
 
 Till in a ruthless hour a plunderer came, 
 
 AH skill'd to lure her unsuspecting soul, 
 
 And win her heart, ere he betray'd his own. 
 
 Great was the conflict in her struggling frame 
 
 'Twixt duty and affection — long she strove 
 
 To tear his favour'd image from her breast, 
 
 And oft resolved to fly her peaceful plains 
 
 To escape a passion now so deep infixt ; 
 
 But what in absence had assumed resolve, 
 
 On his return, became resolve no more, 
 
 And virtue sunk beneath his baneful arts. 
 
 Thus fell Olivia ! Ye proud in virtue, 
 
 Say not you could like Alpine snows have stood
 
 40 THE MANIAC. 
 
 Spotless and pure beneath such burning sun. 
 Wound not her bleeding mind, nor dare to boast 
 Till you have triumph' d in temptation's hour : 
 Her soul untainted, shudder'd at her fall ; — 
 She on the sacred records solemn swore 
 Never again to see the human fiend 
 Who thus despoil'd her virtue and her peace; 
 She fled her native scenes, and long retired 
 'Mid solitude and shade, repentant, strove 
 To sooth her mind, and long lost calm restore. 
 Deep solitude and shade — reflection's darts 
 But swifter urged, and with impetuous force, 
 To frenzy's rage. With quick and hurried step. 
 With heaving bosom, but with stedfast eye, 
 She sought the flood, and instant plunging there 
 A dark oblivious stream had hoped to find. 
 Snatch'd from the watery death by pitying hands, 
 Stretch'd out to save in desperation's hour, 
 She woke to life — just felt its fever burn. 
 Affrighted reason fled — and all was void. 
 
 *:ni> of pakt i.
 
 AFFECTION. 
 
 PART II.
 
 CONTENTS OF PART II. 
 
 Affection traced to its source, the benevolence of God. 
 
 In Creation. — In the happiness of Paradise — enduing man 
 with powers of reason — with the gift of speech — and in the 
 wonderful conformations of nature. 
 
 In Providence. — In the common blessings of life — in fitting 
 the mind for perceptions of beauty and sublimity — in fixing 
 so strongly the desire of happiness — in the appointment of a 
 Sabbath of rest — in the sympathetic feelings — in the plea- 
 sures of religion — particularly in times of distress — in the 
 support it renders to the martyr at the stake. — Apostrophe to 
 England. — Bigotry inconsistent with Christianity. 
 
 In Redemption.— Commencing with the prophecies and pro- 
 mises — flowing with increasing strength till their accomplish- 
 ment in the Saviour of the world. — -What benevolence in his 
 life and actions — at the marriage of Cana — in his mild reproof to 
 his sleeping disciples — at the grave of Lazarus — in the happy 
 effects of Christianity — abolishing human sacrifices — and in 
 promoting all the charities of life. — Mary at the sepulchre, 
 an Episode. — On the comforts which Christianity affords in 
 adversity — under the loss of friends by death. — The deaths of 
 Socrates and Addison compared. 
 
 But the benevolence of the Deity towards the human race 
 shines forth most gloriously in the happiness and durability of 
 heaven, and the new powers with which man will there be 
 invested.
 
 \J that the muse could mount eternal heights, 
 
 And to its primal source affection trace ! 
 Which, when the councils of Almighty power 
 Had iix'd the hlest resolve, and bid von sun,
 
 46 
 
 HAPPINESS IN PARADISE, 
 
 With every planet that around him burns, 
 Burst into birth — enstamp'd upon the whole 
 .Mar!: ;! of his love, and Paradise appear'd. 
 
 Beasts, that are now the; terror of mankind, 
 Then froiick'd round their calm and bappy home. 
 The io<:ed companions of rheh daily walk; 
 And all around was joy, immingled joy, 
 How wide diffused ; and oh ! how great the sum: 
 Prom the ephemera, fluttering into life, 
 Whose being closes with the close of day, 
 Through the extc nded, scale of nature's tribes 
 That winy the air, that float along the stream, 
 Or tread the verdant mead : Creation all 
 Then teem'd with life, with cheerful happy life, 
 And man supremely blest, be nobly lived 
 To triumph in existence, free to sp >rt 
 And revel as imagination led, 
 Or, with superior reason he' his (:\\'.u-.-, 
 Gifted with power to choose or to reject, 
 The proffer'd pleasure or the wary snare. 
 Form'd in the image of bis God; endow'd
 
 VESTIGES OF PARADISE. 47 
 
 With faculties of sight to range at large 
 The horizon's bound,, or dart the aspiring eye 
 Into the starry sphere ; alone possess'd 
 Of speech, sweet speech — communion intimate 
 Of kindred souls, and infinite delight. 
 
 Say, ye bright orbs, as lucidty ye roll, 
 What harmony pervades your glittering spheres? 
 And thou, great source of day, impart to man 
 Thy glorious purpose from creation's birth. 
 What were the lustre of the finest eye 
 Without thy beams ? Darkness had cover'd all, 
 Earth had withheld the bounties of her womb, 
 And kindred elements refused to bless. 
 But vivified by thee, this globe retains 
 Of Paradise some lovely traces still ; 
 And every atom of our circling sphere 
 Enkindles at thy smiles. And thou, pale Moon, 
 And ye resplendent stars, that, hung on high. 
 Guide the bold mariner through untried seas, 
 Or lead the soul, on contemplation's wing, 
 In holy musings to the mercy seat; 
 Ye tell distinctively of love divine.
 
 4S THE ELEMENTS. 
 
 The Elements their share of bounties yield; 
 The Air, with gentle and salubrious breeze. 
 Invigorates and nurtures all around ; 
 Conveys the Sun-beam and the genial rain ; 
 It drives the vessel through opposing seas, 
 Assists the lark in her ascending flight, 
 And bears the ea2;le to the blaze of day. 
 Earth teems with grateful produce, and returns 
 A thousand fold the tribute she receives. 
 She guards the embrio plant from wintry storms, 
 And when reviving spring expands the germ, 
 Gives from her bosom liberal supplies, 
 And clothes creation in its rich attire. 
 The waters flow with blessings; they supply 
 The cheap and wholesome aliment, and join 
 Far distant lands in one contiguous chain. 
 Eire, the great vital principle of life, 
 Keeps the empurpled stream in healthful flow. 
 
 Mark how for man the Elements combine 
 Exalted uses : for him the air becomes 
 Saturate with odours; echoes the lute, 
 Or vibrates to the harp's melodious sound :
 
 THE ELEMENTS. 49 
 
 By its rare fluid it diffuses wide 
 
 The glorious light of day ; and when oppress'd 
 
 By vapours, or by pestilential taint, 
 
 How bursts the storm, or hurricane to clear 
 
 And bid life glow again with rosy health. 
 
 By reason led, man o'er creation reigns, 
 
 Classes her various tribes, assigns to each 
 
 Its proper soil, its aspect, and its clime : 
 
 Pie can behold in nature's tender green 
 
 Charms which the browsing animals ne'er know, 
 
 And from the fruitful vine extract a juice 
 
 To cheer and brighten dark and wintry days. 
 
 He rules the Ocean, draws the unwieldy whale 
 
 From his deep haunts o'ercanopied with ice 
 
 In rocks enthroned : He builds those moving worlds 
 
 Which traverse pathless seas, no pilot there 
 
 But the benignant gems that shine around 
 
 And the unerring magnet, — certain guides 
 
 That waft the daring soul on safetv's wins: 
 
 Through untrack'd ways to new discover'd lands. 
 
 Ev'n the portentous and destructive flame 
 
 By man directed eerves for noblest ends ; 
 
 E
 
 50 CONFORMATIONS 
 
 Condensing steam he gains a powerful force : 
 By science, and by long experience taught, 
 He dares to call the forked lightnings down. 
 
 What adaptations vast and wonderful 
 Nature exhibits ! View her in her works. 
 The insect tribe, who, ever on the wing, 
 Flit through their summer life, have each their food 
 Appropriate; mark the industrious bee 
 Seek the wild thyme, or from the loaded flower 
 Extract its sweets, which born on busy wing 
 To her ingenious, and compact domain. 
 Becomes a treasure to sagacious man ; 
 Who, oft ungrateful for the bounteous feast, 
 Rewards the giver with untimely death. 
 Oh ! spare thy benefactor, and thy shame, 
 And spare the portion of their honey'd store 
 Which winter life requires ; Spring will return, 
 And well repay thy care. — In warmer skies 
 The silkworm spins its soft, encircling web 
 I ninjur'd by the storms, and chilling cold, 
 Which, in our rougher clime, full oft deform 
 The gilded radiance of a summer's day.
 
 CONFORMATIONS. 
 
 Who arms the finnv race in coated mail, 
 Conforming all their habits to the stream ? 
 Who in their plumage decks the feather'd tribe, 
 Adapts each wing to sail the yielding air, 
 And gives them by the music of their song 
 To cheer the solemn silence of our groves ? 
 Who guides the swallow in her distant flight 
 Soon as the falling leaf the signal srives? 
 Who bids the robin hover round our homes, 
 From every harm secure ? The corvorant 
 'Habit the cliffs, and from aerial heights 
 Dart on its prey? Who clothes the quadruped, 
 Instructs the patient sheep to seek their food 
 On the bare mountain, fits their fleecy sides 
 To yield to man the warm habiliment? 
 Whilst with her beverage the domestic cow 
 Affects the meadows and the peopled haunts. 
 Who bids the chamois climb the mountain's side, 
 Bounding upon the dangerous precipice? 
 The useful camel traverse desart plains 
 With hoofs prepared to tread the scorching soil 
 And brouse the thorny shrub, unhurt by thirst? 
 He who could wake creation with a word,
 
 Oil CONFORMATIONS. 
 
 And circle it with his love; tvvas he conforrn'd 
 All various nature to its various end. 
 
 The hours their blessings gfive: Lo, morning come: 
 Fragrant with freshness ; then the rising sun 
 Houses the senses, animates the soul, 
 And wakes the world to vigour; when his rays 
 Dart their meridian heat, O then how sweet 
 To seek the coolness and solemnity 
 Of some embower'd wood, some calm retreat ! 
 Till his descending beams array the west 
 And welcome Evening in; hour of delight, 
 Whether enjoy'd mid social sympathies, 
 Or on the margent of some winding stream 
 The solitary wanderer silent roves 
 
 Contemplative Man can illume the night, 
 
 Chase midnight darkness, or dispel her glooms, 
 
 And in the absence of the lights of heaven 
 
 Create a mimic day: he can adorn 
 
 And more resplendent make the diamond blaze : 
 
 He bids theatric art amuse and charm, 
 
 With comic power to wake the lightsome mirth, 
 
 Or rouse the conscience of the guilty soul.
 
 CONFORMATIONS. 
 
 But faint the splendors of the midnight rout, 
 Though thousand tapers shed their feeble rays, 
 To heaven's magnificence. I envy not 
 The crowded domes, the gay, the rich attire; 
 Give me the rural scene, give me to soar 
 On philosophic wing : whether we seek 
 To name each sparkling star, at distance set, 
 And each the sun of some surrounding worlds; 
 To mark the changing planets in their course 
 Attended by their satellites, or trace 
 The blazing comet in its devious way 
 Through heaven's expanse, as yet beyond the reach 
 Of mortal calculation. Who can dwell 
 On themes like these, and rest contented there r 
 
 To cheer the darkness of the polar realms 
 The lengthen'd twilight and the Aurora gleam, 
 And to allay the fever's raging fires 
 Amid the scorchings of the torrid zone, 
 The water lemon, and the coated gourd, 
 The fragrant orange, and the luscious pine, 
 Offer their cooling stores : whilst the full ear 
 Ripens in every clime, and freely give-;
 
 54 CONFORMATIONS. 
 
 A banquet form'd to please and nourish all. — • 
 
 And when, o'erpower'd, man's weary senses sink, 
 
 Night mounts her darken'd throne, and silent reigns 
 
 In sullen empire suited to repose. 
 
 How doth the eyelid guard the tender eye, 
 
 Close it in balmy sleep, and when ret'iesh'd, 
 
 W ake it to hail the day ! — Thus nature gives 
 
 Her growths, her habits, and her wonderous powers, 
 
 All for man's use ; he tills the stubborn earth, 
 
 Knows when to impregnate with the golden grain, 
 
 And when to reap the harvest ; not content 
 
 With the rich produce that her surface yields, 
 
 He digs her hidden treasures from the mine, 
 
 Extracts the buried heaps of minerals, 
 
 And bids them minister to all his wants. 
 
 Nor earth alone explored, he upward mounts — 
 He only knows to raise the lofty hymn 
 Of Gratitude: he only can aspire 
 To mansions of celestial residence. 
 
 Not only at Creation's mighty birth
 
 PROVIDENCE. 55 
 
 The Deity appears ; in Providence 
 
 Conspicuously he shines the God of love! 
 
 I call the common bounties we partake 
 
 To prove his strong affection for our race : 
 
 Yon genial sun emits no kindlier ray 
 
 T' illume the monarch on his throne of state, 
 
 Than to salute the peasant of the rock, 
 
 Who hails his rising from the mountain top: 
 
 Nor is the air which cherishes all life 
 
 Charg'd with more healthful powers than it instils 
 
 Into the mere plebeian's lusty veins: 
 
 The crystal stream that meets him on his way 
 
 Yields to the desart traveller a draught, 
 
 Welcome as rich Falernian ever gave 
 
 In purple streams to cheer the festive board ; 
 
 And the same blade which gives the tyrant food 
 
 Supplies the labourer with his daily bread. 
 
 What though above the cottage in the vale 
 
 Rises the mansion of the wealthy great? 
 
 Yet oft beneath that lowly cottage roof 
 
 Dwells truest happiness, connubial love, 
 
 The sweet affections of a rising race,
 
 DESIRE OF HAPPINESS. 
 
 Health and content, the conscious duty done, 
 The firm reliance on directing Heaven. 
 
 O, what beneficence to man is shewn — 
 Endued with powers to trace his Maker's works, 
 And drink rich pleasures from exhaustless stores ! 
 Whether in beauty's lovely form array 'd, 
 They seize and charm each fine adapted sense, 
 Or awful in majestic grandeur tower, 
 And force the soul to rapt'rous applause. 
 
 And where the car by nature is attuned 
 To music's harmonies, how they delight, 
 Rivet the soul with syren blandishment, 
 Fold the rapt sense in strong enchantment's powei 
 Or softly lull it to a sweet oblivion. 
 
 Nor less conspicuous beams Almighty love 
 Implanting in the restless soul of man 
 Desire of happiness: What though the goal, 
 Receding ever as we seem to gain 
 The destined pleasure, still eludes our hope.
 
 SABBATH. 57 
 
 And leaves us only to renew the chace : 
 Jsot unimportant, or of trivial worth, 
 Is the pursuit ; it gives the present bliss, 
 Invigorates the soul for nobler aims, 
 And bids it in its flight attempt the skies. 
 
 And welcome too to weary wo-wom man 
 The blest appointment of a day of rest. 
 The world, its cares, its sorrows all forgot. 
 To tread the temples of our God below, 
 And hear the message of salvation given : 
 But far avaunt the dark forbidding frown, 
 Remnant of superstition's gloomy reign, 
 Lnlike the sabbath of the christian's God. 
 Let that be welcomed with the cheerful smile, 
 And though the tear of penitence should flow, 
 The uplifted voice of praise and gratitude, 
 The animating hope, the steady faith, 
 And the angelic deed of charity, 
 Should chase each fear and every doubt dispel. — 
 
 In deep distress, when sorrow's heavy clouds 
 O'ercast the brow, and weigh the spirit down ;
 
 58 RELIGION. 
 
 In trouble's day, in sickness of the mind, 
 Say what the solace ? Welcome then the friend 
 Whose tender hand with skill withdraws the shaft 
 In me infixt. And welcome too the tear 
 That glistening in his eve lie strives to hide; 
 And O ! the heavenly music of his tongue 
 That bids religion calm the ruffled soul. 
 
 O blest Religion! gift of the Supreme, 
 Foretold of prophets in the morn of time, 
 That to the poor, the wretched, the forlorn, 
 Salvation's song should through the earth resound, 
 To raise the monarch press'd beneath the load 
 Of mighty empire and the ponderous weight 
 Of regal state ; the refuge too and hope 
 Of misery's outcast child, and sorrow's heir. 
 When poverty's stern grasp unnerves the frame, 
 When disappointment rends the bleeding heart, 
 What joy to think that in a better world 
 The troubled rest, the sad for ever smile ! 
 
 Where'er religion's banners are upheld
 
 ADMOXITION. 59 
 
 By men who dignify her holy cause, 
 
 The plumed conqueror 'midst the carnaged field 
 
 Can bow in homage. Great Marlborough, thus 
 
 With honours crown'd, taught his elated bands 
 
 To reverence Cambray's worth ; a virtuous deed, 
 
 And gilds the victor's triumph. — Fenelon, 
 
 To piety a name for ever dear, 
 
 Though thy pure spirit walks the fields of heaven, 
 
 It lives on earth revered to bless mankind. 
 
 Listen, ye young, ye innocent, ye gay, 
 Attend th' experienced pilot's warning voice 
 Who points the beacon while the sky is clear. 
 In early life, my sentiments unfix'd, 
 Driven by the gales on unbelief's dark shoals, 
 And nearly sunk in shipwreck and in storm, 
 Till Heaven in mercy bade the clouds disperse, 
 And firm conviction, like the ardent blaze 
 Forcing e'en persecuting Saul to yield, 
 Burst on my sight, and all was sweet serene. 
 Faith's steady gales wafted my trembling bark 
 To Hope's strong fortress, and her haven of rest.
 
 6*0 THE MARTYR. 
 
 Turn to von hero in religion's cause. 
 Dear is the circle of the friends we love, 
 And dear the spark of life to human kind ; 
 But not the chain which links us to our race, 
 TSor warm attachment to existence here, 
 Can tempt the sufferer to deny his Lord, 
 Forsake his altars, or profane his name. 
 
 The tortured Indian, writhing on the rack, 
 Frowns dark on his tormentors, his proud soul 
 Disdains complaint, and stubborn meets its fate, 
 With his last accents breathing dire revenge. 
 O! how unlike the martyr at the stake ! 
 He smiles at death, and for his murderers 
 Can call forgiveness down. Elijah like, 
 He views the coming flame with steady eye, 
 And in a chariot of celestial fire 
 Ascends to meet the God in whom he trusts. 
 
 O England ! I lament thy trophied page, 
 Resplendent with each noble generous deed, 
 Should thus be sullied with atrocious acts
 
 CHRISTIANITY BEXEVOLEXT. 6l 
 
 Unknown to Bramin, or to savage rites; 
 
 Shew me within the holy Christian code 
 
 One line to justify the barbarous rasce 
 
 W hich Mary's impious reign records in blood, 
 
 That moment I abjure the christian faith. 
 
 Subvert its altars, lay its priesthood low, 
 
 And only look through Nature to my God. 
 
 I love Religion, love her holy laws, 
 
 Her solemn rites, the music of her choir ; 
 
 But much I blush, that man, mistaken man, 
 
 Hath stain'd her altars, and profaned her cause 
 
 With bigot wrath, and mad anathema. 
 
 Not to the narrow bounds of sect confined, 
 
 Religion, like the high meridian sun, 
 
 Sheds its bless'd influence and consoling power 
 
 Through every region, and o'er every clime ; 
 
 But shines with most serene and cheering ray 
 
 Where Christ is known, and the one God adored. 
 
 When I review the holy Christian faith. 
 Pure as its author gave the boon to men, 
 I feel my bosom, beat with sacred love:
 
 62 REDEMPTION". 
 
 He bids no more the blazing altars burn, 
 Or bleeding victim fall beneath the stroke, 
 He but demands the service of the heart, — 
 Whether it flow in full, and swelling tones, 
 From congregated man, or silent rise 
 In fruitful valley, or in desart waste, 
 From the lone bosom of the worshipper. 
 
