Poetry.

ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF MRS. M

OF D

O! weave the cypress wreath, ye muses, weave
The wreath elegiac, for Matilda's hearse ;
O! if benignant ye did e'er receive

Thy suppliant's vow, inspire her mournful verse.
Ah! little thought I, when my early lyre
With few and simple chords I did attune,
Matilda's virtues should its lays inspire,
Or wake its artless symphonies so soon.
Weak tho' it be, and all untaught my hand
To touch its little octaves rudely wild;
Unsung thou shalt not to the grave descend,
Meek Virtue's daughter! Sorrow's hapless child!

The ties maternal that entwin'd thy heart
With stronger bands than molten brass could form,
Too soon were sever'd by the fateful dart,
That made thy babes companions of the worm.

No more the rosy cherubs on thy breast,
Lull'd by thy murmur'd song, securely lie;
But all beneath the clay-cold sod they rest,
The rustling breeze their only lullaby

*

O! to a mother's heart, a mother's love,

Rude seems the breeze, and chill the summer gale
Ev'n hope, and faith, and revelation, prove,
Yes, for a moment prove, of light avail.

Ye who have never felt a mother's joy,

Have never known a mother's poignant fears;
The stoic smile of cold contempt employ
To chase the visionary's burning tears.

But ye, whom Nature, with a lavish zeal,

Grac'd at your birth with Feeling's sacred charm,
O'er your blanch'd cheek th’unbidden tear will steal;
Matilda's virtues will your bosoms warm.

Let those who list, in wild Ovidian strain,
Cythera's charms and Bacchus' rites extol,
Their furtive joys deplore in lasting pain,
Or drown their senses in the purple bowl.
A chaster theme the muse will never scorn,
Ne'er scorn to sing of love's maternal ties,
Which from the tend'rest, softest feelings born,
Lives with her life, nor with her being dies.

No wild, irregular, impetuous fires,
Struck from a glance, or lighted by an eye,
The mother's breast with passion's blaze inspires,
To wreck her peace, or bid her reason fly.

Her' is the pure, the steadfast, vestal flame,

No blast can quiver, and no time consume;

Darkness

Grief for the death of her children was supposed to have brought on the con umption of which she died.

Darkness and death shall find it still the same,
Or burning brighter near its object's tomb.

Then on the turf, where now Matilda lies,

I'll strew the flowers of mournful elegy,

Well pleas'd her shade will catch my pensive sighs,
And hear, well pleas'd, my simple poesy.

-, August 22. 1810.

M. G.

[The following Verses were written on a Flower plucked from the grave of a Lady, who, in the bloom of youth and beauty, and in the possession of every comfort which affluence can bestow, died of a consumption, after many months of suffering, with patience, resignation, and fortitude. By a Youth turned of fourteen.]

SWEET flow'ret! lovely was thy bloom
Upon the beauteous Jy's tomb,
When blasted by no tempest's gloom,

Thou rear'd thy head,

Where she, by Heav'n's almighty doom,
Sleeps with the dead!

Short was thy season, charming flow'r,
While water'd by each summer shower,
Thou smil'd in beauty's witching pow'r,
Thou modest gem.

But now thou'rt wither'd in an hour,
Pluck'd from thy stem.

Sweet emblem art thou, fair, forlorn,
Of her whose, grave thou did❜st adorn.
Fairer was she than rising morn,

Or flow'ret gay;

But now, from life's vain tumult torn,

She's sped away.

STANZAS on the BANKS of TAY. By a SERJEANT of MARINES.

By Grampia's tow'ring mountains high,
Whose rocky summits skirt the sky,
Wild rolls the queen of Scotia's floods,
Adorn'd by Atholl's ancient woods,
Along whose winding walks, in spring,
-While flocks of feather'd songsters sing-
At peep of dawn, how sweet to stray!
Adown the bonny banks of Tay.

There

There summer's sun, with golden gleams,
Gilds mountain-tops, the woods, and streams;
There, chas'd by his all-piercing_ray,
The wreaths of white mist wheel away,
Disclosing wide romantic scene;-
The woods all cloth'd in foliage green,
High waving o'er the wild rocks grey,
Beside the bonny banks of Tay.
Enchanting scenes! how oft in view,
To fancy's eye, fresh-blooming, new;
My dearest hope's t' enjoy again,
With those few friends who still remain;
-And friendship's string and sacred ties,
And true love's flame that never dies,-
Endearing themes! some distant day,
To sing along the banks of Tay.
When thund'ring war shall cease to roar,
On haughty Gallia's humbled shore;
When Britain's great ambitious foe,
Is by her pow'rful arm laid low;
When lasting peace shall bless our isle,
And o'er the cot and palace smile,
To Scotia's hills I'll bend my way,
And hail with joy the banks of Tay.

THE ROSE: By ANN MARIA AINSLIE.
Written at the age of 14.

As through a garden late I rov'd,
And musing walk'd along,

While list'ning to the blackbird's note,

Or linnet's cheerful song;

Around were flowers of various hues;
The pink and daisy pied;

When, in the centre of a grove,

A blushing rose I 'spied.

