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His nerves, all trembling with the glad surprise,
To heaven he stretch'd his hands, and rais'd his eyes.

And then, -I thank thee, Mahomet!-he said,
Hither, by thy divine direction led.
Sounds struck Cornaro's ear he ought to know,
And wak'd him from his dismal trance of wo.
He saw the Turk prepar'd for his embrace,
Mark'd the warm transport gleaming in his face,
Cornaro saw the slave he once set free,
And cry'd aloud-Great God of Hosts!-"tis He!

Then, folded in each other's arms they stood,
And words were lost in joy's o'erwhelming flood.
The Turk, at length, recovering, rear'd his head,
And now,-he said,-my mighty debt is paid;
Which, wert thou not the slave I now survey,
Peruvian mines were much too poor to pay.

To the man-merchant, then, he stretch'd his hand, And take,-he said, - whate'er thy wants demand; Quick, set my friend, and his companion free; Name thou the price, unbartering, I agree. The ransom'd home he led, in bounteous state, His swelling soul with god-like joy elate, Resembling that which fill'd El-Shaddai's breast When Adam in his paradise he placed.

His lofty hall, with richest sofas grac'd, His wives, his children, in due order placed; Such was bis will though hidden his intent, Sate with mute wonder, waiting the event. Among them all he, then, Cornaro led, And wip'd away a tear of joy;then said, Ye of my licens'd bed, ye partners fair, Who my divided love, yet equal, share; And ye, the issue of our honest joys, If aught my words avail, ye generous boys; My children, and my wives, to whom I ne'er, But, by my dismal exile, caus'd a tear; If, in my absence, ye not falsely mourn’d, If your vast joy was true when I return'd; If Allah saw you, without guile, rejoice, And our dread prophet heard your real voice; Now, more adore Him,--prostrate praise His pow'r, Admire his bounty's unexhausted store; But now, from chains I freed the captive's hands, And here, Cornaro, my deliverer stands.

All prostrate at that sacred name they fell, How touch'd, true Gratitude, alone, can tell;

True Gratitude, that dictated their joy,
Smilod in each cheek, and spoke in every eye.
The Moslem saw, with joy, the pleasing scene,
The heart-felt throb thrill'd warm through every vein;
Their gratitude his inmost soul approv’d,
Which loudly told how much himself was lov’d.
Now haste, he said, -the sumptuous feast ~!

My wives to deck the banquet be your care, As if great Ottoman, himself, were there! For know, th’ imperial Crescent’s sacred flame, Cannot more homage, than Cornaro, claim. - And you, my sons, whate'er my ward-robes boast, Whate’er of gold, or gems, I have of cost, For him bring forth. But, why that down-cast eye? That cheek yet pale, and that still heaving sigh! Freedom thou hast;-and whate'er wealth can give, Is my blest task;-thine only, to receive. Cornaro blush'd and sigh’d, and would have spoke, But as he strove, sobs still his accents broke; The uncle saw, yet silent, his distress, And, what Cornaro could noto-ventur'd to express. He told the tale of love, the fair pourtray’d, Pencil'd the semblance of the blue-ey’d maid, Ere this, perhaps, some Turk's abandon'd prey, - Torn, ever torn, from her lov'd lord away; Her liege lord doom'd no other bliss to prove, Than life, and horror, if berest of love. The Moslem, sorrowing, heard the fatal tale, Fearing his utmost bounty, here, must fail; Fearing, he never could the maid restore, Victim, ere this, of some rude tyrant's power; Ere this conceal’d in some embowering grove, Where lust usurps the sacred name of love. Some close Seraglio's gloom, from whose dark bourne, No maid did e'er inviolate return. But as this thought perplex’d his lab’ring brain, And Hope to cheer his heart still toil'd in vain, The elder blessing of his fruitful bed, His son, all sudden smil’d, and cheering said, Thee first, Creator, Allah! I adore, Untrac'd, mysterious, wonder-working power; How can thy lowest servant’s untried noon Of useless life deserve so vast a boon? Behush'd all griefs, and open every ear, And my words, chiefly, let Cornaro hear; --Vol. IV. 3 K

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And let my sire his generous offspring own,
While I, not vainly, boast I am his son.
If my exulting soul aright divine,
To make Cornaro bless'd is only mine;
Within these walls now droops the pictur'd fair,
Chaste yet as snow, and pure as noontide air;
Haste, then, ye slaves, 0 haste, and quick return
With the fair Christian that I bought this morn.

Return'd;-Delphina bless'd their eager eyes,
And fill'd each throbbing heart with wild surprise.
Then, thus, the Moslem's son, with manly air,
As to her loyal lord he led the blushing fair:

My friend!—in this bless'd moment, be it mine,
Taught by thyself, to show a soul like thine;
A soul, that strives e'en with Cornaro's worth,
Forgive the vaunt;—for virtue sends it forth.
By Mecca's sacred temple here I swear,
In thy gay paradise, great prophet, hear!
Were all the treasure here, before my sight,
That filled Damascu's plains with glittering light,
When, in full triumph, furious Caled rode,
And bath'd the Syrian sword in Grecian blood;
Should some great sultan say—this maid resign,
And the whole wealth of all the East is thine;
From him, unhesitating would I turn,
And look upon the paltry bribe with scorn.
With maddening gaze such beauty we survey,
Which virtue, only, in exchange can pay.
'Tis thee bright goddess, Virtue, I pursue,
To thy bright beams I lift th’aspiring view;
Thus prostrate, thy ennobling power I own,
And sacrifice my passions at thy throne.