 Redemption, highest note of mortal song, 
 Who shall dare raise the lofty theme unblamed 
 Man placed in Paradise, was there enthroned 
 In innocence; no conscience then had roar'd 
 Its mighty thunders to the troubled soul, 
 Within the chambers of the spotless mind 
 No impure thought, no unrestrain'd desire, 
 Had entrance found, till dire ambition sprung, 
 And Eden ceased to smile :— Then he became 
 Outcast from bliss, and pleasures unalloy'd ; 
 But ere he left the garden of his God, 
 Its balmy odours, its refreshing streams, 
 Its cheerful haunts, the home of his delight, 
 Mercy, the brightest attribute of heaven,
 
 PROMISES. 63 
 
 Temper'd his banishment ; and angels brought 
 
 The gracious message to the fallen race, 
 
 'The woman's seed shall break the serpent's head.' 
 
 Primeval promise, kindly, freely given, 
 
 Was but the dawning of a glorious day 
 
 Of restoration. Patriarchs and Seers, 
 
 Enraptured at the theme, have lived, and died: 
 
 Time, as he swiftly flew on eagle wing, 
 
 Saw the inspired page more richly fraught. 
 
 In Abraham, and his seed, the tribes of earth 
 
 Shall hail the blessing. — From Judah's throne 
 
 The sceptre shall not pass till Shiloh come, 
 
 Gathering his willing tribes. — In distant time 
 
 Ezekiel saw the mountain cedar yield 
 
 Shadows to all beneath. — Holy Isaiah, 
 
 With pious lips touch'd by a spark divine, 
 
 From heaven's high altar led the promised morn 
 
 With gladsome tidings. — Sion, behold thy King ! 
 
 Lift up thy voice, Jerusalem ! O earth, 
 
 Break into songs, for your deliverer comes ! 
 
 Ye mountains! echo back the lofty tones 
 
 Till earth's remotest verge shall catch the sound
 
 64 IM MANUEL. 
 
 And hail with glad response. la those bless'd days 
 
 The leafless desart with the rose shall bloom, 
 
 The lion with the lamb shall sportive play, 
 
 And nations learn war's horrid art no more. 
 
 Thus the rapt prophets sang through many an age, 
 
 Reviving oft the spirits of their race 
 
 With the bless'd presage, and the glorious hope. 
 
 Hail, Son of God ! thou great Immanuel, hail ! 
 Enthroned in happiness, diffusing bliss, 
 Archangels sounding all their harps to praise, 
 And every seraph wing'd at thy command, 
 What could induce thee from the heights of heaven 
 To bear the scourge, and bleed upon the cross ? 
 'Twas human weal which urged thy downward flight, 
 Delighted with the sons of earth to dwell. 
 Well might the shepherds sing the illustrious song, 
 " Glorv to God on high, good will to men :" 
 Midnight forgot her glooms, and all was light : 
 The kneeling virgin, and the dazzled sage. 
 Welcomed alike the heavenly harbinger, 
 And distant lands, which yet in darkness sleep, 
 Shall wake to rapture, and partake the joy.
 
 DESCENT TO EARTH. 65 
 
 Angels ! and ye seraphic hierarchies 
 
 Who, ever prompt to execute his will, 
 
 Oft through creation dart your boundless way, 
 
 Charged with some high commission from his throne; 
 
 E'en ye astonish'd gaze with raptured eye, 
 
 On this deep mystery of transcendent love : 
 
 Eager to search, and happy to proclaim, 
 
 The lofty miracle ; with guardian wings 
 
 Hovering around the chosen heirs of heaven, 
 
 Their happiness your most peculiar care. 
 
 Blest habitant of earth, the Saviour came 
 Fraught with benevolence, and rich in love; 
 Mark what affection through his actions ran, 
 How pure his precepts, his commands how kind : 
 Go, heal the sick — Go, comfort the distress'd— 
 Bid the bright day burst on thedarken'd sight, 
 And death's stern monarch yield his captives back — 
 Were the blest mandates of eternal love 
 When earth received her heavenly visitant: 
 Well skill'd in every entrance to the heart, 
 And touch 'd with man's infirmities, his lift' 
 
 F
 
 66' SLEEPING DISCIPLES. 
 
 With genuine sympathy and feeling shone. 
 If festive gladness bless'd the happy boardj 
 His generous spirit shared the social mirth, 
 And wrought a miracle, to add to joy. 
 But was the sinking heart with guilt oppress'd, 
 How the rich stream of consolation flow'd. 
 
 And O, what love, what undissembled love, 
 Fill'd his pain'd bos(jm, when fatigued, o'erpower'd, 
 His faithful followers sunk in deepest sleep: 
 Could ye not watch with me one passing hour : 
 Was all the slighted master's mild rebuke; 
 And, lest such soft reproof might sound too harsh. 
 His honied accents pour'd the healing balm : 
 Full well 1 know your willing minds would bid 
 A prompt obedience to my every wish, 
 But human frailty weighs your spirits down. 
 
 Sweet too the drop that fell from Jesus' eye 
 When o'er the grave of Lazarus he wept : 
 Oh, 'twas a lesson from the school of heaven. 
 To teach affection to the sons of men.
 
 LAZARUS — MARY. 67 
 
 And as the soft refreshing dew of eve 
 Revives the plant scorch'd by meridian sun, 
 The sacred influence of a Saviour's tear 
 Bid the flown spirit to its earthly clay 
 Return, and animate its form again. 
 
 Through life unehang'd, unwearied, undisraay'd, 
 The suffering Saviour, true to human weal, 
 Bore stedfast on — the ignominous cross 
 Witness'd his conquest, and his dying love : 
 Ah ! well might Mary droop beneath her wo ! — 
 In many a page the gracious promise shone, 
 That she should bear a son of high import; 
 And from the cradle, to maturer age, 
 His life had every bright assurance given 
 Of all fulfilment: but when most she thought 
 To see the child of every cherish 'd hope, 
 Pre-eminent in glory and renown, 
 Sorrowing, she saw him stretch'd upon the cross, 
 And weeping, to his lifeless corpse perform'd 
 The mournful offices that nature claims.
 
 68 EFFECTS OF CHRISTIANITY. 
 
 But boast not, Grave, thy momentary reign ; 
 The third, the appointed day, had scarcely dawn'd, 
 Ere rising from the tomb he burst thy bands, 
 Regain'd his empire, and resumed his throne. 
 
 Born on prophetic wing, the muse would point 
 The distant glories or' Immanuel's reign. 
 What though we view not yet those precious fruits, 
 Pendent from every tree which blooms around, 
 Sweet is the promise of the opening bud 
 That bursts upon our sight, and cheers our way: 
 \\ itness, ye Charities for human weal, 
 That sooth the wretched, succour the distress'd; 
 Trace the learn'd legends of the heathen world, 
 The great and glittering empires of the East, 
 Where wealth, and grandeur, in profusion blaze. 
 To pamper greatness — not relieve the wretch; 
 ]n vain ye seek within their ample bounds 
 Those emanations of almighty love 
 Which grace our empire, and adorn our isle. 
 Exults the Christian, he may well exult, 
 For who around this habitable adobe
 
 SOCRATES — ADDISOX. 6'9 
 
 Can boast a faith so pure, humane, sublime, 
 To God so glorious, or to man so kind? 
 Does fortune frown? or poverty intruder 
 The Christian hath inheritance divine 
 Endurable as Heaven's enduring love. 
 Or does he follow to the silent tomb 
 Some form in life entwined around his heart? 
 Full well he knows the animating soul 
 Which gave that form its sympathetic charm, 
 Now ranges through illimitable space; 
 And some few moments past, again they meet 
 Where separation's pang is felt no more. 
 
 Go, search the brightest page of pagan worth, 
 How drear, how comfortless, the parting hour? 
 The virtuous Socrates, whose towering soul 
 Rank'd high in intellect, but dared to hope, 
 That in some better world, he free might range, 
 'Mid philosophic bowers and learned ease. 
 Compare with this the death-bed of the man 
 Who lives the Christian, 'midst opposing strife, 
 V 7 isit his chamber,. — 'tis the porch of heaven ;
 
 70 RISEN SAVIOUR. 
 
 Conscious in whom he trusts, his spirit waits 
 Calm and resign'd, the summons of his God. 
 The raging tempest, or the bursting storm, 
 But waft him sooner to untroubled rest. 
 See Addison stretch 'd on his dying bed — 
 lie could invite the infidel to view 
 His hope and triumph in the arms of death. 
 For him the tyrant smil'd — an Angel sent 
 To guide him safely to eelcstial thrones. 
 
 Bright were the beams of mercy as they rose, 
 More bright the radiance of the opened morn; 
 But who can paint the splendours of the day, 
 Salvation's glories bursting all around: 3 
 
 There, 'midst the throne, the risen Saviour reign- 
 No more the man of sorrows, and of grief, 
 But high exalted, and alone declared 
 Worthy to loose the sealed book of God; 
 While each angelic, each seraphic host, 
 Join in accordant strains of lofty praise. 
 There all is purity, temptation's soft,
 
 JOYS OF HEAVEN. 71 
 
 But syren voice unknown: each sense 
 Exulting feels itself in boundless range, 
 There tremblingly alive, the touch imparts 
 Sensations new, and every touch is joy. 
 Each soften'd zephyr of the ambient air, 
 Impregnate with celestial balm, conveys 
 To the charm'd ear the sweetest melodies: 
 Whilst to the sight extended views are given, 
 To gaze where beauty in perfection shines, 
 
 And shapes immortal endless rise to view. 
 
 Hunger and thirst in those bright realms unfelt, 
 
 The sense of taste would be in vain bestow'd, 
 
 Unless by love, and wisdom infinite, 
 
 It there receives some happier mode to please, 
 
 Or, in exchange, some nobler power conferr'd; 
 
 Perchance the privilege to range through time, 
 
 From its remotest, to its latest bound, 
 
 Viewing, as in a picture, at one glance, 
 
 Each changeful scene, that pass'd in earthly life, 
 
 Unravel all the deep and wond'rous maze 
 In which the paths of providence were hid, 
 And justify the ways of God to man. —
 
 72 CONCLUSION*. 
 
 And am I urged on angel wing to aspire- 
 To these bright regions of inheritance: 
 There let my soul to every joy expand, 
 Gaze with uninjured eye on eentral suns, 
 Mingle with seraph forms that shine around, 
 Share in the freedom of the sons of God, 
 And sing their hallelujahs! — Ecstatic thought! 
 Sure tli is is love, and love beyond degree! 
 Let infidels refuse the profTer'd gift, 
 Mine be the pious boast, the glorious hope, 
 To live the Christian, and receive his Crown.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES.
 
 A MOTHER S ADDRESS 
 
 SLEEPING CHILD. 
 
 uleep on, dear babe— with joy I trace 
 That smile upon thy infant face, 
 And in a parent's loved embrace 
 
 Enfold thee round ; 
 Nor let the fond endearment chase 
 
 Thy slumbers sound.
 
 76 a mother's address. 
 
 May Heaven its choicest influence shed. 
 
 Cherub, on thee! () may it spread 
 
 With flowers the path which thou may'st tread, 
 
 Ev'n to the tomb ; 
 And virtue's laurel, on thy head, 
 
 For ever bloom. 
 
 Whilst thus for thee the anxious prayer 
 To Heaven is raised, that it may spare 
 Thy youthful heart from every snare, 
 
 Of weal, or woe, 
 O cherish for this guardian care 
 
 A grateful glow. 
 
 Thy filial love my life shall cheer, 
 And o'er my dark funereal bier, 
 Say, wilt thou drop the Litter tear, 
 
 Vain though it be ! 
 To all I wish my memory dear, 
 
 But most to thee.
 
 77 
 
 EMBLEM OF INDUSTRY. 
 
 Go, learn from yonder tribe of* bees 
 The way to affluence and ease; 
 In summer, with unwearied care, 
 For dreary winter they prepare; 
 Their honey cull from every flower, 
 And husband well each fleeting hour; 
 Stores to provide which food shall yield 
 When dies the flower, and droops the field. 
 
 Learn hence, ye youths, whilst in your prime 
 Well to improve important time, 
 Remember it flies swiftly on, 
 And, once elapsed, is ever gone: 
 Engrave instruction on your mind, 
 Let wisdom's paths your presence find. 
 That so, when youth has fled away, 
 Old age may smile in its decay.
 
 78 
 
 ON AN OAK. 
 
 Mark yon Oak, and note its birth, 
 Hardy, vigorous, noble tree, 
 Rooted to thy parent earth 
 Long ere I began to be. 
 
 When within the mouldering tomb 
 Cold, and senseless, I am laid, 
 Fresh and verdant thou shalt bloom, 
 Proudly to the tempest spread. 
 
 But, when time has wither'd thee. 
 And thou art sinking to decay, 
 Then may the germ that lives in me 
 Flourish in eternal dav.
 
 79 
 
 TO 
 
 JOHN HOPPNER, Esq. R.A. 
 
 ON 
 
 OBSERVING ALL HIS PICTURES IN THE EXHIBITION 
 OF 1803 TO BE PORTRAITS. 
 
 IIoppner, I mark the progress of thy mind, 
 And would to nobler ends direct thy power: 
 Thy magic pencil never was design'd 
 To immortalize the insects of an hour. 
 
 The page of history open to thy view, 
 Displays the noblest passions of the soul. — 
 Dare with undaunted energy pursue, 
 Nor suffer aught thy ardour to controul. 
 
 Go, bid thy colours tell to distant day 
 Of Acre's well-fought fields, or Egypt's plains. 
 Where British valour shone with noon-tide ray, 
 And well demands each muse's grateful strains. 
 So unborn ages shall record thy name 
 Coeval with thv countrv's well-earn'd fame.
 
 WAR SONG, 
 
 WRITTEN FOR THE 
 
 LOYAL SOUTHWARK VOLUNTEERS, 
 
 1803. 
 
 Hark! the threats of Invaders resound through the air. 
 
 See! a vengeful and menacing foe — 
 Already the Warriors for conquest prepare, 
 Our Riches, our Beauty, already they share, 
 
 Our Cities and Commerce lie low: 
 
 But conquest and plunder, by Britons withstood, 
 
 Shall sink with the boasters in waves; 
 Or the soil which our Forefathers nuitured in blood 
 Shall drink from our bosoms the rich vital flood. 
 Ere Britons submit to be slaves — 
 
 No! it never shall be, — to a man will we rise 
 
 Round the King whom we love and admire; 
 See the phalanx we form all danger despise, 
 And, with hand lifted high, we make oath to the skies. 
 To succeed in this cause, or expire.
 
 WAR SOXG. 
 
 81 
 
 No ! it never shall be, — that the Fair, our delight, 
 
 Shall dishonour'*:! go down to the grave; 
 All the Charities mingle, and urge to the fight, 
 In such cause e'en the darkness of death appears bright, 
 And sacred's the dust of the brave. 
 
 No ! it never shall be, — that they dare to defile 
 
 The fanes of the God we adore ; 
 He for ages has guarded our much beloved Isle, 
 Has bid it with Freedom and Plenty to smile, 
 
 And revered be his name on our shore. 
 
 View the noble assemblage! — a Nation in Arms! 
 
 Should legions escape us at sea, 
 We'll rush on the foe, in thick danger find charms, 
 United — exulting in War's deep alarms, 
 
 Determin'd to die, or be free. 
 
 Then, Britons, arise! 'tis our Country demands 
 That we guard the loved Isle of the Waves! 
 'Tis the soil which our Forefathers nurtured with blood, 
 And each vein in our bosom shall pour its rich flood 
 Ere Britons submit to be slaves. 
 
 G
 
 TO INCLUDE THE WORDS 
 
 ASIJ, JRTIFICE, and HATER, 
 
 GIVEN AS 
 
 A T A S K. 
 
 That Jstifice in Asia first began 
 Is plain, for woman there seducing man,. 
 Did by that direful act such guilt convey 
 As floods of Water cannot wash away. 
 
 TO 
 
 HENRY KEEXE, ESQ. 
 
 WITH A 
 
 DRAWING OF A FAVOURITE TULIP 
 FROM NATURE. 
 
 "When Winter's frosts to Summer's suns succeed. 
 And chilling snow o'erspreads each verdant mead 
 Then may the colours Art doth here disclose, 
 Recal the pleasures that from Nature 'rose.
 
 83 
 
 THEODOSIUS AND CONSTANTLY 
 
 Prostrate before the shrine Constantia kneels, 
 And thus the sorrows of her heart reveals. 
 
 Hail messenger of God! in mercy sent 
 To cheer the wretched, sooth the penitent; 
 Behold, by agonizing passions torn, 
 A child of misery, wandering and forlorn : 
 Still warm in youth, still fresh in healthful bloom, 
 Who sees no refuge but the silent tomb ; 
 Sad to the gay, and dreaded by the blest, 
 But ah ! how friendly to the wretch distrest! 
 
 Imploring Heaven's all free restoring grace, 
 t come repentant, and with sighs confess 
 How much I need thy ardent, pious prayer, 
 Thy sharp reproof, thy constant watchful care : 
 "\\ ith poignant grief these lips shall now reveal 
 W hat still suppress'd they dare no more conceal : 
 
 x Vide Spectator, No, 164.
 
 84 THEODOSIUS AND CONSTANTIA. 
 
 Long has it reign'd the tyrant of my breast, 
 
 And though a tyrant, still a welcomed guest. 
 
 Oft, when amid these sacred walls I rove, 
 
 And seem to yield to Heaven my virgin love, 
 
 An earthly object twines about my heart, 
 
 And robs devotion of her purer part. 
 
 In the young dawn of life's unclouded day, 
 
 While sportive pass'd each fleeting hour away, 
 
 As wandering; through the verdant meads we strav'd 
 
 He pluckt sweet, flowret's for his happy maid ; 
 
 With these, well pleas'd, he'd wreathe my flowing hair, 
 
 Or deck my bosom with assiduous care : 
 
 Delighted thus, from day to day we'd roam, 
 
 Nor thought of anguish in the hour to come : 
 
 As rolling years their stated circuit ran, 
 
 And gave the promise of the future man, 
 
 The kindling passion that had }*et no name, 
 
 Each gentle zephyr fanu'd into a flame: 
 
 To welcome the returning spring we'd rove, 
 
 Or seek in summer's heat the sheltering grove : 
 
 By Iller's mountain stream together stray, 
 
 And watch the fervid sun's departing ray ;
 
 TIIEODOSIUS AXD COXSTANTIA. 
 
 See the bright moon assume the sovereign power, 
 
 Gild the pale night, and give the cooler hour. 
 
 How sweet, but ah ! how soon thus pass'd our youth, 
 
 Endear'd with mutual vows of lasting truth, 
 
 While all unskilled in deep, prophetic lore. 
 
 We form'd bright plans of happiness in store. 
 
 We own'd our loves, and hoped each parent's hand 
 
 Would aid our joys, and join the nuptial band; 
 
 But hoped in vain, no sympathies could move, 
 
 For a°re, alas! forgets what 'tis to love. 
 
 And pride of wealth, with pride of birth combined, 
 
 To chase the native feelings of the mind : 
 
 In vain we urged affection's magic power 
 
 Could cheer misfortune in her darkest hour; 
 
 For when 1 press'd my father's once kind hand, 
 
 He chid me from hi in with a stern command ; 
 
 No tears could melt, no arguments prevail, 
 
 No friend his firm resolve could e'er assail : 
 
 He bid me for the hymeneal rites prepare 
 
 With one who in my heart possess'd no share ; 
 
 Thus, thus impell'd, what could Constantia dor 
 
 One choice was left — to bid the world adieu:
 
 86 
 
 TIIF.ODOSIUS AND COXSTAXTIA. 
 
 Her faithful lover, by report misled, 
 
 Had from that hated world indignant fled. 
 
 Ah ! could he think that his Constantia's charms 
 
 Should he polluted by a rival's arms ! — 
 
 One parting line of wo he left behind, 
 
 The faithful index of his tortured mind ; 
 
 That line I wear intwined about my heart, 
 
 And from the relic but at death will part. 
 
 But all in vain I bid the world adieu 
 
 If his loved image meets my raptured view ; 
 
 In vain my orisons to heaven would rise, 
 
 While words, half uttered, mix with swelling sighs. 
 
 Here tears resistless force their briny way, 
 And on her lips the faultless accents play ; 
 The lovely mourner, struggling with her pain, 
 Continued thus the melancholy -train — 
 Oft, when on holy musings bent, alone, 
 I thus break forth in solitarv moan: 
 
 f Ah! why this silence in the vaulted aii. 
 
