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“ Is there no road but by those gibbets ?”
“ No road,” the woman replied. “ But tho' with the wind each murderer swings « They both of them. are harmless things,
“ And so are the ravens beside." « What are these ravens there?--those creatures
« That are so black and blue ! “ But are they ravens? I enquire, « For I have heard by winter's fire, ." That phantoms the dead pursue." The woman replied, “ They are night-ravens
“ That pick the dead-men's eyes; 66 And they cry qua, with their hollow jaw; “ Methinks I one this moment saw !
“To the banquet at hand he fies. 6. Now fare thee well !” The traveller, filent,
Whilf terror consumed his soul,
At the brim of oblivion's bowl.
The black men waved in the air ;
For he determin'd not to fear.'
To fear where no danger is found !
He trembled, and could not look round. · He gallop'd away! the spirit pursued !
And the murderers' irons they screak!
Tho' neither have courage to speak.
Now both on the verge of the common arrive,
Were a gate the free passage denied ;
The mouth of the spirit did glide.
Gallop'd falt from the being he fear’d;
And more luminous now it appear’d!
« I can neither look round or go on;
“ Speak! speak! or my sense will be gone !
“ Is it thee? I'll beat thy bones bare.
CITELTO. The Tempest is a beautiful little piece, not wholly unlike Beactie's Hermit in point of sentiment :
THE TEMPEST. « The tempeft has darken'd the face of the skies,
The winds whistle wildly across the waste plain, The fiends of the whirlwind terrific arise,
And mingle the clouds with the white-foaming main. All dark is the night and all gloony the shore,
Save when the red lightnings the ether divide, Then follows the thunder with loud sounding roar,
And echoes in concert the billowy tide. i But tho' now all is murky and shaded with gloom,
Hope the soother soft whispers the tempeits shall cease; Then nature again in her beauty shall bloom,
And enamoured embrace the fair sweet-smiling peacc.
For the bright-blushing morning all rosy with light
Shall convey on her wings the Creator of day,
And nature enlivened again shall be gay.
And again the bright flowret shall blush in the dale;
And the sun-beam shall ficep on the hill and the dale. . If the tempefts of nature so soon link to rest,
If her once faded beauties so foon glow again,
By the tempests of passion, of sorrow, and pain
When the troublesome fever of life shall be o'er;
And passion and sorrow shall vex him no more.
Like the night of the tempest again pass away ;
The few locks that are left you are grey;
Now tell me the reason I pray.
I remember'd that youth would fly fast,
That I never might need them at last.
And pleasures with youth pass away;
Now tell me the reason, I pray.
In the days of my youth, Father William replied,
I remember'd that youth could not last;
That I never might grieve for the past.
And life must be hastening away;
Now tell me the reason I pray ?
Let the cause thy attention engage;
And He hath not forgotten my age.”
Many other pleasing pieces might have been selected, but sufficient has been extracted to convince the judg. ment, and taste of the editor, and to thew the reader that the perusal of the whole collection will administer to his instruction and entertainment. The second volume, we understand, is in the press.
Poems and Plays by Mrs. Weft, Author of a Tale of
the Times, a Golip's Story, &C. 2 vols. Longman and Rees. THIS ingenious lady has afforded us entertainment
and instruction in the perufal of her volumes; though we do not affign her the first rank among the female writers of the day. There is, however, much to commend ; and our readers will, upon the whole, be pleased with her effusions.
The comedy is entitled How will it End ? nor can we perceive why it should have been rejected. The same may be remarked of the Tragedy - Adela; but the authoress now appeals to an impartial public. Her Elegies and Sonnets contain many just thoughts, well expressed. We, are, however, moft gratified with the
Ode on Poetry, in four partsClasics, Uncultivated, Sacred, and British. Under each of which heads a number of pleasing articles are detailed and illustrated. The British departinent closes with these two animated ftanzas. The Genius of Poetry thus exclaims :
6 Go tell my ardent youths who pant ,