So saying,-with a smile their hands he join'd,
And his rich prize, with deep-drawn sighs, resign'd.
Virtue was pleas'd, and own'd in heav'n above,
How deeds, like these, e'en gods with pleasure move.

What joy the raptur'd lovers' souls possess'd, What conscious pleasure touch'd the father's breast, How all around their vast delight express'd, Lest, in th' attempt, the fault'ring muse prove weak, Let children, parents, lovers, Virtue, speak!

FOR THE MIRROR OF TASTE.
Mr.R. EDITOR,

Casting my eyes over an old periodical publication, called “The Universal Weekly Chronicle,” and printed in London considerably more than fifty years ago, I was attracted by the following essay, which I think so replete with pleasant description, good sense, and just observation, and so very good a hint to fathers and mothers, that I thought I could not offer you a communication more likely to be agreeable to your readers, and useful to the public, and therefore have copied it off for you. I have my mind's eye at this moment on several worthy families who, as well as their visiters,

would be greatly benefited by applying it to themselves, and correcting their paternal conduct by it.

—In vitium libertas excidit et vim Dignam lege regi. Ho R. SIR, I AM engaged in a visit at a friend's house in the country, where I promised myself much satisfaction. I have however been greatly disappointed in my expectations; for on my arrival here, I found a house full of children, who are humoured beyond measure, and indeed absolutely spoiled by the ridiculous indulgence of a fond mother. This unlucky circumstance has subjected me to many inconveniences; and as I am a man of a grave reserved disposition, has been a perpetual source of embarrassment and perplexity. The second day of my visit, in the midst of dinner, the eldest boy, who is eight years old, whipped off my perriwig with great dexterity, and received the applause of the table for his humour and spirit. This lad, when he has reached his fourteenth year, and is big enough to lie without the maid, is to be sent to a school in the neighbourhood, which has no other merit than that of being but seven miles off. Six of the children are permitted to sit at table, who entirely monopolize the wings of fowls, and the most delicate morsels of every dish; because the mother has discovered, that her children have not strong stomachs. In the morning, before my, friend is up, I generally take a turn upon the gravel-walk, where I could wish to enjoy my own thoughts without interruption; but I am here instantly attended by my little tormentors, who follow me backwards and forwards, and play at what they call running after the gentleman. My whip, which was a present from an old friend, has been lashed to pieces by one of the boys who is fond of horses, and the handle is turned into a hobbyhorse. The main

spring of my repeating-watch has been broke in the mursery, which, at the mother's request, I had lent to the youngest boy, who was just breeched, and who cried to wear it. The mother's attention to the children entirely destroys all conversation: and once, as an amusement for the evenings, we attempted to begin reading Tom Jones, but were interrupted in the second page by little Sammy, who is suffered to whip his top in the parlour. I am known to be troubled with violent head-aches; notwithstanding which, another of the boys, without notice given, or any regard paid to the company, is permitted to break out into the braying of an ass, for which the strength of his lungs is commended; and a little miss, at breakfast, is allowed to drink up all the cream, and put her fingers into the sugar-dish, because she was once sickly. I am teased with familiarities, which I can only repay with a frown; and pestered with the petulance of ludicrous prattle, in which I am unqualified to join. It is whispered in the family, that I am a mighty good sort of a man, but that I cannot talk to children. Nor am I the only person who suffers from this folly: a neighbouring clergyman, of great merit and modesty, and much acquainted in the family, has received hints to forbear coming to the house, because little Sukey always cries when she sees him, and has told her mamma, she can't bear that ugly parson.

Mrs. Qualm, my friend's wife, the mother of this hopeful offspring, is perpetually breeding; or rather her whole existence is spent in a series of pregnancies, lyings-in, visitings, churchings, and christenings. Every transaction of her life is dated from these occurrences. The grandmother, and the man-midwife, a serious sensible man, constantly reside in the house, to be always ready on these solemn occasions. She boasts, that no family has ever sent out more numerous advertisements for nurses with a fine breast of milk. As her longings have of late been in the vegetable way, the garden is cultivated for this purpose alone, and totally filled with forward peas, and melon-glasses, in hopes that she may luckily long for what is at hand. She preserves, to the utmost, the prerogative of frequent pregnancy, and conscious of the dignity and importance of being often big, exerts an absolute authority over her husband. He was once a keen fox-hunter, but has long ago dropped his hounds; his wife having remonstrated, that his early rising disturbed the family unseasonably, and having dreamed, that he broke his leg in leaping a ditch.

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