 ( V, hy do my lip, refuse themselves to prayer
 
 THEODOSIUS AXD COXSTAXTIA. 87 
 
 ' Why still regret the path I long have trod, 
 * Sweet path of peace that leads unto my God V 
 
 Yet sometimes my freed spirits mount on high, 
 
 And to the throne of God exulting fly, 
 
 Join in the notes with which heaven's arches ring, 
 
 And only seem to want an angel's wing; 
 
 Rapt in full vision of the blissful scene, 
 
 W hy do earth's pleasures dare to intervene i 
 
 Why, with celestial glories in my view, 
 
 Can I not bid terrestrial joys adieu: — 
 
 When trembling at the holy fane 1 stand, 
 
 To yield to heaven my half devoted hand, 
 
 Whilst the loved sisters ranged around the shrine, 
 
 Their bosoms strangers to a liame like mine, 
 
 Sing their loud anthems of acknowledged praise. 
 
 Aid me, like them, my grateful voice to raise; 
 
 Nor let my Theodosius' image dare 
 
 Rush to my view, and rend my bosom there. 
 
 And grant, oh God, at that sad solemn hour 
 
 Eternal love may beam with brightest power ; 
 
 Rid my aspiring spirit eager ri.>e, 
 
 And join the harmonists of vonder skies.
 
 88 THEODOSIL'S AND COXSTAXTIA. 
 
 Constantia thus unburdened all her grief. 
 
 .And felt a momentary sweet relief. — 
 
 But who can paint her Theodosius' soul, 
 
 W hich manly fortitude could scarce controul ? 
 
 When whelm'd in tears, he heard Constantia tell 
 
 What prompted first to bid the world farewell ; 
 
 That flattering word rush'd full upon his sight, 
 
 Blest with Constantia — teeming with delight, 
 
 How did he struggle with the rising- sigh, 
 
 How check the tears that fill'd each glistening eye, 
 
 Ere he could frame the sweet reply of peace, 
 
 And bid the anguish of her bosom cease? 
 
 Then soaring with his theme— sublime as true — 
 
 lie raised Religion's banners to her view, 
 
 Banners of love, by grace divine unfuil'd, 
 
 To shield the wretched, and to save a world. 
 
 By each persuasive power he urgent strove 
 
 To wean her heart from every earthly love; 
 
 Then shew'd a Saviour's wounds, for sinners given. 
 
 And pointed all the bright reward* of heaven.
 
 TO JAMES LOSH, ESQ. 
 
 OF NEWCASTLE. 
 
 A FAREWELL. 
 
 Though time has driven his rapid car along 
 O'er many a hope in early life indulged, 
 Since last we met^ my Losh, I joy to think 
 That we have met again: how sweet to sail 
 Back on the tide of time, and on its wave 
 Retrace the pleasures of life's opening morn; 
 Talk o'er the friends, the associates of our youth, 
 Not spent in folly's maze. — The friends we boast 
 Are friends of science, and of worth approved; 
 Nor few the pleasures my warm bosom feels 
 To see the man in youth I loved so well, 
 So happy in his choice, and in his race. 
 Domestic bliss, sweet plant of paradise, 
 Cultured with care, it scatters rich perfumes, 
 And yields celestial fruit : long be it thine 
 To taste it pure, unblighted by the storms 
 That ofttimes overcast serenest skies. 
 Adieu ! Adieu! if here we meet no more, 
 Congenial spirits join on yonder shore.
 
 90 
 
 SUPPOSED TO BE WK1TTEN BY 
 
 AN UNFORTUNATE 
 
 ON 
 
 HIS ADMISSION INTO MORDEN COLLEGE. 
 
 Ye venerable walls, I bid ye joy, 
 Toss'd on the waves of a tempestuous world, 
 And shipwreck'd on the hidden, dangerous shoals, 
 Of a false friend's profession; — bow I hail 
 Your peaceful shores and harbour of repose ! 
 Adieu ! thou busy world, a long adieu; 
 I trust your false alluring gales no more, 
 I3ut anehor'd safe, the skies all clear around, 
 And nature's gifts, in rich profusion spread 
 Here in the midst of rural smiling scenes, 
 Contented will L roam, and joyful pay 
 To Heaven my vows of ardent gratitude, 
 And heartfelt praise; and Providence adore 
 Tor planting in the breast HUMANITY.
 
 INSCRIPTION 
 
 INTENDED FOR 
 
 AN ARBOUR AT BLACKHEATH, 
 
 Erected on the Grounds of Sir Gregory Page, and in viezv of the 
 Ruins of his Mansion. 
 
 Stranger or friend, whose steps have reach'd this spot, 
 
 To nature dear, pause, and, ere you approach, 
 
 Banish corroding care and anxious thought, 
 
 Which in this calm retreat no welcome find; 
 
 For rural quiet here hath fix'd her home : 
 
 The yellow primrose, the sweet Virgin's bower 
 
 In all its various hues, the trailing woodbine, 
 
 The modest violet, and each gaudy rose 
 
 That scents the summer, or the autumnal scene, 
 
 Oiler their choicest sweets; the feather'd choir 
 
 Make vocal every spray; the country round, 
 
 So rich in verdure and so distant spread, 
 
 Delights the kindling eye ; yon fallen fabric, 1 
 
 Once the resort of grandeur and of wealth, 
 
 And splendid e'en in ruin, speaks a truth, 
 
 Howe'er discordant to the ear of man, 
 
 That he should welcome — powerfully it declares 
 
 All human greatness hastens to decay, 
 
 Virtue alone an amaranthine blooms. 
 
 ^ The mansion of Sir Gregory Page Turner, now in ruins.
 
 92 
 
 SONNET TO SPRING. 
 
 I love to scent the early vernal air, 
 To seek the violet in its deep recess, 
 To tear the primrose from its humble bed, 
 And bid them shed their beauties round my home 
 Or if perchance the bubbling brook is near, 
 I haste and pluck the cool refreshing cress. 
 What though the atmosphere be damp and chill, 
 And moist the yielding soil beneath my feet, 
 Brisk exercise can chase these ills away : 
 And then, how sweet the choristers of air 
 Strain every note to hail returning spring ! 
 Thus every sense regaled, to Heaven 1 raise 
 The notes of praise, of thankfulness, and love, 
 Who form'd my soul to joy in nature's charms.
 
 93 
 MOONLIGHT SKETCH 
 
 FROM 
 
 THE PIER OF RAMSGATE, 
 1806. 
 
 How sweetly on the surface of the sea, 
 
 Fann'd by the gentlest breeze that nature yields. 
 
 The moon-beams sparkle on the rippling wave, 
 
 As though the lustrous diamond cavern'd there, 
 
 But fleeting as the momentary ray, 
 
 That brilliant gem emits; — the flowing tide 
 
 Urges its silvery wave along the sands 
 
 Like liquid ore pour'd from the melted mass; 
 
 The light-house throws its broad and dazzling light, 
 
 A friendly beacon to the tempest-tost, 
 
 Benighted mariner; it seems to say, 
 
 From dangerous seas here calm and safety dwell. 
 
 The Pier, a vast, stupendous work of art, 
 
 Expands its bold and wide encircling arms, 
 
 A refuge or from shipwreck, or from storm
 
 94 
 
 ON ADVERSITY. 
 
 Misfortune's hand may tear away my wealth, 
 Despoil my fields, and lay my gardens waste, 
 Yet not bereave me of loved nature's charms. 
 The verdant meads, the yellow waving corn, 
 The new mown hay, the melody of birds, 
 The pomp of groves, the sweets of early morn, 
 The rural walk at eve, or the more calm. 
 And solemn hour of night : she cannot shade. 
 Spring's early blossoms, summer's gay attire, 
 Or autumn's richer hues : she cannot hide 
 The moon's mild radiance, or the brighter beams 
 Of yonder setting sun: she cannot veil 
 The spangled firmament, through which the mind, 
 Upborn on meditation's wing, will soar, 
 Sublime, to untold worlds — to nature's God : 
 She cannot rob me of my hopes of heaven.
 
 93 
 
 SK\"T TO THF. I.ATE 
 
 MRS. S. PARSONS OF MELKSHAM, 
 
 WITH AN EDITION OF 
 
 ROGERS'S < PLEASURES OF MEMORY; 
 
 NEATLY BOUND IN WHITE CALF. 
 
 Go ! little book ! unadorned as thon art, and in- 
 sensible of thy happy destiny ; oft may thy chaste 
 page recal to remembrance of my absent friend the 
 pleasing incidents of hours long past, which, tenderly 
 treasured in memory, possess more than the energies 
 of present pleasures. Should any inquire, why sent 
 on such an embassy in so plain an attire r Why you 
 were not gorgeously decorated and covered with the 
 crimson mantle? Tell them, that she whom you are 
 destined to charm, regards not the tinselled exterior, 
 too often the substitute of internal worth; tell them, 
 that she whose hours you occasionally may beguile is 
 herself an example, how preferable are the adornings 
 of a meek and quiet spirit, to the gaudy trappings 
 of fashion's favourite daughters.
 
 INSCRIPTION 
 
 FOR A 
 
 MONUMENT 
 
 TO THE 
 
 MEMORY OF COWPER THE POET 
 
 There needs no marble monument to tell 
 
 To distant ages Cowper's raptured mind — 
 
 Tis only placed to guard his sacred dust.
 
 NOTES. 
 
 P. 2, 1.13. So polish'd Darwin sings the loves oj 
 plants. 
 
 Obscure and visionary as are many parts of the 
 ^oem of the " Loves of the Plants/' it must be ad- 
 mitted that Darwin possessed very considerable 
 poetical powers, had he directed them well; from 
 numerous affecting passages I select the following: 
 
 Oft o'er thy lovely daughters, hapless Pierce! 
 Britannia heaves her sighs and dews their hearse.— 
 With brows upturn'd to heaven, " We will not part!" 
 He cried, and clasp'd them to his aching heart. — 
 Dash'd in dread conflict on the rocky grounds, 
 Crash the shock' d masts, the staggering wreck rebounds j 
 Through gaping seams the rushing deluge swims, 
 Chills their pale bosoms, bathes their shuddering limbs, 
 Climbs their white shoulders, buoys their streaming hair, 
 And the last sea shriek bellows in the air. —
 
 98 NOTES. 
 
 Each with loud sobs her tender sire caress'd, 
 And gasping strain' d him closer to her breast ! — 
 Stretch'd on one bier they sleep beneath the brine, 
 And their white bones with ivory arms intwine ! 
 
 l\ '2, 1. 1.5. In Theophrastus or in Pliny's page. 
 
 The historical sera of botany commences with 
 Theophrastus, the disciple of Aristotle. He was born 
 at Eresium, in the island of Lesbos ; and flourished 
 in the third century before the Christian ana, being 
 about 100 years posterior to Hippocrates. His work 
 is entitled " The History of Plants," and treats of 
 their origin, propagation, anatomy, of the construc- 
 tion of vegetable life, and of vegetation. It con- 
 sisted originally often books: but only nine are now 
 extant. In these, vegetables are distributed into 
 seven classes or primary divisions, which have for 
 their object the generation of plants; their place of 
 growth; their si/e, as trees, or shrubs; their use as 
 pot-herbs and esculent grains; and their lactescence, 
 or the liquor of whatever colour, that flows from 
 plants when cut. In this work about five hundred
 
 NOTES. 99 
 
 different plants are described. In the following pas- 
 sage from Pliny may be traced the germ of the Lin- 
 mean System. 
 
 " Moreover all learned men who are deeply stu- 
 died in the secrets of nature, are of opinion, and do 
 teach us, that in all trees and plants, nay even in all 
 things that proceed out of the earth, even in the very 
 herbs there are both sexes. But there is no tree 
 whatsoever in which this distinction of male and fe- 
 male appeareth more than in palm trees."— Pliny, 
 Nat. Hist. Bo. 13, ch.4. 
 
 P. 3, 1. 1. Yon ivy too, with its encircling arms. 
 
 An intelligent friend objected to my introducing 
 the Ivy as illustrative of Affection, it being consi- 
 dered a parasitical plant. But it is by no means cer- 
 tain, that the Ivy injures the tree round which it 
 climbs; neither Evelyn in his Silva Critica, nor Mar- 
 tyn in his Botanic Dictionary, asserts that it does. — 
 Evelyn has a remarkable passage. 
 
 " The removal of Ivy, if very old, and when it
 
 100 NOTES. 
 
 has long invested its support is attended with perni- 
 cious consequences, the tree frequently dying from 
 the sudden exposure to unaccustomed cold." 
 
 Strickly speaking, vegetable life does not afford 
 any instance of affection — it cannot; the woodbine 
 and the ivy are only offered here as emblems thereof; 
 and when the habits of their growth are considered, 
 this is surely no great stretch of poetic licence. 
 
 P. 3, 1. 12. Ascending in creation's ranks, observe 
 T/iefeather'd race: 
 
 Numerous instances of affectionate attachment 
 present themselves from among the feathered race. 
 
 The affection of the partridge for her young is 
 peculiarly strong and lively: she is greatly assisted 
 in the care of rearing them by her male, they lead 
 them out in common, call them together, point out 
 to them their proper food, and assist them in finding 
 it, by scratching the ground with their feet; they 
 frequently set close by each other, covering the 
 chickens with their wings like the hen: in this situa-
 
 XOTES. 10] 
 
 tion they are not easily flushed ; the sportsman who 
 is attentive to the preservation of his game, will care- 
 fully avoid giving any disturbance to a scene so truly 
 interesting; but should the pointer come too near, 
 or unfortunately run in upon them, there are few who 
 are ignorant of the confusion that follows. The male 
 first gives the signal of alarm by a peculiar cry of 
 distress, throwing himself at the same moment more 
 immediately in the w r ay of danger, in order to de- 
 ceive the enemy, he flies, or rather runs, along the 
 ground, hanging his wings, and exhibiting every 
 symptom of debility, whereby the dog is decoyed by 
 a too eager expectation of an easy prey, to a distance 
 from the covey; the female flies off in a contrary di- 
 rection, and to a greater distance, but returning soon 
 after by secret ways, she finds her scattered brood 
 closely squatted among the grass, and, collecting 
 them with haste, she leads them from the danger 
 before the dog has had time to return from his pur- 
 suit. 
 
 Pigeons are gentle and lively: they are fond of so- 
 ciety, and are emblems of connubial attachment, they
 
 102 NOTES. 
 
 arc faithful to their mates, whom they solicit with 
 the softest cooings and the tenderest caresses. 
 
 A sitting hen is also a lively emblem of the most 
 affectionate solicitude and attention; she covers her 
 esjgs with her wings, fosters them with a genial 
 warmth, changing them gently, that all parts may 
 be properly heated : she seems to perceive the im- 
 portance of her employment, and is so intent in 
 her occupation, that she neglects, in some measure, 
 the necessary supplies of food : she omits no care, 
 overlooks no precaution to complete the existence of 
 the little incipient beings, and to guard against the 
 dangers that threaten them. 
 
 P. 4, 1.4. The farewell anthem to thine ozcn decease. 
 
 Naturalists affirm of the nightingale, that when 
 robbed of its young, it frequently will fly to some 
 tree, and by its mournful tones sing itself to death. 
 
 The late Charles Fox thought the nightingale's 
 song an expression of pleasure. Wordsworth has an 
 observation to the same purport. Milton thought
 
 NOTES. 103 
 
 otherwise; and it has occurred to m} r own observa- 
 tion, that a lady of strong understanding and genuine 
 sensibility, is so affected by the midnight tones of 
 the nightingale, as always to feel oppressed by them. 
 I believe the fact to be, that the sons; of the night- 
 ingale is in such perfect harmony, that it vibrates to 
 the different sensations of those who hear it, and is 
 thought either cheerful or melancholy, according to 
 the state of mind of the person who listens to it. 
 
 Though slow in acquiring it, the nightingale is 
 susceptible of an unshaken attachment. It distin- 
 guishes the step of its master, and welcomes his ap- 
 proach with the music of joy; and even in the moult- 
 ing season it idly strains its enfeebled organs to ex- 
 press the warmth of its heart. Sometimes it dies of 
 melancholy at the loss of its benefactor, and if it sur- 
 vives the shock, it is tardy in forming new attach- 
 ment-/' — Buffon, vol.v. Nightingale. 
 
 In agreement with the above observations will be 
 found in the sixty-third Volume of the Philosophical 
 transactions, a scale of the comparative merit of Bri- 
 tish singing birds, in which, supposing twenty the
 
 104 NOTES. 
 
 point of perfection. For mellowness of tone — plain- 
 tive notes — compass — and execution, the nightingale 
 stands nineteen.— But for sprightly notes, she stands 
 only at fourteen; much below the sky-lark, linnet, 
 goldfinch, or robin. 
 
 P. 4, 1. 10. Yet one has met a better, worthier fate. 
 
 In a meadow at the sweet retirement of St. Boni- 
 face, in the midst of the romantic beauties of the 
 southern shores of the Isle of Wight, a rustic seat is 
 erected in remembrance of the long and faithful ser- 
 vice of a Calabrian poncy, who was named Vesuvius, 
 in consequence of his carrying Mr. Bowdler to an 
 eruption on a part of that mountain, to which no 
 horse was ever known to have ascended. He con- 
 veyed the same master across the Simplon and the 
 Gemmi, two of the most difficult passes of the Alps; 
 and after travelling with him above ten thousand 
 miles during ten years, he died of extreme age, in this 
 field, which bears his name; and was buried under 
 the turf in front of this bench, Feb. 9, 1801 .
 
 NOTES. 105 
 
 For e'en this turf, (though here no hapless maid 
 Rouse the fond muse to mourn her early doom), 
 Shall Mem'ry, with its silken wings o'ershade, 
 Point the low dust, and consecrate the tomb. 
 
 And oft as he whose nurt'ring fondness fed 
 The humble tenant of this dark abode, 
 Bends o'er the spot where mingled with the dead, 
 Sleeps the companion of his weary road. 
 
 Shall recollection weave with pensive hand 
 Gay visions floating in the loom of truth : 
 As oft near Baia's shore, on classic land 
 Thy faithful steps sustain'd his wand'ring youth. 
 
 With thee secure on Alpine snows he trod, 
 Climb'd burning mounts, and dar'd the yawning steep, 
 But here at length beneath a lowly sod, 
 No more to wander must thy ashes sleep. 
 
 Since such the lot of all : — whoe'er thou art, 
 Learn gentle patience, faithful friendship here, 
 With firm and cautious steps perform thy part, 
 And claim the tribute of as just a tear. 
 
 WlNTONIENSlS.
 
 106 NOTES. 
 
 1'. 4, 1. 15. the beauteous wilds 
 
 Sweet Vectis 1 isle displays; 
 
 To those who are unacquainted with the romantic 
 scenery of the southern shores of the Isle of Wight, 
 no words can give any adequate idea of its beauties: 
 but to those who have visited them, the following 
 extract from Windham's Tour, must strongly recall 
 them to recollection. 
 
 " The distance from Knowles to Bonchurch, 
 which is the eastern termination of the Undercliff, is 
 nearly six miles, but they are such miles as arc not, 
 for their singularity, perhaps, to be paralleled in the 
 whole world. 
 
 Bold cliffs, low lands, or declining shores, are 
 the usual boundaries of the ocean: but on this extra- 
 vagant coast, a wall-like, rectilinear precipice of 
 lofty rock extends itself for some miles in length, 
 and at the distance of more than a mile from the sea: 
 in this interval of rock and water, colossal fragments 
 of stone, torn or sunk from the precipice, by some 
 ureat convulsion of nature, are scattered below in the
 
 NOTES. 107 
 
 most irregular confusion. These solid masses are of 
 such a ponderous magnitude, that they form high 
 eminences of the most capricious shapes, while their 
 intermediate spaces become deep vallies, in which 
 houses are built, and even ashes and elms are seen 
 to flourish, sheltered from the storms and the spray 
 of the sea, by the hospitable and lofty shades of the 
 fragments. 
 
 Every spot of this land, that can bear the impres- 
 sion of a plough, is uncommonly fertile and well cul- 
 tivated; but the fruitful patches are of all sizes and 
 figures, and the huge rocks, covered with briars, fre- 
 quently arise from amidst a polygon enclosure of two 
 or three acres." 
 
