Such are, perhaps, the ills we oft sustain, Can e'er his murm'ring thoughts subdue with ease, And sooth the sorrows that disturb his rest. Thou God of mercy! hear the earnest pray'r, Thy creature suppliant offers at thy throne; Give heav'nly patience to each child of care, Hush ev'ry grief, and mitigate each groan. Fort-street. J. S. THE HARPER. FROM "6 CAMPBELL'S PLEASURES OF HOPE." ON of See our Literary Review. ) N the green banks of Shannon, when Sheelan was nigh, No blithe Irish lad was so happy as I; No harp like my own could so cheerily play, When at last I was forc'd from my Sheelah to part, She said (while the sorrow was big at her heart), Oh! remember, your Sheelah when far far away; And be kind, my dear Pat, to our poor dog Tray. Poor dog! he was faithful and kind to be sure, And he constantly lov'd me, although I was poor; When the sour-looking folks sent me heartless away, I had always a friend in my poor dog Tray. When the road was so dark, and the night was so cold, And Pat and his dog were grown weary and old, How snugly we slept in my old coat of grey, Though my wallet was scant, I remember'd his case, Nor refus'd my last crust to his pitiful face; But he died at my feet on a cold winter day, Where now shall I go, poor, forsaken, and blind! · CRAZY PAUL. A Parody on the celebrated and popular Song of CRAZY. JANE, and set to the same Tune. WHY HY, dear George, in every feature States are false-you find them so. From that hour his fleet is ready To attack with fire and ball; Cries" Have at thee, Crazy Paul." British tars, so gallant-hearted, Still shall sing the war-lorn ditty, A THE ORPHAN BEGGAR GIRL. S weary I wander, by night and by day, Invited by hope, and pursu'd by despair; Full often I meet the beaut'ous and gay, But they feel not my suff'rings, they heed not my care. And at night, all alone, when the cold winds and rain, Beat remorseless against this poor shelterless breast I petition the great-they reply with disdain, I give them my blessing they leave me unblest. Ah! none think of me, for my parents are dead, My money is gone, and my friends are all flown; In solitude born, and in penury bred, I'm doom'd thus regardless to wander alone. Yon house, where the taper diffuses its light, The gay, and the affluent revel in wine; But they dream not of sorrow, where there's such delight, They feel no misfortunes-they think not of mine. Ah! fluttering heart, why so nimbly thus beat, Death alone is thy friend, and he'll soon set thee free. Then ye proud, and ye wealthy, go take your dull joys, You must quickly this scene, with its pleasures re sign! We may yet meet again, where no sorrows annoys, Wolverhampton, CIVIS SONG, IN THE CAKE-HOUSE; By Mr. DIBDIN. ANNA, ANN, NAN, NANCE AND NANCY. Y love's a vessel trim and gay, M Rigg'd out with truth, and stor'd with honoar; As through life's sea she cuts her way, The lucky shipwright's love and fancy, So well she stems the dangerous trouble, Her form's so grand, her air's so noble. The breeze her milk-white bosom filling, I call her Nance, my bosom thrilling. By whate'er name comes o'er my fancy; ALMERIA; OR, THE PENITENT. Being a genuine Epistle from an Unfortunate Daughter in -------, to her Family in the Country. (See page 227 of this Number.) WITHDRAWN from on, and the snares of vice, ITHDRAWN from all temptations that entice, From all that can inspire unchaste delight, My blushes burn me, and my tears o'erflow; Strikes the fine nerve, and gives me up to shame; Write, write I must, each hope, each fear declare, Yet where, oh where, shall I the tale begin, |