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DEAR JOSEPH-five-and-twenty y'ears ago-
(Alas, how time esca'pes!-'tis e'ven so'-)
With frequent in'tercourse, and always swe'et,
And always friendly, we were wont to ch'eat/*
A tedious hour-and no w/ we never me'et!
As some grave gentleman in Terence say's,
('Twas/ therefore / much the same in an cient-days),
Good la'ck! we know not what to-mo`rrow brin'gs-
Strange fluctuation of all human things!

True. Changes will befa'll, and friends may p'art,
But distance o'nly/ cannot change the heart:
An'd, were I called/ to prove the assertion tr'ue,
On'e proof should ser've -a reference to you.

Whence comes it the'n, th`at/ in the waˇne-of-life, (Though nothing have occur'red to kindle str'ife,) We find the friends/ we fancied we had wo'n,

Though numerous o'nce, reduced to fe'w or no'ne ?
Can gold grow worth'less/ that has stood the touch?
N'o-g'old they see^med, but they were never suˇch.
Horatio's servant on'ce, with bow and cri'nge
(Swinging the parlour do'or/ upon its hinge,)
Dreading a ne'gative, and overa'wed/

Le'st he should tre'spass, begged to go abro'ad.
Go, f'ellow!—whi'ther?-(turning short abo`ut-)
Na'y-stay at ho`me-yo'u're always going o'ut.
'Tis but a step, si'r, just at the street's e`nd.—
For what? An please you, si'r, to see a friend.
A friend! (Horatio cried, and seemed to start) -
Yea marry shal't thou, and with a'll my hea'rt.-

* Too much care cannot be paid to the pronunciation of the last word of every line in rhyming poetry, especially when there is no printer's punctuation after it, as in "cheat," where the unskilful reader is almost certain to make no pause, and hastens to run "We were wont to cheat" into the next line, thereby at once injuring both the elocution and the verse ;-now, be it remembered, that every such line, though without a point, requires a considerable pause, and, in general, the rising inflection.

And fetch my clo'ak; fo'r/ though the night be ra'w,
'I'll see him to'o-the first I ever saw.

I knew the ma'n, and knew his nature mild,
And was his pla'y-thing often/ when a child;
But/ somewhat at that mo`ment/ pinched him clo ́se,
E'lse/ he was seldom b'itter or moro'se.

Perhaps his con'fidence just then betrayed,

His grief might prom'pt him/ to the speech he m'ade;
Perhaps 'twas mere good-hu'mour gave it b'irth,
(The harmless play of pleasantry and mirth.)
Howe'er it wa's, his lan'guage (in my m'ind,)
Bespo`ke at least a m'an/ that kn'ew mankind.
But, not to moralize too mu`ch, and stra'in
To prove an evil of which a'll compl'ain,
(I hate long arguments, verbosely sp'un),
One story more, dear Hill, and I have don'e.
Once on a time, an e'mperor, a wise ma'n—
(No matter whe`re, in Chi'na/ or Japa'n)-
Decre'ed/ th'at/ whosoever should off'end/
Against the well-known du ties of a friend,
Convicted on'ce, should ever after we'ar/
But half-a-co'at, and show his b'osom bare.
The punishment importing th'is, (no doubt,)
That a'll was naught within, and a ́ll foun'd-out.
Oh, happy Brit'ain! we have not to fear'/
Such hard and arbitrary measure he're ;
Els'e, could a law like th`at/ which I rela'te/
Once have the san'ction of our triple state',
Some fe'w (that I have known in days of o'ld)
Would run most dreadful r'isk of catching c^old ;*

While you (my friend), whatever wi`nd should blo'w,
Might traverse E'ngland/ safely to and fro',

An honest ma'n, close buttoned to the chin',
Broad cloth with'out, and a warm h ́eart within'.

* We see here the power of emphasis! If "cold" had not required a peculiarly significant turn of the voice (the falling circumflex) it would, agreeably to rule, have had the rising inflection.



WHAT is life, but an o`cean, precarious as th'ose/
Which surround this terraqueous ba'll?
What is m'an, but a ba'rk, often laden with w'oes,
What is death, but the harbour of a'll?

On our pas'sage-to-da`y/ may be mild and serene,
And our loftiest ca'nvass be sho'wn:

While to-morrow/ fierce tempests may blac'ken the sc ́ene,
And our ma'sts by the board/ may be gone.

On life's rosy mo'rn (with a prosperous bre'eze,)
We all our light sa'il/ may displa'y,

With a cloudless horizon/ may sweep at our e'ase,
And of sorrow/ ne'er feel the salt spr'ay;
But/ ere we have reached our mer'idian, the ga ́le,
From the point of ill-for'tune, may blo'w,

And, the su'n of our be'ing (all cheerless and p'ale)
May se't/ in the wild wa'ves of wo`e.