 Some faint idea of this country may, perhaps, be 
 conceived from the above description, which, from 
 the towering hills above, appears to the eye like a 
 level plain; but which, when seen from the sea, rises 
 like a series of gigantic steps, that seem to lead from 
 the cliffs of the shore, which are even there of great 
 elevation, to the summit of the grand perpendicular 
 wall. The houses of St. Lawrence are interspersed
 
 108 NOTES. 
 
 between these majestic ruins of nature; and its little 
 diminutive church is erected upon one of its frag- 
 ments, but which, indeed, contains a surface suffi- 
 cient for the foundation of a cathedral." 
 
 P. 5, 1. 17- Would he had found his struggling mas- 
 ter there. 
 
 " During a severe storm in the winter of 1789* a 
 ship, belonging to Newcastle, was lost near Yar- 
 mouth ; and a Newfoundland dog alone escaped to 
 shore, bringing in his mouth the captain's pocket- 
 book. He landed amidst a number of people, several 
 of whom in vain endeavoured to take it from him. 
 The sagacious animal, as if sensible of the import- 
 ance of the charge, which in all probability was de- 
 livered to him by his perishing master, at length 
 leapt fawningly against the breast of a man who had 
 attracted his notice among the crowd, and delivered 
 the book to him. The dog immediately returned to 
 the place where he had landed, and watched with 
 great care and attention for every thing that came
 
 NOTES. 109 
 
 from the wrecked vessel, seizing them and endea- 
 vouring to bring them to land." — Bewick's Qua- 
 drupeds. 
 
 The following traditionary ballad is preserved 
 with much care at Bethgellert, in North Wales, and 
 is said to be founded on a fact: it places the attach- 
 ment and faithful services of the canine species in a 
 most interesting point of view. 
 
 BETH-GELERT; a 
 
 OR, 
 
 The Grave of the Greyhound. 
 
 I. 
 
 The spearmen heard the bugle sound, 
 
 And cheerly smiled the morn, 
 And many a brach, and many a hound. 
 
 Obey'd Llewellyn's horn. 
 
 a Llewellyn the Great had a house here. The Greyhound, Gelert, 
 was given to him by his father-in-law king John, in the year 1205 ; and 
 the palace to this day is called Beth-Gelert, or the Grave of Gelert.
 
 110 NOTES. 
 
 II. 
 
 And still he blew a tender blast, 
 
 And gave a lustier cheer, 
 " Come, Gelert, come — wert never last 
 
 " Llewellyn's horn to hear. 
 
 III. 
 
 " Oh where does faithful Gelert roam, 
 
 '•' The ftower of all his race, 
 " So true, so brave, a lamb at home, 
 
 " A lion in the chace: " 
 
 IV. 
 
 'Twas only at Llewellyn's board 
 
 The faithful Gelert fed, 
 He watch'd, he serv'd, he cheer'd his lord, 
 
 And centinel'd his bed. 
 
 V. 
 
 In sooth he was a peerless hound, 
 
 The gift of Royal John 3 
 But now no Gelert could be found, 
 
 And all the chace rode on. 
 
 VI; 
 
 And now as o'er the rocks and dells 
 The gallant chidlings rise.
 
 XOTES. Ill 
 
 All Snowden's craggy chaos yells 
 The many mingled cries! 
 
 VII. 
 
 That day Llewellyn little loved 
 
 The chace of hart or hare, 
 And scant and small the booty proved, 
 
 For Gelert was not there. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Unpleased Llewellyn homeward hied;, 
 
 When, near the portal gate, 
 His truant Gelert he espied, 
 
 Bounding his lord to greet. 
 
 IX. 
 
 But when he gain'd his castle door, 
 
 Aghast the chieftain stood, 
 The hound all o'er was smear'd with gore, 
 
 His lips, his fangs ran blood. 
 
 X. 
 
 Llewellyn gazed with fierce surprise, 
 
 Unused such looks to meet, 
 His fav'rite check' d his joyful guise, 
 
 And crouch'd and lick'd his feet.
 
 112 NOTES. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Onward in haste Llewellyn past, 
 
 And on went Gelert too, 
 And still where'er his eyes he cast, 
 
 Fresh blood gouts shock'd his view. 
 
 XII. 
 
 O'erturn'd his infant's bed he found, 
 With blood-stain'd covert rent, 
 
 And all around, the walls and ground 
 With recent blood besprent! 
 
 XIII. 
 
 He call'd his child ; no voice replied ; 
 
 He search'd with terror wild: 
 Blood, blood he found on every side, 
 
 But nowhere found the child. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 " Hell hound ! my child by thee's devour'd," 
 
 The frantic father cried, 
 And to the hilt his vengeful sword 
 
 He plung'd in Gelert's side ! 
 
 XV. 
 
 His suppliant looks, as prone he fell, 
 No pity could impart,
 
 NOTES. 113 
 
 But still his Gelert's dying yell 
 Pass'd heavy o'er his heart. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Arouz'd by Gelert's dying yell, 
 
 Some slumb'rer was waken'd nigh — 
 
 What words the parent's joy could tell 
 To hear his infant cry! 
 
 XVII, 
 
 Conceal'd beneath a mangled heap 
 His hurried search had miss'd; 
 
 All glowing from his rosy sleep 
 The cherub boy he kiss'd. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Nor scratch had he, nor harm, nor dread, 
 
 But the same couch beneath 
 Lay a gaunt wolf all torn and dead, 
 
 Tremendous still in death ! 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Ah! what was then Llewellyn's pain? 
 
 For now the truth was clear 
 His gallant hound the wolf had slain, 
 
 To save Llewellyn's heir.
 
 114 NOTES. 
 
 XX. 
 
 Vain, vain was all Llewellyn's wo, 
 
 " Best of thy kind adieu ! 
 " The frantic blow "which laid thee low, 
 
 " This heart shall ever rue." 
 
 XXI. 
 
 And now a gallant tomb they raise, 
 With costly sculpture deckt, 
 
 And marbles storied with his praise 
 Poor Gelert's bones protect. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 There never could the spearman pass, 
 
 Or forester, unmoved; 
 There oft the tear-besprinkled grass 
 
 Llewellyn's sorrow proved. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 And there he hung his horn and spear, — 
 
 And there, as evening fell, 
 In fancy he would often hear 
 
 Poor Gelert's dying yell. 
 
 XXIV. 
 And till great Snowdon's rocks do mould, 
 
 And cease the storm to brave, 
 The consecrated spot shall hold 
 
 The name of Gelert's grave.
 
 NOTES. 115 
 
 P. 6, 1. 4. Attachment strong scarce ceasing e'en in 
 death. 
 
 The white bear brings forlh two young at a time. 
 Their fondness for their offspring is so great, that 
 they will die rather than desert them : wounds serve 
 only to make the attachment more violent. They 
 embrace their cubs to the last, and bemoan them 
 with the most piteous cries. a 
 
 a The white bear proves a ferocious and dangerous enemy to those 
 who approach the inclement shores of Greenland ; and both from its 
 rude appearance, and from the inhospitable climate which it inhabits, 
 we should conclude it to be among the most hardened of the savage race. 
 Yet even in this animal some remarkable traits of instinctive tenderness 
 have been observed. Some sailors belonging to a Greenlandman, in put- 
 ting off from the shore, observed a bear, with her cub, stealing away 
 from the place where she had been lurking for them. They fired, and 
 the cub fell. Next day, as they approached the shore in the same place, 
 they were surprised to discover the bear at the very spot where they had 
 fired upon her. By the help of a glass, they could perceive her crouched 
 by the side of her dead cub , licking it with her tongue, and occasionally 
 employing her paw to move it towards her dug, as if she would have 
 tempted it to take its usual nourishment. As they advanced, she made 
 no effort to escape ; and when they fired, her writhing and groans gave 
 symptoms of her having received a severe wound ; yet still she did not 
 stir from the place where her dead cub lay. A second shot put an end 
 to the sufferings of this savage animal, which had displayed a maternal 
 tenderness that would have been admirtd in the human race.
 
 1 16 XOTES. 
 
 " The ferocity of the bear is as remarkable as its 
 attachment to its young. A few years since, the 
 crew of a boat belonging to a ship in the whale- 
 fishery, shot at a bear at a great distance, and wounded 
 it. The animal immediately set up the most dreadful 
 yells, and ran along the ice towards the boat. Be- 
 fore it reached it a second shot was fired and hit it. 
 This served but to increase its fury. It presently 
 swam to the boat, and in attempting to get on board, 
 reached its fore-foot upon the gunnel ; but one of 
 the crew having a hatchet, cut it off. The animal 
 still continued to swim after them till they arrived at 
 the ship; and several shots were fired at it which 
 also took effect: but on reaching the ship it imme- 
 diately ascended the deck, and the crew having fled 
 into the shrowds, it was pursuing them thither, when 
 a shot laid it dead." — Bewick's Quadrupeds. 
 
 P. G, 1.5. Unziie/dy Elephant ! sagacious beast, 
 
 Of all the creatures that have hitherto been taken 
 into the service of man, the elephant is pre-eminent
 
 XOTES. 11/ 
 
 in the size and strength of his body, and inferior to 
 none in sagacity and obedience: when tamed it i- 
 gentle, obedient, and docile. Patient of labour, it 
 submits to the most toilsome drudgery, and is so atten- 
 tive to the commands of its governor, that a word or 
 a look is sufficient to stimulate it to the most violent 
 exertions. Its attachment to its keeper is so great, 
 that it caresses him with its trunk, and frequently 
 will obey no other master: it knows his voice, and 
 can distinguish the tone of command of anger or ap- 
 probation, and regulates its actions accordingly: it 
 receives his orders with attention, and executes them 
 with eagerness, but without precipitation. 
 
 The manner of taking, taming, and rendering 
 these animals submissive, is curious: in the midst of 
 a forest abounding with elephants, a large piece of 
 ground is marked out, and surrounded with strong 
 palisades, interwoven with branches of trees: one 
 end of the inclosure is narrow, from which it widens 
 gradually, so as to take in a great extent of country. 
 Several thousand men are emploved on the occasion,
 
 118 NOTES. 
 
 who place themselves in such a manner as to pre- 
 vent the wild elephants from making their escape : 
 they kindle large fires at certain distances, and make 
 a dreadful noise with drums and various kinds of dis- 
 cordant instruments, calculated for the purpose of 
 stunning and terrifying the poor animals; whilst ano- 
 ther party, consisting of some thousands, with the 
 assistance of tame female elephants trained for the 
 purpose, drive the wild elephants slowly towards the 
 great opening of the inclosure, the whole train of 
 hunters closing in after them, shouting and making 
 a great noise, till they are driven by insensible degrees 
 into the narrow part of the inclosure, through which 
 there is an opening into a smaller space, strongly 
 fenced in, and guarded on all sides. As soon as one 
 of the elephants enters this strait, a strong bar closes 
 the passage from behind, and he finds himself com- 
 pletely environed. On the top of this narrow passage 
 some of the huntsmen stand with goads in their hands, 
 urging the creature forward to the end of the passage, 
 whence there is an opening just wide enough to let
 
 NOTES. 119 
 
 him pass. He is now received into the custody of 
 two females, who stand on each side of him, and 
 press him into the service: if he be likely to prove 
 refractory, they begin to discipline him with their 
 trunks, till he is reduced to obedience, and suffers 
 himself to be led to a tree, where he is bound by the 
 le<r vvith stout thonsjs, made of untanned elk or buck 
 skin. The tame elephants are then led back to the 
 inclosure, and the others are made to submit in the 
 same manner. They are all suffered to remain fast 
 to the trees for several days. Attendants are placed 
 by the side of each animal, who supply him with 
 food by little and little, till he is brought by degrees 
 to be sensible of kindness and caresses, and allows 
 himself to be led to the stable. In the space of four- 
 teen days his absolute submission is completed. Dur- 
 ing that time, he is fed daily with cocoa-nut leaves, 
 and led once a day to the water by the tame ones. 
 He becomes accustomed to the voice of his keeper, 
 and at last quietly resigns his prodigious powers to 
 the dominion of man.
 
 120 NOTES. 
 
 P. 6 ; 1.6. Connective link to man's intelligence. 
 
 " We are now to treat of other living creatures, 
 and first of land beasts, among which the elephant is 
 the greatest, and cometh nearest in wit and capacity 
 to men, for they understand the language of that 
 country wherein they are bred; they do whatsoever 
 they are commanded, they remember what duties 
 they are taught, and withal take a pleasure and de- 
 light in love, and also in glory; nay more than all 
 this, they embrace goodness, honesty, prudence, and 
 equitv, (rare qualities, I must tell you, to be found 
 amongst men)." — Pliny's Nat. Hist. B. 8. Ch. 1, 
 
 P. 0, 1 15. A hungn/ elephant his food withheld. 
 
 To disappoint an elephant is dangerous, as he seldom 
 fails to be revenged. The following instance is recorded 
 as a fact : — " An elephant disappointed of its reward, 
 out of revenge killed its cornac, or governor. The 
 poor man's wife, who beheld the dreadful scene, took 
 her two infants, and threw them at the feet of the
 
 NOTES. 121 
 
 enraged animal, saying, ' Since you have slain my 
 husband, take my life also, as well as that of my 
 children/ The elephant instantly stopped, relented, 
 and as if stung with remorse, took the eldest boy in 
 its trunk, placed him on its back, adopted him for its 
 cornac, and would never allow any other person to 
 mount it." 
 
 Bruce also relates the following interesting in- 
 stance of the affection of the elephant. Vol. IV. p. 302. 
 
 There now remained but two elephants of those 
 that had been discovered, which were a she one with 
 her calf. The Asfa^eer would willingly have let 
 these alone, as the teeth of the female were only 
 small, and the young one is of no sort of value, even 
 for food, its flesh shrinking much upon drying. But 
 the hunters would not be limited in their sport. The 
 people having observed the place of her retreat thi- 
 ther we eagerly followed. She was very soon found, 
 and as soon lamed by the Agageers, but when they 
 came to wound her with the darts, as every one did 
 in their turn, to our very great surprize, the young 
 one, which had been suffered to escape unheeded
 
 122 NOTES. 
 
 and unpursued, came out from the thicket, appa- 
 rently in great anger, running upon the horses and 
 men with all the violence it was master of. I was 
 amazed; and, as much as ever I was on such an oc- 
 casion, afflicted at seeing the great affection of the 
 little animal defending its wounded mother, heedless 
 of its own life or safety. I therefore cried to them 
 for God's sake to spate the mother, though it was 
 then too late, and the calf had then made several 
 attacks upon me, which I avoided without difficulty; 
 but I am happy to this day in the reflection that I 
 did not strike it. 
 
 P. 1, 1.5. Some dreadful instance of such stern re- 
 venge. 
 
 At the Cape of Good Hope, it is customary to 
 kill the elephants for the sake of their teeth, by the 
 chace. Three horsemen, well mounted and armed 
 with lances, attack the elephant alternately, each re- 
 lieving the other as they see their companions pressed, 
 till the beast is subdued. Three Dutchmen, bro-
 
 NOTES. 123 
 
 tliers, who Lad made large fortunes by this business, 
 determined to retire to Europe and enjoy the fruits 
 of their labours; but resolved, before they went, to 
 have a last chase by the way of amusement : they 
 met with their game, and began to attack in the 
 usual manner; but unfortunately one of the horses 
 fell down and flunc; its rider: the enraged animal in- 
 stantly seized the unhappy man with its trunk, flung 
 him up to a vast height in the air, and received him 
 on one of his tusks. 
 
 P. 8, 1. 10. Have kindled towards some well-remem- 
 bered haunt. 
 
 It is evident from the savage of Aveyron's fre- 
 quent attempts to escape again to the woods, after 
 so much kindness and attention had been paid to 
 him, that he must have had some inducement to re- 
 turn to those woods, some favourite resort, or some 
 more grateful food or beverage which left on his 
 mind a strong degree of attachment. 
 
 This attachment of mankind to their native climate
 
 124 NOTES. 
 
 and habits however uncomfortable, and however 
 rude, is exemplified by so many striking instances, 
 as to render a selection difficult. To the inhabitants 
 of more genial regions, nothing can appear more re- 
 volting than the dreary wastes of snow, the nights 
 protracted through half a year, the train oil meals, 
 and the smoky caverns to which the forlorn Lap- 
 landers are doomed. Yet such are the attractions 
 which habit infuses into these miserable haunts, that 
 no Laplander is ever known to emigrate; or if any 
 one happens to be forcibly carried to more hospitable 
 regions, he immediately begins to languish, and ac- 
 tually dies of an incurable longing to revisit his na- 
 tive scenes. I need only recount the well-known 
 instance of the Hottentot, who, after having been 
 brought to Europe, and made accquainted with the 
 habits of civilized life; no sooner found himself again 
 at the Cape of Good Hope, than he took the first 
 opportunity to escape into the woods to his country- 
 men, and exchange his European finery for the en- 
 trails of sheep, with which that filthy race ornament 
 their persons,
 
 NOTES. 125 
 
 P. 8 J . 1 8. Land of Affection and heart-frit delight — 
 
 I never could read the interesting account of the 
 Pelew Islands without tears; nor can I resist to adorn 
 these pages with the following extracts from that 
 narrative, which so forcibly illustrate the power of 
 affection in a state of simplicity. 
 
 When Captain Wilson and his crew were about 
 to depart from the Islands,, after having experienced 
 from Abba Thulle and his people attentions that 
 would do honour to the most polished state: he in- 
 troduces his son Prince Lee Boo to Captain Wilson 
 in the following interesting manner. 
 
 " That he was henceforth to look upon Captain 
 Wilson as another father, and win his affection by 
 following his advice. Then addressing the Captain, 
 he said, — When Lee Boo got to England he would 
 have such fine things to see, that he might chance to 
 slip away from him to run after novelty; but that he 
 hoped the Captain would keep him as much as he 
 could under his eye, and endeavour to moderate the 
 eagerness of his youth."
 
 126" NOTES. 
 
 After further conversation relative to the confi- 
 dence reposed in Captain Wilson, Abba Thulle con- 
 cluded his recommendation in nearly these expres- 
 sions: — " I would wish you to inform Lee Boo of all 
 things which he ought to know, and make him an 
 Englishman. The subject of parting with my son 
 I have frequently revolved; I am well aware that the 
 distant countries he must pass through, differing 
 much from his own, may expose him to dangers, as 
 well as to diseases that are unknown to us here, in 
 consequence of which he may die: — I have prepared 
 my thoughts for this; I know that death is to all 
 men inevitable, and whether my son meets this event 
 at Pelew, or elsewhere, is immaterial. — I am satis- 
 fied, from what I have observed of the humanity of 
 your character, that if he be sick, you will be kind 
 to him; and should that happen, which your utmost 
 care cannot prevent, let it not hinder you, or your 
 brother, or your son, ov any of your countrymen, 
 returning here; I shall receive you, or any of your 
 people, in friendship, and rejoice to see you again." 
 
 At their departure, loaded as they were by Abba
 
 NOTKS. 127 
 
 Thulle's bounty, even to superfluity, with whatever 
 he conceived might be useful or pleasant to his de- 
 parting friends, yet on either side of the ship were a 
 multitude of canoes filled with the common natives, 
 who had all brought presents from themselves, in- 
 treating they might be accepted. It was in vain 
 that they were told that the vessel was so full there 
 was no room to receive any thing more, each held up 
 a little something, " Only this from me," — " Only 
 this from me," — was the general cry; the repetition 
 of which was urged with such supplicating counte- 
 nances, and watery eyes, that this bewitching testi- 
 mony of affection and generosity almost overcame 
 every one on board. From some of those who were 
 nearest a few yams or cocoa nuts were accepted; 
 and the poor creatures, whose intreaties could not be 
 attended to, unable to bear the disappointment, 
 paddled ahead, and threw the little presents they had 
 brought into the pinnace, totally ignorant that she 
 was to return back. 
 
 Abba Thulle accompanied the English in their 
 vessel almost to the reef. Seeing Captain Wilson
 
 l c 2S NOTES. 
 
 busied in giving directions to his people, he stopt till 
 he found him quite at liberty, and then went up to 
 him and embraced him with great tenderness, shew- 
 ing by his looks and voice how much he was dis- 
 tressed to bid him farewell ; he shook all the officers 
 by the hand in a most cordial manner, saying, " You 
 are happy because you are going home; — / am happy 
 to jind you are happy — but still very unhappy myself 
 to see you going aicay." — Then assuring our people 
 of his affectionate wishes for their successful voyage, 
 went over the side of the vessel into his canoe. 
 
