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And now the letter'd present prest

With awful tremblings to her breast.

Instant the youths pursued their way:
She dar'd not press their further stay.

Faster than time my story goes.

'Tis Fancy's bufiness to suppose

One of our youths in ermin’d state,

Now temp’ral minister of fate.

A culprit to the bar was brought,
Who wonders strange by magic wrought,
Who folks could cure, or keep diseas’d,

By dint of words, whene’er she pleas’d.

“ Herself was once infirm, but still

She seems to lengthen life at will.

Behold, my Lord, the spell; tis here

To touch the cursed scroll I fear.”

« Peace, Sirs, and urge your charge no more,

For thus I quash her magic pow'r ;

(He, (He, smiling, faid) to me she owes

Whate'er of spells and charms she knows;

Woman, behold your guest in me,

Who taught this art, if art it be."

S RELIGION AND INFIDELITY.

OW fhone o'er heav'n the beams of dawning day,

Now

And mounting larks had sung their matin lay,

When from a wood, with wild irregular hafte,

A female rush'd, and cross'd the trackless waste;

Fair seem'd her form, but frantic was her air;

Her robe, her tresses, torn, betray'd despair.

She started, stopt; her languid eye-balls stream’d
With tears ; and now with sullen anger gleam'd.
Again with wayward step she fought the shade,

Where a deep brook in lonely windings stray’d.

Here,

Ś See the Adventurer, No. 77.

Here, on the willowy marge, she paus’d and cry’d,

" Dread Pow'r, if any pow'r in heav'n abide,

“ That deigns to mark what mortals feel below;

“ Take, take thy hated gift, a life of woe.

“ Has heav’n these passions with our souls ally'd,

« Yet bids fad Ruin wait at Error's side ?

« The love of right, a father's constant theme, « Still warms my breast, tho' wrung with guilt and

shame;

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My grief-worn heart still bows at Virtue's shrine,

“ Still bends my will to Reason's rule divine :

“ Yet, where was Reason's, where was Virtue’s aid?

“ I lov’d, was lov'd; I trusted, was betray'd.

For this my name is toss’d on vulgar tongues, “ My fame all blasted, though unknown my wrongs. “ Friendless I rove; yet heav’n is pleas’d to shed « Its gayeft funshine on the perjur'd head.

« Com

« Complaints how vain! why does this life blood flow?

“Why throbs this pulfe, to wake my heart to woe? “ I go to still this anguish of the breast

« Be Death's cold arms my refuge and my rest.”

“ Ah! stop, (a voice exclaim’d) in ruin brave, « Rafhly you dare the terrors of the grave.”

Instant, a stranger sprung upon her view,

And from the brink her trembling footsteps drew.

« O lady! bow your soul to heav’n’s high will,

• Who scourges human pride with human ill.

“ If Reason, Reason only, were your trust, “ Well might you call man faultless, heav'n unjust ; « If Reason only lent her glimın’ring ray, « Well might the groveling slave of passion stray.

« But heav'n unfolds the steadier beams of grace,

“ And guides, through fin's dark night, our feet to

peace.

Аа

« Ah !

" Ah ! quench not then its beams in black despair.

“ God hears the heart-felt sigh and humble pray’r. « Oh! come with me, to prove Religion's pow'r,

“ How smiles the faint in mis’ry's saddest hour."

Thus as he spoke, the pious man had led

The mourner to his neat, but humble shed.

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« Behold, (he cry'd) to pain and grief a prey,

My dearest spouse fast sinking to decay. « Childless, her bury'd offspring she deplores;

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« A cancer now her feeble frame devours;

« Too ill our scanty means her wants supply,

« The nurse's care, and physic's aid deny.

" Yet mark, her breast no fretful murmur moves ;

« The Pow'r that wounds her, she adores and loves."

« Oh! teach me, teach me (the fair sceptic cry’d)
« Those healing truths ; be heav'n, and you, my guide;

« Teach

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