Experience (when bound o'er the turbulent waves)
Remembers that i'lls may ari'se,

And with se'dulous car'e (er'e the danger he braves)
His bark with spare ta'ckle/ suppl'ies.

So you on life's o'cean (with provident m'inds)
Have here a spare an'chor secured,

With whi'ch (in despite of adversity's wi'nds)
The helpless/ will one day be moor'ed.

* When the pronoun you occurs in the nominative case, it is pronounced full and open, so as to rhyme with new; but when in the accusative case, and unemphatic, it must be pronounced as if spelt ye. This observation is likewise applicable to the possessive pronoun your. When in the nominative case, it is pronounced so as to rhyme with fewer; if in the accusative, and unemphatic, it is pronounced as if written yur. This sound of the possessive pronoun your always takes place when it is used to signify any particular species of persons or things, as, your men of the world," &c. &c. My, too, when unemphatic, runs into the familiar sound of me.

The personal pronoun you should likewise, when unemphatic, be pronounced as in the accusative case, when coming after the auxiliary verbs are, were, shall, may, can, &c.

When the strong arm of w'inter/ uplifts the blue ma'in,
And sno'w-storms, and shipwrecks abo ́und;
When hollow-cheeked fa`mine/ inflicts her fell pa'in,
And the swamp/ flings destruction around;
When the folly of rulers/ embroils human kind,
And my riads/ are robbed of their bre ́ath :
This wise Institu`tion/ shall come o'er the m ́ind,
And may soften the pillow of de^ath.

The p'oor/ widowed-mourner-the sweet/ pra'ttling-throng,
The veteran (whose powers are no m'ore)
Shall here find an ar'm/ to defend them from wro'ng,
And to chase meagre w'ant/ from the door.

This is "tempering the w'ind/ to the la'mb newly sho'rn,"
This is following the an't's prudent w'ays;
And, Oh' (blest Instit'ution!) the child ye't unborn
With rapture/ shall lisp forth thy praise.


NOT a drum was hea'rd, not a funeral n'ote,
(As his corse to the ramparts we hurried ;)
Not a soldier dischar'ged/ his farewell sh'ot
O'er the grave/ where our H'ero was bu`ried.
We buried him dar'kly, at dea'd of n'ight,
(The sod with our ba'yonets tu'rning,)

This accomplished general has had few equals. Glasgow has the honour of having been the place of his birth. While little more than thirty, he served with distinguished honour under Sir Ralph Abercrombie, in the West Indies, as Brigadier-General. At the close of the disastrous Peninsular campaign of 1808, by the masterly disposition of his troops at Corunna, he repelled the formidable attack of the French army; in which unequal contest a cannon ball deprived him of his valuable life, and his country of one of her best and bravest generals, in the fortyeighth year of his age. Sir John Moore was the son of Dr. Moore, the distinguished tourist and author of "Zeleuka," " Edward," &c., and brother to the admiral, who died at an advanced age in 1844.

The highly-gifted and amiable writer of this beautiful Ode, which Lord Byron so eloquently and deservedly panegyrized, (while the author was yet unknown) was born in Dublin, and died, in the thirty-second year of his age, at the Cove of Cork, in 1823.

By the struggling moo'n-beams,/ misty light,
And the la'ntern/ dimly burning.

No useless co'ffin/ inclosed hi^s br'east,

Nor in sh ́eet/ nor in shro`ud/ we wound-him;
But he lay like a wa'rrior, taking his r'est,
With his martial cl ́oak/ arou`nd-him.

Few and short were the prayers/ we sa'id,
And we spoke not a wo'rd of sorrow;
But we steadfastly ga'zed on the face of the d'ead,
And we bitterly thought-of the mor'row.
We thought (as we hollowed his narrow b ́ed,
And smoothed down his lo`nely pillow)

That the fo'e and the stran`ger/ would tread o'er his h'ead,
And w'e far away/ on the bil'low.

Lightly they'll talk of the spi'rit/ that's gone,
And o'er his cold a'shes/ upbraid h'im;
And little he'll re'ck (if they let him sleep o'n)
In the gra've/ where a B'riton has laid him!
But half of our heavy task was done,

When the clo`ck/ struck the hour for retiring,
And we heard (by the distant and random g'un)
That the f'oe was suddenly firing.

Slowly and sa'dly we laid him d'own,

(From the field of his fam`e fresh and g'ory) We carved not a lin'e, we raised not a st'one, But we left him alone/ with his glory'.

Lower and slower.



.. .. A

WHEN, to his glorious/ first essay in war,*

New Carthage fe'll; there all the flower oft Spa'in

* We have an instance, in this line, of the absolute power of Rhythmus, or, of alternate emphasis and remission:-" Thesis" (4) indicating the heavy pulsation; and "Arsis," (:) the light; by which power the accent in the noun 66 essay" is changed from the first, to the second syllable, as ·

in the verb.

"Of." This preposition is pronounced as if written uv, except when

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