 Most of the chiefs on board left them at the same 
 time, except Raa Rook, and when the moment of 
 separation arrived, he kcis so affected, that he was at 
 first unable to speak ; he took them cordially by the 
 hand, and pointing with the other to his heart, said, 
 " it teas there he felt the pain of bidding them fare- 
 well;" nor were there any on board who saw his 
 departure without sharing nearly the same distress. 
 Our countrymen might with truth say, they left a 
 zchole people in tears ; and so sensibly were they im- 
 pressed themselves by this interesting scene, that
 
 NOTES. 129 
 
 when Abba Thulle and his train returned back to 
 Oroolong they were hardly able to give him three 
 cheers. 
 
 The happiness of his people seemed to be always 
 in Abba Thulle's thoughts; and had his lot. been 
 thrown to rule over a great nation connected with 
 mankind, his talents and his natural disposition might 
 have made him the Peter of the southern world! 
 
 P. 9, 1. 4. Hate numbered o'er the knots — the note of 
 time 
 Allow' d to absence — 
 
 rf The evening before the Oroolong sailed, the king 
 asked Captain Wilson how long it might be before 
 his return to Pclevvr and being told, that it would 
 probably be about thirty moons, or might chance to 
 extend to six more, Abba Thulle drew from his basket 
 a piece of line, and, after making thirty knots on it, 
 a little distance from each other, left a long space, 
 and then adding six others, carefully put it by. 
 
 As the slow but sure steps of time have been 
 
 K
 
 130 NOTES. 
 
 moving onward, the reader's imagination will figure 
 the anxious parent, resorting to this cherished re- 
 membrancer, and with joy untying the earlier records 
 of each elapsing period ; — as he sees him advancing 
 on his line, he will conceive the joy redoubled ; — 
 and when nearly approaching to the thirtieth knot, 
 almost accusing the planet of the night for passing 
 so tardily away. 
 
 When verging towards the termination of his 
 latest reckoning, he will then picture his mind, glow- 
 ing with parental affection, occasionally alarmed by 
 doubt, yet still buoyed up by hope; he will fancy 
 him pacing inquisitively the sea-shore, and often 
 commanding his people to ascend every rocky height, 
 and glance their eyes along the level line of the ho- 
 rizon which bounds the surrounding ocean, to see if 
 haply it might not in some part be broken by the 
 distant appearance of a returning sail. 
 
 Lastly, he will view the good x'YbbaThulle, wearied 
 out by that expectation which so many returning 
 moons since his reckoning ceased, have by this time 
 taught him he had nourished in vain. But the reader
 
 ISTOTES. 131 
 
 will bring hiin back to his remembrance, as armed 
 with that unshaken fortitude that was equal to the 
 trials of varying life. He will not in him, as in less 
 manly spirits, see the passions rushing into opposite 
 extremes — Hope turned to Despair — Affection con- 
 verted to Hatred. — No— After some allowance for 
 their natural fermentation, he will suppose them all 
 placidly subsiding into the calm of resignation ! 
 
 Should this not be absolutely the case of our 
 friendly king — as the human mind is far more pained 
 by uncertainty than a knowledge of the worst — every 
 reader will lament, he should to this moment remain 
 ignorant, that his lon»; looked for son can return no 
 more. 
 
 At Rome the life of one citizen saved, gave a claim 
 to the civic wreath. — At Pelew, so many of our coun- 
 tivmen rescued from distress, and, by Abba Thulle's 
 protection and benevolence, not only saved from in- 
 evitable destruction, but enabled to return in safety 
 to their families and friends, hath a still stronger 
 claim to a wreath from British Gratitude!
 
 132 NOTES. 
 
 P. 9; 1- 19- To Jamba's plains and her unculturd 
 sports. 
 
 " Arriving at Jumbo, the native town of a black- 
 smith in his retinue, he was met by a number of 
 people from the town, all of whom demonstrated great 
 joy at seeing their old acquaintance the blacksmith, 
 by the most extravagant jumping and singing. 
 
 The meeting between him and his relations was 
 very tender, for these rude children of nature, free 
 from restraint, display their emotions in the strongest 
 and most expressive manner. Amidst these trans- 
 ports the blacksmith's aged mother was led forth, 
 leaning upon a staff. Every one made way for her, 
 and she stretched out her hand to bid her son wel- 
 come. Being totally blind, she stroked his hands, 
 arms, and face, with great care, and seemed highly 
 delighted that her latter days were blessed by his re- 
 turn, and that her ears once more heard the music of 
 his voice. From this interview 1 was fully convinced 
 that whatever difference there is between the nearo 
 and the European in the conformation of the nose,
 
 NOTES. 133 
 
 and the colour of the skin, there is none in the ge- 
 nuine sympathies and characteristic features of our 
 common nature." — Park's Travels, p. 1 L 2<2, 8vo, ed. 
 
 P. 11, 1. 10. Who but can heave the deeply painful 
 sigh — 
 
 And with what unaffected simplicity and true feel- 
 ing does Gifford, (the elegant translator of Juvenal) 
 in the preface to that work, describe his sensations 
 on the loss of a benefactor and friend ! 
 
 " I began this unadorned narrative (of his own 
 Life) on the 15th of Jan. 1801 ;— twenty years have 
 elapsed since I lost my benefactor and friend. In 
 the interval I have wept a thousand times at the re- 
 collection of his goodness: I yet cherish his memory 
 with filial respect; and at this distant period my 
 heart sinks within me at every repetition of his name." 
 
 P. 11, 1. 11. O'er the sad relics of a friend entomb'd. 
 
 " In China the descendants from a common stock 
 visit the tombs of their forefathers together, at stated
 
 134 NOTES. 
 
 times. This joint care, and indeed other occasions, 
 collect and unite the most remote relations. They 
 cannot lose sight of each other; and seldom become 
 indifferent to their respective concerns. The child 
 is bound to labour and to provide for his parents' 
 maintenance and comfort, and the brother for the 
 brother and sister that are in extreme want; the fai- 
 lure of which duty would be followed by such detes- 
 tation, that it is not necessary to enforce it b} r posi- 
 tive law. Even the most distant kinsman, reduced 
 to misery by accident or ill health, has a claim on his 
 kindred for relief. Manners stronger far than laws, 
 and indeed inclination, produced and nurtured by in- 
 tercourse and intimacy, secure assistance for him. 
 These habits and manners fully explain the fact which 
 unhappily appears extraordinary to Europeans, that 
 no spectacles of distress are seen to excite the com- 
 passion, and implore the casual charity of indivi- 
 duals. " — Macartney's Embassy, vol. ii, p. 108. 
 
 A similar habit of visiting the graves of deceased 
 relatives prevails also in some parts of Wales.
 
 NOTES. 135 
 
 P. 11, 1. 12. Thus pensive Petrarch mourn* d his Lau- 
 ra' s fate. 
 
 The death of Laura appears to have had so 
 durable an effect on the mind of Petrarch, as to give 
 a strong shade of pensiveness to his character; he is 
 said to have composed upwards of 300 Sonnets to 
 Love and Laura. It is beyond contradiction that 
 their attachment was of a pure kind— a true conge- 
 niality of mind and disposition; and however it may 
 be alleged that Platonic affections are dangerous 
 experiments on virtue, it must be admitted that they 
 have existed with the strictest propriety and purity 
 of conduct; strict principles of morality and religion 
 are necessary foundations of such attachments. 
 
 " I bless the happy moment," says Petrarch, 
 <c that directed my heart to Laura. She led me to 
 see the path of virtue, to detach my heart from base 
 and groveling objects: from her I am inspired with 
 that celestial flame which raises my soul to heaven, 
 and directs it to the supreme cause, as the only source 
 of happiness."
 
 136 NOTES. 
 
 The affectionate tenderness that subsisted between 
 Cowper and his Mary, might also be adduced: — to 
 this the author could add another instance that sub- 
 sisted with the strictest purity of conduct till death. 
 
 P. 11, 1.19. Say zcliat affection jilts the patriot's 
 
 breast. 
 
 How sweetly and how forcibly hath Scott, in his 
 Lay of the last Minstrel, described patriotic at- 
 tachment. 
 
 I. 
 
 Breathes there a man, with soul so dead, 
 Who never to himself hath said, 
 
 This is my own, my native land ! 
 Whose heart has ne'er within him burn'd. 
 As home his footsteps he hath turn'd 
 
 From wandering on a foreign strand! 
 If such there breathe, go mark him wellj 
 For him no minstrel raptures swell; 
 High though his titles, proud his name, 
 Boundless his wealth as wish can claim; 
 Despite those titles, power, and pelf, 
 The wretch concenter'd all in self,
 
 NOTES. 137 
 
 Living shall forfeit fair renown, 
 
 And doubly dying shall go down 
 
 To the vile dust, from whence he sprung 
 
 Unwept, unhonour'd, and unsung. 
 
 II. 
 
 O Caledonia! stern and wild, 
 
 Meet nurse for a poetic child ! 
 
 Land of brown heath and shaggy wood, 
 
 Land of the mountain and the flood, 
 
 Land of my sires ! what mortal hand 
 
 Can e'er untie the filial band 
 
 That knits me to thy rugged strand? 
 
 Still as I view each well known scene, 
 
 Think what is now, and what has been, 
 
 Seems as to me of all bereft, 
 
 Sole friends thy woods and streams were left ; 
 
 And thus I love them better still, 
 
 Even in the extremity of ill. 
 
 P. 12, 1.8. Thy country owns the boon thy courage 
 sought. 
 
 Britons may yet congratulate each other that they 
 are not like the fallen kingdoms of Europe, pros- 
 trated by treachery or conquest at the foot of a mi- 
 litary despotism, more dreadful than has for ages
 
 138 NOTES. 
 
 past tyrannized over mankind. Butwhilst they triumph 
 in the fact, may they cherish with gratitude the re- 
 membrance that they owe it, under a directing Pro- 
 vidence, to the wisdom and bravery of their ancestors, 
 who have interwoven into the fabric of the British 
 constitution principles of true liberty and equal laws, 
 which, when endangered, are most valued, and ral- 
 lied around with the ardour that they demand. 
 
 P. 13, 1. 12. .Helvetia! at thy fate my bosom burns. 
 
 Who that recollects the noble struggles of the brave 
 Swiss for the preservation of their liberties, and the 
 happy simplicity of manners that prevailed among 
 them, the consequence of their freedom, as delineated 
 by the animated pen of Rousseau, and confirmed by 
 modern travellers, but must lift the sigh of regret 
 at their present degraded situation under the tyranny 
 of Napoleon Buonaparte ? 
 
 " I could have spent the whole time in contem- 
 plating these magnificent landscapes, if I had not 
 found still greater pleasure in the conversation of its
 
 NOTES. 139 
 
 inhabitants. In my observations you will find a slight 
 sketch of their manners, their simplicity, their equa- 
 lity of soul, and of that pcacefulness of mind which 
 renders them happy by an exemption from pain, 
 rather than by the enjoyment of pleasure. But what 
 I was unable to describe, and which is almost impos- 
 sible to be conceived, is their disinterested humanity 
 and hospitable zeal to oblige every stranger whom 
 chance or curiosity bring to visit them." — Rousseau. 
 
 t( Happy people, the nature of whose country, 
 and the constitution of whose government, both 
 equally oppose the strongest barriers against the in- 
 troduction of luxury. 
 
 <e Nothing delights me so much as the inside of a 
 Swiss cottage: all those I have hitherto visited con- 
 vey the liveliest image of cleanliness, ease, and sim- 
 plicity; and cannot but strongly impress upon the 
 observer a most pleasing conviction of the peasant's 
 happiness. 
 
 " If that sort of government be confessedly the best 
 which constitutes the greatest good of the greatest 
 number in the communitv, these little states, not-
 
 140 NOTES. 
 
 withstanding the natural defects of a democratical 
 constitution } may justly claim a large share of our 
 approbation. General liberty, general independence, 
 and an exemption from arbitrary taxes, are blessings 
 which amply compensate for a want of those refine- 
 ments that are introduced by opulence and luxury. 
 
 " Such perfect ease and plenty reign throughout 
 these mountains, that I scarcely saw one object of 
 poverty: the natural effects of industry under a mild 
 and equitable government." — Coxe's Travels in 
 Switzerland. 
 
 Montgomery, in his e< Wanderer of Switzerland,' 
 has well described their present degraded state. 
 
 "Aye — 'twas Switzerland of yore; 
 But, degraded spot of earth ! 
 Thou art Switzerland no more. 
 
 O'er thy mountains, sunk in blood, 
 Are the waves of ruin hurl'd; 
 Like the waters of the flood, 
 Rolling round a buried world."
 
 NOTES. 141 
 
 P. 14, 1.3. That thus he bade the minions of his 
 
 power. 
 
 Had the government of Fiance listened to the 
 voice of her philosophers, corrected her abuses, hus- 
 banded her finances, and by degrees infused freedom 
 into her laws, Europe would not now have groaned 
 beneath the desolations and tyrannies of Napoleon 
 Buonaparte. Dark and awful is the night with which 
 she is threatened; the mere philosopher can only 
 brood over her fate with terror; it is the peculiar 
 privilege of the Christian, that he can repose with 
 confidence in the reflexion, that the God who rides 
 on the whirlwind, directs the storm. 
 
 P. 14, 1. If). There strew a varied and a plenteous 
 store. 
 
 This is an experiment which has been tried with 
 great success, and might be repeated in almost every 
 country place that affords sufficient retirement.
 
 142 NOTES. 
 
 Dr. Lcttsom observes, in a Letter dated Grove- 
 hill, Dec. 9, 1801: 
 
 " I am, as an individual, so well satisfied with the 
 visits of the leathered tribe on my premises in the 
 vicinity of London, as not only to discourage their 
 destruction, but in severe weather, of frost or snow, 
 to sprinkle corn in the walks for their preservation ; 
 and it might be suggested, from the numbers and 
 varieties that frequent these premises, that they pos- 
 sess some medium of conveying to each other a sense 
 of the security they enjoy. Some, indeed, that are 
 rare in these parts of England, I frequently meet 
 with. "Without much water I have the king's fisher. 
 The diminutive and beautiful golden-headed wren is 
 my denizen ; the jay enlivens the trees, and creepers 
 and wood-peckers climb their trunks." 
 
 P. 1.3, 1. 13. With the rich purchase of her Nelson's life. 
 
 Who ever fell so regretted as Lord Nelson, though 
 in the arms of victory? Britain looked up to him as 
 her shield against a tyrannic and vindictive conqueror, 
 who had long threatened to desolate her shores, and
 
 XOTES. 143 
 
 steep her fields in blood ; and who only desired to be 
 able to conquer her on the ocean, that he might in- 
 vade her with success, and pour in his innumerable 
 armies, regardless how many would be sacrificed in 
 the attempt. With this view he had concentrated 
 the forces of France and Spain ; and had they been 
 successful, Britain would have had to defend herself 
 upon her own shores, and with the price of much of 
 her best blood. At this moment it pleased Provi- 
 dence to srive to the undaunted mind of Nelson an 
 opportunity of engaging the enemy; the consequences 
 I need not tell, they are too deeply engraven on the 
 memory of Britons, and are felt wherever Britain's 
 name is known. Nor let the following instance of 
 the affection of British tars to the remains of the hero 
 who had in so many instances led them on to victory, 
 be forgotten. 
 
 " It was certainly the intention of Lord Colling- 
 wood to have sent the body of Lord Nelson home in 
 the Euryalus, until a very strong reluctance was ma- 
 nifested by the crew of the Victory to part with so 
 precious a relict, to which they felt almost an exclu- 
 sive claim : thev remonstrated through one of their
 
 144 NOTES. 
 
 boatswain's mates against the removal, upon a ground 
 that could not be resisted : — he said, " the Noble Ad- 
 miral had fought with them, and fell on their own 
 deck; that if, by being put on board a frigate, his 
 body should fall into the hands of the enemy, it would 
 make their loss doubly grievous to them; and, there- 
 fore, that they were one and all resolved to carry it 
 safely to England, or go to the bottom along with it 
 themselves!" 
 
 It is said of Lord Nelson, that the fire of battle was 
 his native element. Commanders of the most un- 
 daunted courage have acknowledged, that at the com- 
 mencement of an action they have generally expe- 
 rienced sensations of an awful nature till the conflict 
 had begun. But Lord Nelson never appeared more 
 collected, more eager, or more elated, than in the 
 preparation for and commencement of an action. ]. 
 have this anecdote from the mouth of a nobleman 
 under whom Nelson was trained, and who has him- 
 self received the rewards of a grateful country for 
 distinguished naval services. 
 
 " How are the mighty fallen !" When we con- 
 template the death of an Abercrombie— a Nelson — a
 
 NOTES. 145 
 
 Pitt — a Thurlovv — a Fox — great public characters, 
 which the Author of existence has called into eternity 
 at the moment when our country most seemed to 
 want their exertions in time, how imperiously are we 
 taught to repose alone in the living God ; and re- 
 splendent as is every page of our naval history, the 
 achievements of Nelson have eclipsed all former 
 brightness. Yet he, conscious that the battle is not 
 always to the strong, never proceeded to action with- 
 out imploring protection and victory from the Al- 
 mighty; and never terminated a conflict without a 
 public service of grateful adoration. 
 
 P. 17, 1. 18. And crimes like these, must hasten thy 
 decay. 
 
 That national crimes are followed by national 
 punishments, is a truth which the voice of prophecy, 
 and the page of history, fully prove. He is the 
 true patriot who exerts himself to promote the pub- 
 lic virtue of his country, and who directs his powers 
 to deplore and check her vices. With what satis- 
 
 L
 
 140 NOTES. 
 
 faction and gratitude therefore ought we to view the 
 act that has abolished Negro Slavery, which has been 
 one of those national enormities that have rendered 
 us liable to the wrath of the Almighty; may we ven- 
 ture to contemplate it as the dawn of a blighter day 
 for Britain— may it be the commencement of those 
 ameliorations which are yet required, and which 
 effected by the legislature in a gradual way cannot 
 be attended with the convulsions which have sub- 
 verted a neighbouring country. 
 
 P. IS, 1. \3. Of Britain's danger to protect her cause. 
 
 When the dreadful consequences of the present 
 system of impressing seamen are considered, to many 
 of which 1 have been a witness, in the dispersion 
 and ruin of their families, it is much to be lamented 
 that some system of enrolment is not tried, and an 
 annual income allowed, that sailors might be always 
 at hand when wanted ; on this plan their families 
 would be arranged accordingly, and a vast amount 
 of crime and misery prevented.
 
 NOTES. 147 
 
 P. 19 3 1. 10. The peerless monarch of Britannia's realm. 
 
 It is to be regretted that we are not furnished 
 with more authentic accounts of the life and actions 
 of our immortal Alfred — a man to whom England 
 owes, under God, her present dignified situation 
 among nations; such monarchs are blessings to the 
 land over which they rule: had the victorious em- 
 peror of a neighbouring nation been actuated by 
 similar principles, how might he have diffused hap- 
 piness around a smiling world, instead of marking his 
 path with desolation, and handing down his me- 
 mory in detestation to posterity. 
 
 P. 120, 1. 1. But call not by Affection's sacred name. 
 
 Benevolence to the whole species, and want of 
 feeling for every individual with whom the profes- 
 sors come into contact, form the character of the 
 new philosophy. Burke. 
 
 What has this cold philosophy to offer in com- 
 petition with the gratifying emotions of Affection ? 
 Nothing. The lovely charities of life are so exten- 
 sively diffused through creation as to load every mo-
 
 148 NOTES. 
 
 merit with blessings; and although no one pays 
 greater respcet to high talent, and exalted worth 
 than I do, yet had it been my destiny to be tra- 
 versing the ocean with one of my children, and 
 George Washington a fellow-passenger, a name that 
 1 revere, and overtaken by shipwreck, I had the 
 power to save one only of the crew, in spite of mo- 
 dern philosophy, I would have clasped my child to 
 my bosom, though I had left a Washington to 
 perish. 
 
 P. 22, 1. 5. The nightly tribute of a falling tear. 
 
 In the church-yard of the rural village of Lee, in 
 Kent, a handsome monument was erected in 1794, 
 to the Right Hon. Charles Trevor Roper, Baron 
 Dacre, by his widow, " as a testimonial of their dis- 
 tinguished unclouded union for upwards of twenty- 
 one years; their unexampled happiness, and of the 
 unbounded confidence in which they lived :" the 
 monument itself is kept uncommonly clean, the 
 ground about it is neatly gravelled, and his widow, 
 the present Lady Dacre, in all weathers pays her 
 evening visit to the tomb.
 