Eager to pluck the beauteous flower,
I quickly hasten'd there;

Securely in my bosom plac'd,

And watch'd with tender care.

Its fragrant odours grateful were,

And pleasant to the sense;

Its leaves with brightest colours glow'd,
Like virgin innocence.

But, lo! ere ev'ning dews descend,
Those beauteous tints were fled;
Wither'd and blasted in their prime,
It droop'd its head, and died.
Sweet blossom! then I, sighing, said,
How soon thy beauties fly!
The fairest flower the garden knows
With thee could never vie.

Be thou my silent monitor,
And warn my heedless youth,
To follow true Religion's path
In piety and truth:

That

That while youth's transient charms decay,
Those of the mind remain,

Which, like the polish'd shining ore,
Their lustre still retain.

For outward charms of shape or face
Soon wither like the rose;

But virtue only is the source

From whence true pleasure flows.

LINES written on a Tomb-stone in the West Church Yard, Edinburgh. ELIZA DUNBAR,

Wife of Captain Tod, late of the 40th regiment,

Died 224 January 1804, aged 24 years.`

Aн, whither fled! ye dear illusions stay!
Lo, pale and silent lies the lovely clay.
How are the roses on that cheek decay'd,
Which late the purple light of youth display'd!
Health on her form each sprightly grace bestow'd;
With life and youth each speaking feature glow'd.
Fair was the blossom, soft the vernal sky;
Elate with hope, we deem'd no tempest nigh;
When, lo, a whirlwind's instantaneous gust
Left all its beauties withering in the dust.

Ar the union 1707, the number of Scotish peers on the rolls of parliament amounted to 153. That number, by different causes, has now (1810) diminished to 81; and of these 24 are British peers, and four peeresses, leaving only 53 to be represented in the British parliament by the

sixteen.

The number of peers in Scotland at the union was nearly equal to those of England, while its population was not above one-fifth, nor its property, in point of value, above one-thirtieth part of the adjoining kingdom. To introduce the Scotish peers in a body to seats in the British house of

lords

lords was therefore impossible; to create a certain number of peers on the list to be sitting peers seemed unjust: no other method occurred but to elect representatives in imitation of the commons, which, however, was a glaring solecism, and incompatible with the nature of peerage.

A Scotish nobleman, in a speech intended to have been delivered by him at the general election October 1780, and afterwards printed, takes great pains to prove that it would be a much fairer and more eligible plan to return the Scotish peers to the British parliament by ROTATION, according to seniority of title, and taking a proportionable number of each rank; as by this means, particularly, the undue influence of administration in elections would be completely avoided, and the select body of Scotish peers rendered more independent and respectable.

HINTS ON THE LANCASTRIAN SYSTEM OF EDUCATION.
To the Editor.

SIR-I observed in your two last numbers some remarks on Mr Lancaster's plan of education. As I think very highly of that plan, I beg leaye to offer a few hints on the possibility of introducing it into this city, without much expense to the inhabitants. It would be greatly to their honour to have such an institution, where the proportion of the poor is perhaps as great as in any part of the kingdom. The people here are at very great trouble and expense to have their children educated in the polite accomplishments, viz. drawing, music, dancing, and the languages; while, in some cases, they scarcely know plain English, or common arithmetic, which they ought to have a thorough knowledge of before they engage with any other thing. Were a person intended for the church or the law, in these they cannot be dispensed with; or, if intended for a foreign merchant's office, the French or German may be of service; but Latin, Hebrew, or Greek, are of no more use for one intended for a warehouse in the home trade, than they are to the slaves in the West Indies. Now, I would advise parents to teach their children to speak the English language fluently, and make them good arithmeticians; with these they might get through the world. Drawing and dancing are useful accomplishments; they might have a little of each, provided their parents can afford it; but there are many who get into business in this city with very small capitals, who, as soon as they acquire a little money, begin to spend it in the manner above described. Now, supposing the inhabitants were to give their children a plain but good education, which would not cost one-half of what they now give them, they could then devote the other half to the support of a school on the Lancastrian system, which would be infinitely more advantageous both for their children and the community at large, by the diffusion of seful knowledge amongst the lower orders of society. I am, &c.

A CONSTANT READER.

MISCELLANEOUS INFORMATION,

THE ISLE OF BOURBON, OR BONAPARTE.

BOURBON is an island in the Indian Ocean, about 20 leagues long and 16 broad. It was first discovered by the Portugueze, who called it Mascareique, or Mascarenhas; other Europeans called it St Apollonion; till, in the year 1654, M. Flancourt, governor of the French settlements in Maclagascar, took possession of it, and called it Bourbon. There are many good roads for shipping round the island, particularly on the north and south sides, but hardly a single harbour where the ships can ride secure against those hurricanes which blow during the monsoons. Indeed the coast is so surrounded with rocks sunk a few feet below the water, that entrance into the harbour, at least coasting along the shore, is at all times dangerous. On

the