 NOTES. 149 
 
 P. 22. 1. 8. Spare, spar? yon ancient cross, — 
 
 This refers to the beautiful cross near Waltham 
 Abbey, erected to the memory of Eleanor of Castile, 
 first wife of Edward I, who accompanied him when 
 Prince of Wales, in the crusade to the Holy Land. 
 During the campaign the prince was attacked and 
 wounded in his tent by a Saracen with a poisoned 
 weapon. The poison was so potent as to baffle the 
 abilities of his physicians, and he was deemed incur- 
 able. At this awful period his amiable consort, 
 anxious to save the life of a husband without whom 
 existence to her was of no value, formed the magna- 
 nimous resolution of risking her health and life to 
 preserve his. She therefore applied her delicate lips 
 to the rankling wound, and never ceased night nor 
 day at stated times, in performing her benevolent 
 office, till she had extracted the poison and restored 
 • he prince to his accustomed health. 
 
 After being a faithful wife for thirty-six years to 
 king Edward, she deceased at Herby, in Lincolnshire,
 
 150 NOTES. 
 
 Nov. 29, 1290, and the king, so ardent was his affec- 
 tion for her memory , erected to her honour crosses 
 and statues, at Lincoln, Grantham, Stamford, Ged- 
 dington, Northampton, Stoney Stratford, Dunstable, 
 St. Albans, JValtham, and Charing Cross. — Anti- 
 ouities of England and Wales. 
 
 The strong power of conjugal affection has often 
 manifested itself in the female sex, not only by those 
 acts of tenderness which peculiarly belong to them, 
 but aho in a fortitude which places them on a level 
 with heroes. At that dreadful period, when Rome, 
 once so free and heroic, fell under the rod of the 
 most cruel despots, virtue became a crime in that 
 city where it had once been so highly honoured. 
 The most distinguished citizens became the earliest 
 victims ; and it was only by a voluntary death, that 
 the accused, however innocent, were allowed to save 
 their fortunes from confiscation, and their families 
 from ruin. Among others who fell under a false 
 accusation was Circina Partus, a man eminent for 
 his rank, his philosophy, and his virtue, lie knew
 
 NOTES. 1.51 
 
 that condemnation was inevitable where innocence 
 formed no protection; and he resolved by a volun- 
 tary death to make a last sacrifice for his children. 
 But the thoughts of leaving his Arria, his beautiful 
 and beloved wife, in the hands of his inhuman mur- 
 derers, seemed to perplex his soul, and give real bit- 
 terness to death. Am a, perceiving his emotions, 
 and determined to remove his apprehensions, first 
 stabbed herself, and then presenting to him the 
 dagger, said with a smile, ec My Psetus, it gives no 
 pain." 
 
 The lines of Martial on this subject have been 
 much celebrated : 
 
 When Arria from her bleeding bosom drew, 
 And to her Paetus gave the reeking blade ; 
 " This gives no pain," the smiling beauty cried, 
 " I only feel the wound which thou shalt give." 
 
 P. 23, 1. 4. And with a joy, to mothers only known. 
 
 Alonzo. The little daring urchin robs me, 1 doubt, 
 of some portion of thy love, my Cora. At least
 
 152 NOTES. 
 
 he shares caresses which till his birth were only 
 mine. 
 
 Cora. Oh no, Alonzo! a mother's love for her 
 dear babe is not a stealth, or taken from the father's 
 store; it is a new delight that turns with quickened 
 gratitude to him, the author of her augmented bliss. 
 
 AL Could Cora think me serious? 
 
 Cora. I am sure he will speak soon; then will be 
 the last of the three holidays allowed by Nature's 
 sanction to the fond anxious mother's heart. 
 
 Al. What are those three? 
 Cora. The ecstasy of his birth I will pass; that in 
 part is selfish: but when first the white blossoms of 
 his teeth appear, breaking the crimson buds that did 
 incase them; that is a day of joy: next when from 
 his father's arms he runs without support, and elings 
 laughing and delighted to his mother's knee; that is 
 the mother's heart's next holiday: and sweeter still 
 the third, whenever his little stammering tongue shall 
 utter the grateful sound of, Father, Mother! — O! 
 that is the dearest joy of all !
 
 NOTES. 153 
 
 P. 24, 1. 2. How many heroes that adorn her pave. 
 
 " The mother of king Alfred observing him one 
 day greatly delighted with a little book of Saxon 
 poems, beautifully adorned with capital letters in 
 gold and various colours, said, in the hearing of 
 all her sons, that she would give the book to him 
 who should first learn it by heart. — Alfred applied 
 himself so seriously to the business, that he never 
 left it till he could read and repeat it to his mo- 
 ther." — Bicknell's Life of Alfred. 
 
 P. 24, 1. 3. How many minds intent on human weal. 
 
 The care of the education of her son (the late 
 Sir William Jones) devolved upon his mother, who, 
 in many respects, was eminently qualified for the 
 task. Her character, as delineated by her husband 
 with somewhat of mathematical precision, is this : 
 " that she was virtuous without blemish, generous 
 without extravagance, frugal but not niggard, cheer-
 
 154 NOTES. 
 
 ful but not giddy, close but not sullen, ingenious 
 but not conceited, of spirit but not passionate, of her 
 company cautious, in her friendship trusty, to her 
 parents dutiful, and to her husband ever faithful, 
 loving, and obedient." — She had by nature a strong 
 understanding, which was improved by conversation 
 and instruction. Under his tuition she became a 
 considerable proficient in Algebra, and with a view 
 to qualify herself for the office of preceptor to her 
 sister's son, who was destined to a maritime profes- 
 sion, made herself perfect in trigonometry and the 
 theory of navigation. Mrs. Jones, after the death of 
 her husband, was urgently and repeatedly solicited 
 by the countess of Macclesfield to remain at Sher- 
 borne Castle; but having formed a plan for the edu- 
 cation of her son with an unalterable determination 
 to pursue it, and being apprehensive that her resi- 
 dence at Sherborne might interfere with the execu- 
 tion of it, she declined accepting the friendly invi- 
 tation of the countess, who never ceased to entertain 
 the most affectionate regard for her. 
 
 In the plan adopted by Mrs. Jones for the in-
 
 NOTES. 155 
 
 struction of her son, she proposed to reject the 
 severity of discipline, and to lead his mind insensibly 
 to knowledge and exertion, by exciting his curiosity 
 and directing it to useful objects. To his incessant 
 importunities for information on casual topics of 
 conversation, which she watchfully stimulated, she 
 constantly replied, <c read and you zcill know ;" a 
 maxim, to the observance of which he always acknow- 
 ledged himself indebted for his future attainments. 
 By this method his desire to learn became as eager as 
 her wish to teach; and such was her talent of in- 
 struction, and his facility of retaining it, that in his 
 fourth year he was able to read, distinctly and ra- 
 pidly, any English book. She particularly attended, 
 at the same time, to the cultivation of his memory, 
 by making him learn and repeat some of the popular 
 speeches in Shakespeare, and the best of Gay's Fables. 
 Thus nurtured and matured, what wonder that the 
 fruit became so estimable! The following is a short 
 extract from his character, as delineated by the Bi- 
 shop of Cloyne, in a Letter to the .Dean of St. Asaph, 
 dated Nov. 1 79?-
 
 156 NOTES. 
 
 " In «i word, I can only say of this amiable and 
 wonderful man, that he had more virtues, and less 
 faults, than I ever saw in any human being: and 
 that the goodness of his head, admirable as it was, 
 was exceeded by that of his heart. 1 have never 
 ceased to admire him from the moment I first saw 
 him; and my esteem for his great qualities, and re- 
 gret for his loss, will only end with my life.' 1 
 
 " Sir Isaac Newton's father dying when he was 
 verv young, his mother being a woman of good sense 
 and of an ancient family, did not neglect to take a 
 becoming care of her son's education." — Biog. 
 Brit. 1770. 
 
 P. 24, 1.8. Nursed the young plant to vigour and 
 to fame. 
 
 The fear of God, the thoughts of death, the love 
 of virtue, and those principles of religion, which were 
 inculcated by his mother, preserved Petrarch from 
 the surrounding temptations of his earlier life." — 
 Dobson's Life of Petrarch.
 
 XOTES. 157 
 
 P. 24, 1. 9. Bright gem of sorrow, blest maternal tear. 
 
 " As we crossed the church-yard to return to the 
 inn, we were stopped by the appearance of an inte- 
 resting young woman, who, with much grief in her 
 countenance, was scattering slips of lilac, and half- 
 blown tulips, and fine sand, from a little basket 
 which she held in her hand, upon a fresh grave, 
 which, from its size, and from her looks, I conjec- 
 tured to be that of her little infant. It was the cus- 
 tom of the country ; and a very affecting one it 
 was."— Carr's Northern Summer, Page 38. 
 
 P. 21, 1.20. But more of one nhose amity is fame. 
 
 I refer to the beautiful and highly cultivated 
 scenery of the Vale of Miekleham, and Richard 
 Sharp. E<q. M. P. who has a cottage there; a man 
 whom T am proud to call friend. — Were all our sena- 
 tors like him, Britain might rejoice, " I know him 
 well, Horatio."
 
 158 NOTES, 
 
 P. 0,5, 1.10. Injured Matilda — Denmark's murder d. 
 Queen. 
 
 At three o'clock a dead silence reigned through- 
 out the palace, the conspirators, with several guards, 
 passed over the bridge over the canal, and surrounded 
 the avenues. Juliana, Prince Frederick, and Ran- 
 zau, went to the door of the King's apartment, which 
 at first the fidelity of a page in waiting refused to 
 unlock; they terrified the monarch by their represen- 
 tations of an impending plot, and thrust into his hand 
 for signature the orders for seizing the Queen, 
 Struenzee, and Brandt. Upon seeing the name of 
 Matilda upon the order, love and reason for a mo- 
 ment took possession of the King's mind, and he 
 threw the paper from him; but upon being ardently 
 pressed he signed it, put his head upon his pillow, 
 pulled the bed-clothes over him., and in a short time 
 forgot what he had done. Koller proceeded to 
 Struenzee's room, and being a powerful man, seized 
 the latter by the throat, and with some assistance 
 sent him and Brandt in a close carriage, strongly
 
 NOTES. 159 
 
 guarded, to the citadel. Ranzau and Colonel Eick- 
 stadt opened the door of the Queen's chamber, and 
 awoke her from a profound sleep to unexpected 
 horror. These savage intruders are said, upon her 
 resisting, to have struck her: the indecency and in- 
 dignity of the scene can scarcely be imagined. After 
 the Queen had hurried on her clothes she was forced 
 into a carriage, attended by a squadron of dragoons, 
 and sent ofY to the fortress of Cronberg; upon her 
 arrival she was supported to her bed-chamber, a 
 cold, damp, stone room: upon observing the bed 
 she exclaimed, "Take me away! take me away! 
 rest is not for the miserable, there is no rest for me." 
 After some violent convulsions of nature, tears came 
 to her relief. " Thank God," said the wretched 
 Queen, " for this blessing, my enemies cannot rob 
 me of it." Upon hearing the voice of her infant, the 
 Princess Louisa, (who had been sent after her in an- 
 other carriage) she pressed her to her bosom, kissed 
 her with the most impassioned affection, and bathed 
 her in her tears. "Ah! art thou here," kaid she, 
 "poor unfortunate innocent ? This is indeed some
 
 160 NOTES. 
 
 balm to thy wretched mother." In the capital a 
 scene of terror, tumult, and forced festivity followed : 
 at twelve o'clock the next day Juliana and her son 
 paraded the King in his state coach, arrayed in his 
 regalia, through the principal streets, but only here 
 and there a solitary shout of joy was heard. For 
 three days the imprisoned Queen refused to take any 
 food, and 
 
 " Three times she crossed the shape of sleepless night." 
 
 It is said that the King never once inquired for her, 
 and now became the sole property of the infamous 
 Juliana, who guarded her treasure with the eye of a 
 basilisk. The court of Great Britain made a mild 
 but firm communication upon the subject of the per- 
 sonal safety of the Queen: nine commissioners were 
 appointed to examine the prisoners; the following 
 were the principal charges against Struenzee. 
 
 1. A horrid design against the life of his sacred 
 majesty. 
 
 2. An attempt to oblige the King to resign the 
 crown.
 
 NOTES. 16] 
 
 3. A criminal connexion with the Queen. 
 
 4. The improper manner in which he educated 
 the Prince Royal. 
 
 5. The great power and decisive influence he had 
 acquired in the government of the state. 
 
 6. The manner in which he used this power and 
 influence in the administration of affairs. 
 
 Amongst the charges preferred against the Count 
 Brandt ^ was the following ridiculous one: 
 
 ec While the King was playing in his usual manner 
 with Count Brandt, ihe Count bit his Majesty's 
 finger." 
 
 Four commissioners proceeded to examine the 
 Queen, who, with the wretched Constance, might 
 have exclaimed : 
 
 " Here I and sorrow sit; 
 Here is my throne, let Kings come bow r to it." 
 
 Her answers were pointed, luminous, and digni- 
 fied : she denied most solemnly any criminal inter- 
 course with Struensce. S , a counsellor of state, 
 
 abruptly informed the Queen, that Struensce has al- 
 
 M
 
 ]6 C 2 :n'otes. 
 
 ready signed a confession, in the highest degree 
 disgraceful to the honour and dignity of her Ma- 
 jesty. " Impossible !" exclaimed the astonished 
 Queen; <c Struensee never could have made such a 
 confession: and if he did, I here call heaven to wit- 
 ness that what he said was false." The artful S 
 
 played off a masterpiece of subtilty, which would 
 have done honour to a demon : " Well then," said 
 he, " as your Majesty has protested against the truth 
 of his confession, he deserves to die for having so 
 traitorously defiled the sacred character of the Queen 
 of Denmark." This remark struck the wretched Prin- 
 cess senseless in her chair: after a terrible conflict 
 between honour and humanity, pale and trembling, 
 in a faultering voice, she said, " And if I confess 
 what Struensee has said to be true, may he hope for 
 mercy?" which words she pronounced with the most 
 affecting voice, and with all the captivations of youth, 
 
 beauty, and majesty in distress. S nodded, as 
 
 if to assure her of Struensee's safety upon these terms, 
 and immediately drew up her confession to that ef- 
 fect, and put it into her hand to sign. Her whole frame
 
 NOTES. 163 
 
 seemed agitated with the most violent emotions: she 
 took up the pen and began to write her name, and 
 proceeded as far as Carol — ; when, perceiving the ma- 
 licious joy which sparkled in the eyes of S , she 
 
 became convinced that the whole was a base stra- 
 tagem, and throwing away the pen, she exclaimed, 
 ' f I am deceived; Struensee never accused me, I 
 know him too well; he never could have been guilty 
 of so great a crime." She endeavoured to rise, but 
 her strength failed her; she sunk down, fainted, and 
 fell back into her chair. In this state, the barbarous 
 
 and audacious S put the pen between her fingers, 
 
 which he held and guided, and before the unfortu- 
 nate Princess could recover, the letters— ina Matilda, 
 were added. The commissioners immediately de- 
 parted; and left her alone: upon her recovering and 
 rinding them gone, she conjectured the full horror of 
 her situation. 
 
 To afford some colouring to the mock trial which 
 followed, the advocate Uhldal was appointed her de- 
 fender: his speech on behalf of the Queen was in 
 the highest degree able, pathetic, and convincing.
 
 l6'-4 NOTES, 
 
 L hldal discharged such duties as in a few years after- 
 wards devolved upon the eloquent Malslierbes, and 
 with equal effect: the illustrious clients of both were 
 pre -judged : it was the show of justice, not to inves- 
 tigate, but to give a spurious eclat to their fate. 
 How opposite was this tribunal to that which She- 
 ridan, in a blaze of eloquence, apostrophized upon 
 the trial of Y\ arren Hastings, Esq. From such (C a 
 base caricature of justice," exclaimed the orator, " I 
 turn my eyes with horror. [ turn them here to this 
 dignified and high tribunal, where the mnjest} 7 of 
 real justice sits enthroned. Here I perceive her in 
 her proper robes of truth and mercy, chaste and 
 simple, accessible and patient, awful without severity, 
 inquisitive without meanness; her loveliest attribute 
 appears in stooping to raise the oppressed, and to 
 bind up the wounds of the afflicted." 
 
 The grand tribunal divorced the Queen, and se- 
 parated her for ever from the King, and proposed to 
 blemish the birth of the Princess Louisa by their 
 decree, and reduce the little innocent to that orphan- 
 age " which springs not front the grave, that fall*
 
 :n t otes. 165 
 
 not from the hand of Providence, or the stroke of 
 death :" but the cruel design was never executed. 
 Uhldal also exerted all the powers of his eloquence 
 for the two unfortunate Counts. Humanity revolts 
 at their sentence, which the unhappy King, it is said, 
 signed with thoughtless gaiety: they had been con- 
 fined from the 17th of January, and on the 28th of 
 March, at eleven o'clock, were drawn out to execu- 
 tion in two separate carriages, in a field near the east 
 gate of the town. Brandt ascended the scaffold first, 
 and displayed the most undaunted intrepidity. After 
 his sentence was read, and his coat of arms torn, he 
 calmly prayed a few minutes, and then spoke with 
 great mildness to the people. I pon the executioner 
 endeavouring to assist him in taking oil* his pelisse, 
 !;e said, "' Stand oil", do not presume to touch me ;'' 
 he then stretched out his hand, which, without 
 shrinking from the blow, was struck off; and almost 
 at the same moment his head was severed from his 
 body. Struensee, during this bloody scene, stood 
 at the bottom of the scaffold in trembling agony, and 
 became so faint when his friend's blood gushed
 
 166 NOTES. 
 
 through the boards, and trickled down the steps, that 
 he was obliged to be supported as he ascended them : 
 here his courage wholly forsook him ; he several 
 times drew back his hand, which was dreadfully 
 maimed before it was cut off, and at length he was 
 obliged to be held down before the executioner could 
 perform his last office. Copenhagen was unpeopled 
 on the day of this savage sacrifice; but although the 
 feeling of the vast crowd, which surrounded the scaf- 
 fold, had been artfully wrought upon by Juliana and 
 her partizans, they beheld the scene of butchery with 
 horror, and retired to their homes in sullen silence. 
 Nothing but the spirited conduct of our then ambas- 
 sador, Sir Robert Keith, prevented the Queen from 
 being immolated at the same time. 
 
 On the 27th of May, a squadron of British fri- 
 gates and a cutter, under the command of the gal- 
 lant Captain Macbride, cast anchor off Helsingfort, 
 and on the 30th every thing was finally arranged 
 for the removal of the Queen. Upon the barge being 
 announced, she clasped her infant daughter to her 
 breast, and shed upon her a shower of tears. The
 
 NOTES. 167 
 
 Queen then sunk into an apparent stupor; upon re- 
 covering, she prepared to tear herself' away, but the 
 voice, the smiles, and endearing motions of her babe, 
 chained her to the spot ; at last summoning up all 
 her resolution, site once more took it to her arms, 
 and in all the ardour and agony of distracted love, 
 imprinted upon its lips the farewell kiss, and return- 
 ing it to the attendant, exclaimed, " Away I away! 
 I now possess nothing here ;" and was supported to the 
 barege in a sort of agony which baffles description. 
 Upon the Queen approaching the Frigate, the squa- 
 dron saluted her as the sister of his Britannic Ma- 
 jesty, and when she came on board, Captain Mac- 
 bride hoisted the Danish colours, and insisted upon 
 the fortress of Cronberg saluting her as Queen of 
 Denmark, which salute was returned with two guns 
 less. The squadron then set sail for Stade, in the 
 Hanoverian dominions ; but owing to contrary winds, 
 was detained within sight of the castle the whole day, 
 and in the early part of the following morning its 
 spires were faintly visible, and till they completely
 
 J (7S 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 laded in the mist of distance, the Queen sat upon the 
 deck, her eyes rivetted upon them, and her hands 
 
 clasped in silent agony. Shall we follow the wretched 
 Matilda a little further? The path is solitary, very 
 short, and at the end of it is her tomb. Upon her 
 landing at Stade she proceeded to a little remote 
 hunting seat upon the borders of the Elbe, where 
 she remained a few months, until the Castle of Zell, 
 destined for her future residence, was prepared for 
 her. She removed to it in the autumn : here her little 
 court was remarked for its elegance and accomplish- 
 ments, for its bounty to the peasantry, and the cheer- 
 ful serenity which reigned throughout. The Queen 
 sDent much of her time alone, and having obtained 
 the portraits of her children from Denmark, she 
 placed them in a retired apartment, and frequently 
 addressed them in the most affecting manner as if 
 present. 
 
 So passed away the life of this beautiful and 
 accomplished exile; until the 11th of May, 1775, 
 when a rapid inflammatory fever put an end to her
 
 XOTES. 169 
 
 afflictions, in the twenty-fifth year of her age. Her 
 coffin is next to that of the duke of Zell. 
 Farewell, poor Queen !" 
 
 " Ah! while we sigh we sink, and are what we despair." 
 Carr's Xoktherx Summer. 
 
 l\ 0,6, 1. 13. The tics of nature to protect your babes. 
 
 Close to the dizzy edge 
 Of Crissa's cliff that overhangs its base, 
 On hands and knees a giddy babe had crept. 
 Lysippe saw, with agony too great 
 For utterance. Feeling, as mothers feel, she stood 
 All motionless with grief. \\ hat could she dare? 
 To stir was death — and not to stir— Great God! 
 .Sure 'twas thyself who didst into her soul 
 Inspire the sudden thought : she bared her breast, 
 Stiil motionless with hope; the well-known sight 
 Caught the child's eye; Lysippe softly stepp'd 
 And seized her boy. — Oh ! Nature's softest food ! 
 Thou wast a mother's bribe to save her babe. 
 
 Translation of a Greek Epigram supposed 
 t" be written by Archius.
 
 170 NOTES. 
 
 P. 27 , I. 3. So&'s ffo /«;s? seed for sweet Affection's 
 bloom. 
 
 " My tender mother was the worthiest and most 
 interesting of women, and truly amiable in her fa- 
 mily. 1 never could imagine how with the simple 
 education of our little convent at Bort, she had ac- 
 quired so much polish of mind, with such elevation 
 of soul, and particularly in her language and style, a 
 feeling of propriety so just, so delicate, so refined, 
 that it appeared in her to be the pure instinct of taste. 
 " My father had the greatest veneration andlovefor 
 her. His only cause of reproach was her weakness 
 for me, and this weakness had some excuse : I was 
 the only one of her children that she had suckled." — 
 Life of Marmontel, vol. i, p. 12. 
 
 P. 27, 1. 1. Unless where sickness or disease in- 
 vade. 
 
 I have high medical authority to assert, that 
 nearly in every case in which nature affords strength
 
 NOTES. 171 
 
 to give birth, she gives the ability to suckle, if the 
 mother be properly treated : and many instances 
 have occurred of a strong tendency to a consump- 
 tion having been long averted from producing fatal 
 consequences, and sometimes the disease eradicated, 
 by mothers suckling their infants, under proper 
 regulations. 
 
 P. 28, 1. 5. >Shared with that guilty son the sentence 
 due. 
 
 " Zaleucus, prince of the Locrians, made a decree, 
 that whoever was convicted of adultery should be 
 punished with the loss of both his eyes. Soon after 
 this establishment the legislator's own son was appre- 
 hended in the very fact, and brought to a public 
 trial. How could the father acquit himself in so 
 tender and delicate a conjuncture? Should he exe- 
 cute the law in all its rigour, this would be worse 
 than death to the unhappy youth. Should he par- 
 don so notorious a delinquent, this would defeat the 
 design of his salutary institution. To avoid both
 
 172 NOTES. 
 
 these inconveiileneies, lie ordered one of his own 
 eyes to be pulled out, and one of his son's." — /Elian. 
 
 I select another instance of parental affection 
 from below what may be called the middle rank of 
 society — similar instances are numerous. 
 
 " While the English were observing some of the 
 religious customs of the Chinese, an event took place 
 which ffave the latter an opportunity of secins; an 
 European ceremony of religion in the funeral of a 
 person belonging to the embassy, who died during 
 its short stay at Tong-choo-foo. He was an inge- 
 nious and skilful artist in brass and other metals. 
 From Birmingham he had settled in London, where 
 he was earning a decent subsistence, when he heard 
 that an expedition was fitting out for China, lie 
 had conceived a notion that many improvements in 
 the arts were practised at Pefcin which were little 
 known in Europe; among others, that of making a 
 kind of tinsel that did not tarnish. He fancied that 
 were he acquainted with such improvements, he 
 should be enabled to provide handsomely for his fa-
 
 NOTES. 173 
 
 milv. He did not indeed expect to enjoy long him- 
 self the benefits of any secret he fhould discover. 
 He ivas past the middle age, of a feeble make, and 
 subject to many complaints. But he thought it not 
 too much to shorten his own life in a perilous voy- 
 age, for the sake of being able to communicate to 
 his offspring what would be the means of their pros- 
 perity. But his constitution, broken down by fatigue 
 and illness, was unable to support him any longer, 
 and he fell a sacrifice to the affection he bore his 
 childroi." — Macartney's Embassy, vol. ii, p. 104. 
 
 P. L 2S, 1.17- From tried experience, I advise i/ou zcell, 
 Make home delightful, S;c. 
 
 " But the principal charm that my native village 
 has left on my memory arises from the vivid impres- 
 sion [ still retain of the first feelings with which my 
 soul was imbued and penetrated by the inexpres- 
 sible tenderness that my parents showed me. If I 
 have any kindness in my character, I am persuaded 
 that I owe it to these gentle emotions; to the habi- 
 tual happiness of loving and being beloved. Ah!
 
 174 NOTES. 
 
 what a gift do we receive from Heaven when we 
 are blessed with kind affectionate parents!"— Life 
 of Marmontel, vol.i. p. 5. 
 
 P. 28., 1. 19. The scene of all your best, your richest 
 
 With pleasure I avow that this advice to parents 
 is not theoretical experiment, but the result of a Ion? 
 experience, attended with the happiest effects. 
 
 P. 29, 1. 14. In the young bosom too this virtue burns. 
 
 <c The little family atour head quarters (the Crossed 
 Poxes) has interested us extremely. It consists of a 
 widow woman, her son, and daughter; the former is 
 a middle aged person, with ;i cast of melancholy in 
 her countenance, and an humbleness of manners 
 which indicate a knowledge of better days, but at the 
 same time a perfect resignation to her present situa- 
 tion. The daughter, a sweet tempered, modest little 
 girl, about seventeen; the boy, a sprightly and sen-
 
 NOTES. 175 
 
 sible lad of thirteen or fourteen. There is no surer 
 road, my friend, to the confidence of an honest heart, 
 than by taking a real interest in its feelings. The 
 poor woman saw that our enquiries were not the 
 result of impertinent curiosity, and therefore told us, 
 without reserve, her short but melancholy story. 
 Two years since, she observed, she was living; in 
 credit and comfort, with a kind and tender husband, 
 and a son grown to man's estate, dutiful and affec- 
 tionate, the darling of herself, and beloved by all the 
 country round. Her husband, who had been brought 
 up in the mine agency business, had just obtained 
 an appointment which cleared him about three hun- 
 dred pounds per annum, and an establishment of a 
 similar nature was promised to the eldest son. The 
 other children, a daughter, since married, and the 
 two younger ones, were placed in the best schools in 
 the country, and nothing seemed wanting to com- 
 plete the happiness of the little contented family. 
 In the midst of this halcyon, but deceitful calm, her 
 husband caught a violent cold in one of the mines 
 which he superintended: a fever succeeded, and in
 
 1/6 NOTES. 
 
 a few days he was judged to be in danger. During 
 the sickness of his father, the elder son, who doated 
 on him, was rivetted to his bed : he nursed and at- 
 tended him when awake, and watched by his pillow 
 whilst he dosed; administered his medicines, and 
 prepared his food. The physician at length pro- 
 nounced that all hope was past, and the patient must 
 die. Two days confirmed his prediction, for on the 
 evening of the second the affectionate son witnessed 
 the expiring struggles of his beloved parent. From 
 this moment the youth was never heard to speak. lie 
 did not weep indeed, but the deep convulsive sighs 
 which burst occasionally from his bosom, bespoke 
 the unutterable grief with which he was oppressed. 
 Nothing however could prevent him paying the last 
 duties to his parent, and attending the corpse to the 
 adjoining church-yard. But reason was unequal to 
 this effort; the solemn ceremony of interment, the 
 weeping crowd around, and the chilling sound of 
 the earth rattling on the coffin when the body was 
 consigned to is final home, destroyed his poor re- 
 main- of sense. He uttered a heart-piercing shriek,
 
 NOTES. 
 
 17 
 
 and started into a paroxysm of the wildest phrenzy. — 
 Warner's Second Walk through Wales, vol. ii, 
 p. 252.. 
 
 P. ,10, 1. G. The sacred dust near his high groves en- 
 tombed. 
 
 The monument erected by Pope to the memory 
 or his mother, will long remain a lively expression 
 of a delicate filial affection, worthy of lasting record : 
 it is placed at one extremity of his tasteful grounds, 
 and consists of a plain stone quadrangular obelisk, — 
 Inscribed on the South — Ah ! Editha. 
 
 West — Matrum Optima. 
 North— Mulierum Amantissima. 
 East— Vale. 
 What an appeal to the feelings of our nature: 
 
 Alexander Tope and his parents lie buried in 
 Twickenham Church, and on the outside walls thereof 
 is a plain stone with the following inscription.
 
 J 78 NOTES. 
 
 To the memory of 
 
 MARY BEACH, 
 
 Who died Nov. 5, 17125, aged 76, 
 
 ALEXANDER POPE, 
 
 whom she nursed in his infancy, 
 
 and constantly attended for thirty-eight years, 
 
 in 
 
 gratitude to a faithful old servant, 
 
 erected this stone. 
 
 A notable example both for masters and servants. 
 
 The famous and admired weeping willow planted 
 bj' Pope is at length felled to the ground ; it has been 
 long decayed, yet the axe still lingered, but at length 
 the fatal stroke was given. It came from Spain, in- 
 closing a present to the late Lady Suffolk, who came 
 over with George IF, and Queen Caroline, and was a 
 favourite of both, particularly so of the king. ]\Jr. 
 Pope was in company when the covering was taken 
 oil the present; he observed, the pieces of sticks ap- 
 peared as if there was tome vegetation, and added,
 
 NOTES. \79 
 
 " Perhaps they may produce something we have not 
 in England." Under this idea he planted it in his 
 garden, and it produced the willow tree that has given 
 birth to so many others. This is said to be the first 
 willow planted in England. 
 
 Annual Register, Jug. 27, 1801. 
 
 I\ 30, 1. 11. Vibrate the deep regrets his bosom felt 
 
 How considerable a share of the " mens divinior," 
 so essential to the mind of a poet, has Cowper exhi- 
 bited throughout his works, and most conspicuously 
 in his address to his Mother's Picture; — a Poem re- 
 plete with genuine Affection and filial Piety. 
 
 P. 3 1, 1. 1 .5. Who would have shared his honour 'd fate. 
 
 Russell's consort, a woman of great merit, finding 
 all applications vain, collected courage, and not only 
 fortified herself against the fatal blow, but endeavoured 
 by her example to strengthen the resolution of her 
 unfortunate Lord. With a tender and decent com-
 
 180 NOTLS. 
 
 posure they took leave of each other on the day of 
 his execution. " The bitterness is now passed," said 
 lie, when he turned from her. 
 
 Lord Cavendish had lived in the closest intimacy 
 with Russell, and deserted not his friend in his cala- 
 mity. He gallantly offered to manage his escape, 
 by changing cloaths with him and remaining at all 
 hazards in his place. Russell refused to save his own 
 life by an expedient which might expose his friend 
 to so many hardships. When the Duke of Mon- 
 mouth by message offered to surrender himself, if 
 Russell thought that that measure would in any way 
 contribute to his safety: " It will be no advantage to 
 me," said he, " to have my friends die with me." 
 
 P. 32, 1. 9. Then sudden and altrt the nation rose. 
 
 However defective the original organization of 
 the volunteers may have been as a system of natural 
 defence, the alacrity with winch they flew to arms, 
 when their beloved country was thought in danger, 
 must ever entitle them to the warmest thanks of their 
 countrymen.
 
 XOTES. ]81 
 
 P. 3C, 1.15. Seek first the happiness of those they love. 
 
 " Let me now confess a suspicion, which to my 
 shame and mortification I have entertained, it is that 
 you are more capable of love than myself. Yes, my 
 Eloisa, it is on you that my life, my being depends: 
 I revere you with all the faculties of my soul, but 
 yours contains more of love. I see, I feel that love 
 hath penetrated deeper into your heart than mine." — 
 Rousseau. 
 
 P. 32, LIS. Jlhat though not form d to dare the 
 lofty heights — 
 
 I am well aware that some of my fair country- 
 women may be disposed to contend with me the fact 
 of their inferiority in intellect to the other sex. I 
 should hope they would be satisfied with the more 
 amiable and more honourable characteristic, which 
 from my heart and soul I acknowledge they possess, 
 namely, a decided superiority in the virtues of the 
 heart. But if not content with this acknowledgment,
 
 182 NOTES. 
 
 they wish a more explicit detail, L would observe, 
 that until they can bring forward individuals from 
 among them, who, in the various arts or sciences 
 have reached, as it were, the very bounds of human 
 intellect; till they can produce a Raphael — a Shake- 
 speare—a Boyle — a Bacon — or a Newton — they 
 must be content to range in the powers of the mind 
 one degree only inferior to man. 
 
 P. 33, 1.4. With fancy revelling midst her redd do- 
 mains. 
 
 " I must not omit to state, for the honour of the 
 female sex, that how ever we are at a loss to explain 
 ourselves on account of our ignorance of the Danish 
 language, and had exhausted our stock of gestures 
 upon the men in vain, we always found that the wo- 
 men comprehended us with one-third of our panto- 
 mimic action; and to the end of my days I shall 
 gratefully and experimentally contend for the superior 
 quickness of female comprehension. — Carr's Nor- 
 thern Summer, p. 35.
 
 NOTES. 1S3 
 
 P. 33, 1. 8. Whether zee rove 
 
 Siberia's desart plains, or Liby's zvaste. 
 
 Numerous are the instances which might be ad- 
 duced, fully to corroborate the tenderness and huma- 
 nity of the female sex, in all nations of the world. 
 I shall select only those from countries of which we 
 entertain ideas of their being considerably deficient 
 in civilization : the first is from the Travels of Mungo 
 Park into the interior of Africa; after mentioning 
 several periods in which lie was relieved from ex- 
 treme want and hunger, by the voluntary kindne-s ol 
 female strangers, he proceeds thus: 
 
 " About sunset, however, as I was preparing to 
 pass the night in this miserable manner, and having 
 turned my horse loose, that he might graze at liberty, 
 a woman, returning from the labours of the field, 
 stopped to observe me, and perceiving that I was 
 weary and dejected, enquired into my situation, which 
 I briefly explained to her; whereupon, with looks of 
 great compassion, she took up my saddle and bridle, 
 and told me to follow her. Having conducted mc
 
 184 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 into her hut, she lighted up a lamp, spread a mat on 
 ihe floor, and told me I might remain there for the 
 night. Finding that I was very hungry, >nc said, 
 that she would procure mo something to eat. She 
 accordingly went out, and returned in a short time 
 with a fine fish, which having caused to he halt' 
 broiled upon some embers, she gave me for supper. 
 The riles of hospitality being thus performed towards 
 a stranger in distress, my worthy benefactress (point- 
 ing to the mat, and telling me 1 might sleep there 
 without apprehension), called to the female part of 
 the family, who had stood gazing on me all the 
 while, in fixed astonishment, to resume their task of 
 -[.inning cotton; in which they continued to employ 
 themselves great part of the night. They lightened 
 their labour by songs, one of which was composed 
 extempore, for 1 was myself the subject of it. It 
 was sung by one of the young women, the rest join- 
 ing in a sort of chorus. The air was sweet and plain- 
 tive, and the words literally translated were these. 
 "■' The winds roared, and the rains fell. The poor 
 white man faint and wearv came and sat under our
 
 NOTES. 185 
 
 tree. He had no mother to bring him milk, no wife 
 to grind him corn. Let us pity the white man, no 
 mother has he, See. &c. Trifling as this recital may- 
 appear to the reader, to a person in my situation, the 
 circumstance was affecting in the highest degree. I 
 was oppressed by such unexpected kindness; and 
 sleep fled from my eyes. In the morning I pre- 
 sented my compassionate landlady with two of the 
 four hrass buttons which remained on my waistcoat, 
 the only recompense I could make her. 
 
 This natural Air has been rendered into English 
 verse, and set to music. 
 
 I. 
 
 The loud wind roared, the rain fell fast, 
 The white man yielded to the blast, 
 He sat him down beneath our tree, 
 For weary, sad, and faint was he : 
 And ah ! no wife or mother's care 
 The milk, or corn, for him prepare! 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 The white man shall our pity share, 
 Alas! no wife or mother's care 
 The milk or corn for him prepare!
 
 186 VOTES. 
 
 II. 
 
 1'he mom is o'er, the tempest past. 
 And mercy's voice has hush'd the bla.->t ; 
 The wind is heard in whispers low : 
 The white man far away must go; — 
 But ever in his heart will bear 
 Remembrance of the negro's care. — 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Go, white man, go — but with thee bear 
 
 The negro's wish — the negro's prayer, 
 Remembrance of the negro's care! 
 
 The intrepid Ledyard also observes, that more 
 than once lie owed his life to the compassionate 
 temper of women: his gratitude drew from him the 
 following just character of the female sex: 
 
 " I have always remarked, that women in all 
 countries, are civil, obliging, tender, and humane; 
 that they are ever inclined to be gay and cheerful, 
 timorous and mode-t: and that they do not hesitate, 
 like men, to perform a generous action. >.ot 
 haughty — not arrogant — not supercilious, they are 
 full of courtesy and fond of society; more liable, in 
 general, to err than man, hut, in general, also more
 
 NOTES. 187 
 
 virtuous, and performing more good actions than he. 
 To a woman, whether civilized or savage, I never 
 addressed myself in the language of decency or friend- 
 ship, without receiving a decent and friendly answer. 
 In Denmark, Sweden, Lapland, Finland, Russia, and 
 Tartary, if hungry, thirsty, cold, wet, or sick, the 
 women have ever been friendly to me, and uniformly 
 so; and to add to this virtue, so worthy the appella- 
 tion of benevolence, these actions have been per- 
 formed in so free and so kind a manner, that if I was 
 thirsty I drank the sweetest draught; and if hungry 
 I ate the coarsest morsel with a double relish." 
 
 P. 33, 1. 19- Attachment strong burst from the feeble 
 frame. 
 
 Many a chequered year has rolled away since I 
 was called to attend the death-bed of an honoured 
 uncle, and most sincere friend; — his affectionate fare- 
 well still vibrates on my ears, and w ill be felt with 
 gratitude at my heart till that heart too shall cease 
 to beat.
 
 188 NOTES. 
 
 i\ 34, 1. 10. And when enfolded in the circling arms. 
 
 Similar sensations to these many a fond parent 
 has experienced. 
 
 P. 35. 1. 4. Than the simplicity of joyous sports 
 Of happy youth. 
 
 The mind and the affections of children, and even 
 of youth, if not too early hackneyed in the ways of 
 the world, are strongly susceptible of the feelings of 
 the heart; I recall to mind with satisfaction the sen- 
 sations I experienced, when a friend, who visited at 
 my father's, favoured me with particular distinction. 
 I could have done any thing lor him. 
 
 P. 35, 1. 18. A gainst the enormities of modern time. 
 
 I think I am fully justified in this opinion by 
 various considerations. Notwithstanding the "Teat 
 increase of the population of Britain, it is a well 
 ascertained fact, that on the average of the last ten
 
 NOTES. 189 
 
 year?, the number of trials for criminal charges is 
 very considerably diminished. 
 
 And on the other hand, the numerous charitable 
 institutions, which are every day commencing, and 
 receive warm encouragement for the relief of misery, 
 whatever shape it assume, the unwearied pains that 
 is taking to spread Christianity, and the general feel- 
 ings of humanity which prevail, authorise the asser- 
 tion, that there is vet anions; mankind 
 
 No small amount of piety and worth. 
 
 It should be remembered also that the various 
 allusions which our Saviour made to his religion, 
 had all references to a state of gradual progression. 
 
 P. 3(5, 1. 13. Taught by his great exemplar, Hozcard 
 strove. 
 
 The biographer of Howard relates: — " That be- 
 fore he set out on his last journey, from which he 
 returned not, he and his very intimate and highly 
 respected friend, Dr. Price, took a most affectionate
 
 190 XOTES. 
 
 and pathetic leave of each other. From the age and 
 infirmities of the one, and the hazards the other was 
 going to encounter, it was the foreboding of each of 
 them that they should never meet again in this 
 world ; and their farewell corresponded with the so- 
 lemnity of such an occasion. The reader's mind 
 will pause upon the parting embrace of two such 
 men; and revere the mixture of cordial affection, 
 tender regret, philosophic firmness, and christian 
 resignation, which their minds must have displayed. 
 
 P. 37, 1.10. Some hidden spring of strong Affection's 
 pozecr. 
 
 Lady Macbeth. 
 Alack! I am afraid they have awak'd, 
 And 'tis not done: — the attempt, and not the deed. 
 Confounds us: — Hark! I laid their daggers ready, 
 He could not miss them. — Had he not resembled 
 My father as he slept, 1 had done 't. —
 
 NOTES. 191 
 
 i\ 40, 1. '20. Affrighted reason Jled — and all was void. 
 
 Oh! that this tale of misery existed only in the 
 coinage of the author's brain; — but, alas! it is verified 
 in the experience of every day, I had almost said, of 
 every hour; of late the cases of it that have reached 
 the public ear have been numerous indeed, how 
 much more so the private instances of seduction have 
 been are unknown. ^ e legislators of Britain, look 
 to this; surely there must be somewhat defective in 
 your code, when the man who meets us on the high- 
 way, and steals our purse, shall expiate the crime 
 with his life; and the villain who seduces an amiable 
 female, destroys her peace of mind and character in 
 society, and, perhaps, involves a worthy family in 
 irretrievable distress, shall nevertheless go unpu- 
 nished, or, at most, commute his crime with a 
 paltry fine. 
 
 P. 46, 1.4. Beasts that arc nozc the terror of mankind. 
 
 Man was formed a social being; the confidence 
 which every rank of animated creation exhibited 10-
 
 192 NOTES. 
 
 wards him, was not the least of the pleasures of Para- 
 dise; he could, fearless, tread among the painted 
 basilisks, and invite the ferocious tyger, or the roar- 
 ing lion, to he the companions of his way. 
 
 P. 46, 1. 8. How zcide diffused, and oh! hozc vast the 
 sum. 
 
 That the happiness of Paradise was supreme will 
 not be disputed. Nor can it be denied that great as 
 is the amount of misery in the world at present, it is 
 preponderated by a sum of happiness: the discussion 
 is too long for a note, each one's reflections, I pre- 
 sume,, will be sufficient to decide the point. 
 
 P. 47, 1. 22. Ye tell distinctively of love divine! 
 
 Delightful science of astronomy! the more we 
 contemplate thee, the more we discover of the wis- 
 dom and omnipotence of the Deity; and what study 
 so amusing or so instructive. It ought to form a 
 component part of every system of education, in 
 every rank of life.
 
 NOTES. 193 
 
 P. 47 , 1. 18. And ye resplendent stars that hung on 
 high. 
 
 Tending their flocks by night the ancient Egyp- 
 tians attained a considerable degree of astronomical 
 knowledge, and previous to the invention of the com- 
 pass, the polar star became the point of observation, 
 by which the ancient mariners steered their course 
 through the pathless ocean. 
 
 P. 49, 1.21. Evhi the portentous and destructive 
 flame. 
 
 Man alone, of all the creatures of this globe, is 
 endued with dominion over the element of fire, 
 which, by means of modern improvements, is now 
 become subservient to the most valuable purposes, 
 particularly in the various beneficial applications of 
 the steam engine. 
 
 All other creatures flv from fire with alarm.
 
 1^4 NOTES. 
 
 P- 50, 1. 5. Nature exhibits! J iera her in her zcorks. 
 
 To the contemplative mind what an expansive 
 view here presents itself of the harmony of creation. 
 Fishes are covered with scales, so adapted to each 
 other, as to accelerate their motions through the 
 element in which they are destined to live, and in 
 their internal structure so formed by gall bladders, 
 and other wonderful contrivances, as to further all 
 the ends of their creation: whoever studies the 
 beautiful oeconomy of the birds must be struck with 
 admiration at the wisdom displayed in their construc- 
 tion; among the quadrupeds too, what surprising 
 conformations appear. Goats will skip and play on 
 the very ridges of lofty mountains with security, 
 where any other animal would inevitably perish : and 
 through the sandy desarts of Arabia and Africa, no 
 other animal than the camel can possibly endure the 
 climate, and the necessarily long abstinence that a 
 journey over those desarts requires; whilst the do- 
 mestic cow, whose milky stores are of such importance 
 to man, is found morning and evening at his door,
 
 NOTES. 195 
 
 soliciting, as it were, to be disencumbered of her 
 salubrious stores. But it is among the rational creation 
 that we observe the highest degrees of wise confor- 
 mation; the constitutions — the aliments — the ha- 
 bits — the propensities — the complexions — the minds 
 of man, are various as the various climes that he 
 inhabits. Wonderful Counsellor! the mighty God! 
 
 P. 50, 1.14. Rewards the giver zcith untimely death. 
 
 Policy, as well as humanity, should induce the 
 proprietors of bees to collect their honey without de- 
 stroying their hives; this art was not unknown to 
 the ancients, it is described by Columella, and is 
 practised in Greece to this day. in our country 
 several plans arc adopted with success ; consult the 
 Essays of Wilman, Thorley, &c. The ceconomy of 
 the bees is so entertaining as fully to compensate the 
 research necessary to understand it.
 
 196 NOTES. 
 
 P. 51, 1. 21 . W ith hoofs prepared to tread the scorcli- 
 ing soil. 
 
 The adaptation of the camel for travelling the 
 desarts, is so striking, as of itself to be a sufficient 
 proof of the infinite wisdom of the Creator; and if 
 any thing were wanting to confirm it, we need only 
 remark, that these animals are found in no other 
 parts of the world but where they can be thus 
 beneficial. 
 
 P. 51, 1. 14. Jits their fleecy sides, 
 
 To yield to man the Kami habiliment. 
 
 "We are not sufficiently aware of the extensive 
 usefulness of sheep. There is no part of these ani- 
 mals but is of essential benefit to man; they not only 
 supply him with the most wholesome animal food, 
 but find employment for various manufactories, at 
 all seasons; they afford him annually a most comfort- 
 able and wholesome clothing; their skins supply him 
 with parchment and glue; from other parts candles
 
 XOTES. 197 
 
 and soap arc produced ; of their horns are formed 
 buttons and other common articles, even their bones 
 are of essential use, and their manure is found to be 
 one of the best means of improving land. 
 
 P. j<2, 1. 2. All various nature to its various end. 
 
 How extensively might this system of harmonious 
 conformity be carried on; the forms and stings of' 
 the several insects to their distinct uses — the shoals 
 of fishes to their various foods — birds to their con- 
 genial climates, and beasts to their appropriate haunts; 
 the eye-lid to the eye — morning to freshness — dark- 
 ness to sleep — hands and feet to their respective pur- 
 poses; and above all, the mind of man to research 
 into every thins; around him, and even to contem- 
 plate the Deity. 
 
 P. 5?>, 1. 16. The lengthened twilight, and the Aurora 
 gleam. 
 In Sweden the winter prevails nine months in 
 the year; the heats of summer immediately succeed
 
 198 NOTES. 
 
 to excessive cold, and the frosts take place in the 
 month of October, without any of those insensible 
 gradations, which, in other countries, usher in the 
 seasons, and render the alteration more agreeable. 
 But nature in return has given them a clear sky, and 
 a pure air. The almost constant heat of the summer 
 produces flowers and fruits in a very short time; and 
 the long nights of winter are tempered by the even- 
 ing and morning twilights, which last in proportion 
 to the sun's distance from Sweden: and the light of 
 the moon, which is not obscured by any cloud, and 
 is farther increased by the reflexion of the snow which 
 covers the ground, and very often by the Aurora 
 Boreal is, makes it as easy to travel in Sweden by 
 night as by clay. 
 
 P. jG, 1. 10. And xchcre the car b\j nature is attuned 
 'To musics harmonics — 
 
 Dr. Beattie relates the following instance of the 
 power of music. 
 
 ■' When Handel's Messiah was first performed,
 
 NOTES. ]99 
 
 the audience were exceedingly struck and affected 
 bv the music in general : but when that chorus struck 
 up lc For the Lord God Omnipotent reigueth," they 
 were so transported, that they all, with the King-, 
 (who happened to be present) started up and re- 
 mained standing till the chorus ended; and hence it 
 became the fashion in England for the audience to 
 stand while that part of the music is performing. 
 Some days after the first exhibition of the same Ora- 
 torio, Handel came to pay his respects to Lord 
 Kinnoul, with whom he was particularly acquainted. 
 His Lordship, as was natural, paid him some compli- 
 ments on the noble entertainment which he had 
 lately given to the town. " My Lord," said Handel, 
 <( I should be sorry if 1 only entertained them; I 
 wish to make them better." — These two anecdotes I 
 had from Lord Kinnoul himself. You will agree 
 with me, that the first does great honour to Handel, 
 to mu^ic, to the English nation: the second tends to 
 confirm my theory, and Sir ,1. Hawkins'.-, testimony, 
 that Handel, in spite of all that has been said to the 
 contrary, must have been a pious man.
 
 200 XOTES. 
 
 P. 57, 1. 7. The blest appointment of a day of rest , 
 
 It was the author's intention to have enlarged on 
 this part of the subject, and to have exemplified in 
 how many different ways the Sabbath is beneficial to 
 man; but this has been so well done by Grahame, in 
 his " Poem on the Sabbath/' as to render any far- 
 ther notice thereof unnecessary here. 
 
 P. 6l, 1,7. And only look through nature to my 
 God. 
 
 Forcibly as I have expressed myself on this sub- 
 ject, I have not exceeded my feelings. Educated in 
 principles of civil and religious liberty from child- 
 hood, I have ever held in abhorrence every degree 
 of persecution for opinion; and the reign of Bloody 
 Queen Mary is so stained in almost every page with 
 aggravated barbarity, as to become in the minds of 
 infidels, an argument against Christianity itself: and 
 1 much fear that a research into ecclesiastical history 
 will evince that religion has sustained greater inju-
 
 NOTES. 201 
 
 ries from its pretended friends, than from its deter- 
 mined enemies. 
 
 But it is not to the stake alone that we must turn 
 for exhibitions of religious persecution; it is to be 
 found in a less, or in a greater degree, in every sepa- 
 rate sect; and will continue so to be until Christianity 
 is embraced in its original simplicity, as exhibited in 
 the maxims and examples of its great author, and in 
 the practice and simplicities of its first teacher. 
 
 P.Gl, 1. 12. With bigot wrath and mad anathema. 
 
 In the grand concerns of religion no man has a 
 right to influence or to judge of the conscience of 
 another. In the representations that are given in the 
 Revelations of the Day of Judgment, it is the Judge 
 alone whose garments are stained with blood; the 
 saints are uniformly described as clothed in white 
 robes.
 
 202 NOTES. 
 
 P. Gl, 1. 13. Not to the narrow bounds of sect co?i- 
 Jined. 
 
 Viewing Christianity , divided as it is into nume- 
 rous sects, and observing, with a sorrowful feeling, 
 the dreadful persecutions with which its professors 
 have stained it, the philosophic mind, on the first 
 view, is disposed to enquire, How can this be? But 
 on a narrow inspection, it may appear probable, that 
 the Almighty author thereof, knowing how prone 
 mankind are to sacrifice all future prospect to present 
 pleasures, may have sanctioned these differences in 
 opinion and in belief, to keep the minds of men alive 
 to the subjects of religion, and prevent its loss to the 
 world. But notwithstanding, differences of opinion 
 might be maintained with moderation and temper. 
 
 J would it were in my power by any arguments 
 [ could adduce, any authorities I could emote, or 
 any examples I could bring forward, to counteract 
 that unhappy spirit of bigotry and persecution which 
 so extensively prevails among the various denomi- 
 nations of Christians. It was a favourite sentiment
 
 NOTES. 9,03 
 
 of Dr. Jebb, that " no effort is lost;" perhaps the fol- 
 lowing observations and facts may have some good 
 effect to promote Christian charity. 
 
 " From men of enlightened understanding and 
 sound judgment, who in their researches after truth, 
 have swept away from their hearts the dust of malice 
 and opposition, it is not concealed that the contra- 
 rieties of religion and diversities of belief, which are 
 causes of envy, and of enmity to the ignorant, are, in 
 fact, a manifest demonstration of the power, wisdom, 
 and goodness, of the Supreme Being." — Prelimi- 
 nary Discourse to Gentoo Laws. 
 
 The common people among the Chinese, con- 
 scious of the numerous ills to which they are liable, 
 are disposed to seek for safeguards on every side. 
 Their minds being once open to credulity, are ready 
 to accept any supernatural assistance offered to them 
 by a new religion, against the violence of power, or 
 the calamities of nature. Their own has nothing ex- 
 clusive in it; and they would have embraced Chris- 
 tianity in greater numbers, if it could have been 
 associated with other tenets. The Jesuits, who were
 
 204 NOTES. 
 
 desirous of permitting with it the ceremonies per- 
 formed by the Chinese in the halls of their ancestors, 
 would have been much more successful than their 
 opponents who condemned them; to whom the prin- 
 cipal subject of reproach from a pagan at present is, 
 that " they neglect their forefathers." — Macartney, 
 vol. ii. 
 
 " Soon after Frederick the Great ascended the 
 throne, lie conceived the sublime idea of building a 
 vast pantheon, in which every description of devotion 
 might at an allotted time find its altar. Policy, if not 
 genuine charity, induced that sagacious prince to 
 think that tolerance was necessary to the interests as 
 well as the dignity of a nation, and he was desirous 
 of not only seeing his subjects and foreigners wor- 
 ship their God in their own way, but that, like bro- 
 thers, they should prostrate themselves before him in 
 the same temple. On account of the state of the 
 trcasurv, Frederick was successfully advised to drop 
 his benign plan, and it was never afterwards re- 
 sumed." — CARR'S >vORTIIErvN SUMMER, p. 4(30. 
 
 Cowper wrote occasionally to clerical friends of
 
 XOTES. c 205 
 
 the established church, and to others among the dis- 
 senters. His heart made no difference between them, 
 for it felt towards both the fraternal sensations of 
 true Christianity. 
 
 <c The biographer of Howard relates that he was 
 less solicitous about modes and opinions, than the in- 
 ternal spirit of piety and devotion ; and in his estimate 
 of different religious societies, the circumstances to 
 to which he principally attended, were their zeal and 
 sincerity.** — Aikin's Life, p. iy. 
 
 I cannot better conclude these observations than 
 by the following extract from Gilbert Wakefield, 
 which breathes the true spirit of Christianity. 
 
 " Those arc the only disciples of the benevolent 
 Xazarene, of him who lived and died for the salvation 
 of his brethren ; those alone, I say, are the genuine 
 followers of the Son of God, who have felt the in- 
 fluence, and exemplify the effects of this glorious 
 maxim of their teacher, c: The love of our neigh- 
 bour is the fulfilling of the law." Such men dis- 
 joined in opinion, but united in heart, amidst all the 
 varieties of sentiment and profession, may be com-
 
 £06 NOTES. 
 
 pared to travellers on their way to the same city, 
 separated for a time by roads which divaricate in- 
 deed, but are never very distant from each other, 
 and meet with a quick eonvergency in the same 
 point at last." 
 
 P. 6l, 1. lG. Through every region and o'er evert/ 
 clime. 
 
 Then Peter opened his mouth, and said, " Of a 
 truth I perceive that God is no respecter of persons: 
 
 But in every nation he that feareth him, and 
 worketh righteousness, is accepted with him." Acts x. 
 v. 34. 
 
 This b\- no means implies that truth in religion 
 is of no importance, or that all religions are alike ac- 
 ceptable to God. 
 
 P. 62, 1. 19. Its balmy odours, its refreshing streams. 
 
 It is observable that Aden, in the eastern dia- 
 leets, is precisely the same word with Eden, which
 
 NOTES. 5207 
 
 we apply to the garden of paradise: it has two senses 
 according to a slight difference in its pronuncia- 
 tion; its first meaning is a settled abode; its second 
 delight, softness, or tranquility: the word Eden had 
 probably one of these senses in the sacred text, 
 though we. use it as a proper name. 
 
 The writer of an old History of the Turkish Em- 
 pire, says, " The air of Egypt sometimes in summer 
 is like any sweet perfume, and almost suffocates the 
 spirits, caused by the wind that brings the odours of 
 the Arabian spices." — Sir Wm. Jon es's Disser- 
 tation, See. 
 
 As when to them, who sail 
 Beyond the Cape of Hope, and now are past 
 Mozambic, off at sea north east winds blow 
 Sabean odours from the spicy shore 
 Of Araby the Bless'd ; Miltox. 
 
 P. 68, 1. GO. Exults the Christian, he may well exult. 
 
 To Christianity is chiefly to be ascribed the abo- 
 lition of the horrid practices of human sacrifices.
 
 208 NOTES. 
 
 " Among the Carthaginians, particular persons, 
 when ihey were desirous of averting any great cala- 
 mity, offered up their children as human sacrifices to 
 their god Moloch. This custom prevailed long among 
 the Phenieians and Canaanites, from whom the Is- 
 raelites borrowed it, though expressly forbid by 
 Heaven. At first, children were inhumanly burnt, 
 either in a fiery furnace like those in the valley of 
 Hinnom, so often mentioned in Scripture, or in a 
 flaming statue of Saturn. The cries of these unhappy 
 victims were drowned by the uninterrupted noise of 
 drums and trumpets." — Rollin's Ancient His- 
 tory. 
 
 This dreadful practice prevailed in almost every 
 nation of the ancient world. The Egyptians had it 
 in the early part of their monarchy. The Cretans 
 had it, and retained it long ; — the nations of Arabia 
 did the same.— The people of Dumah sacrificed every 
 year a child. The Persians buried people alive. 
 Phylarchus affirms, as he is quoted by Porphyry, 
 that of old every Grecian state made it a rule be- 
 fore they marched towards an enemy, to solicit
 
 NOTES. 209 
 
 a blessing on their undertakings, by human vic- 
 tims. 
 
 The Romans were accustomed to the like sacri- 
 fices. They both devoted themselves to the infernal 
 gods, and constrained others to submit to the same 
 horrid doom. 
 
 The Gauls and the Germans were so devoted to 
 this shocking custom, that no business of any mo- 
 ment was transacted among them without being pre- 
 faced with human victims. 
 
 The like custom prevailed to a great degree at. 
 Mexico, under the mild government of the Peru- 
 vians; and in most parts of America. The early 
 history of Britain is stained with similar atrocities. 
 
 But wherever the genius of Christianity has shed 
 its benign and happy influences, all such horrid sacri- 
 fices vanish, hi the interior of Africa, and in many 
 of the Islands of the South Seas, the custom still pre- 
 vails, but it is earnestly to be hoped that the .\iis- 
 sionaries who have so nobly volunteered themselves 
 to the service, will be able to abolish such practices,
 
 210 NOTES. 
 
 and in their stead erect the glorious religion of 
 the cross. 
 
 P. 68, 1. 19. Which grace our empire and adorn our 
 isle. 
 
 11 In Surat there is no hospital for human beings, 
 but an extensive establishment of this nature for sick 
 or maimed animals." — xSiebuhk's Travels, vol. ii, 
 p. 405. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 T. Kensicy, Printer, 
 Colt Court, Fleet Street, London.
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 Los Angeles 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
 Form L9-50m-7,'54(5990)444
 
 
 
 . I '955 
 
 PR 
 S66Ua 
 
 UCS0U 1ilS^ 
 
 /\/V 000 079 025 3
 
 
 m 
 
 ii 
 
 : h!i!!