The latter departed this life on the

13th day of October, 1791, In a voyage undertaken for the benefit of her health,

In his Majesty's ship Diana,

The former, on the 19th of the following

month,

The third week after the melancholy
return of the Diana,

With the remains of his beloved Consort, Whom he seemed unwilling to survive, And with whom he was deposited in the same grave.

Thus, united in their lives
By the most tender and exalted ties,
He-the fond and indulgent Husband,
She-the cheerful and obedient Wife;
In their deaths they were not divided!

To perpetuate the remembrance
Of so illustrious a pattern of conjugal
affection :

To manifest the public sense Of the many public and private virtues of their Governor;

And to record, for the benefit of posterity,
The clearness of that sagacity,
The extent of that knowledge,
And the purity and firmness of that inte-
grity, which rendered his administration
The boast and security of a grateful people,

The Assembly of JAMAICA, Having caused the remains of this noble and lamented pair to be interred with funeral honours

At the public expence, the whole house
Attending each procession as Mourners,
As a farther testimony of esteem,
Inscribe this Monument.

29. In the choir of the High Church of
Glasgow,
1605.

Heir. ar. bureit. Sr.
Waltir. Sr. Thomas. Sr.
Ihone. Sr. Robert. Sr.
Ihone. and Sr. Mathev.
by lineal. descent.
to. vtheris. barons.
and.knichis. of. the.
hovs. of. Minto. wt.
thair. viffis. bairnis.
and. bretherein.

40. In the choir of the High Church of

Glasgow.

To the memory
of

William Crichton, A.M.
Student of Theology

in the University of Glasgow,
This Stone,
The Spontaneous Tribute

A glorious star he'll rise, and bright display

His well-earn'd lustre in eternal day.

Glasgow, Jan. 1809.

Lo

GLENCOE MASSACRE.

OUD o'er the hill the tempest roars,
Loud o'er the steep the torrent pours,
Adown the snowy dale ;-

Yet louder far was heard below,
The lamentable voice of wo,
In Glencoe's gloomy vale!—

Loud roars the spirit of the storm,

On rending, roaring, whirlwinds borne,
And whistling flies the heath;
But nor the ruthless tempests' rave,
Nor loudest fury of the wave,

Nor storms fierce pouring from the north,
Was half so loud, as howling forth,
Approach'd the ghost of death!

Fair rose the sun on Glencoe vale,
And fair he smil'd on Glencoe vale,
And fair, he sought the wave;
But e'er he burst the gates of day,
Sweet Glencoe vale wild scatter'd lay,
One wide extended grave!

And murmuring to the nightly beam,'
Slow winding moved the valley stream,
A silver chrystal flood;

But e'er the star of morning came,
It roaring tore its once sweet scene,
And rolling roar'd with rapid force,
Along its wonted lovely course,
A roaring stream of blood!

Night now had drawn her sable veil,
O'er half the world, while Luna pale,
Gaz'd on the earth beneath;
The toil-worn hinds to sleep betake,
A sleep from which they ne'er should
wake,

But in the arms of death!

The unsheath'd poignard waits th' alarm,
And murder rears her treacherous arm,
To seek the victim's heart;
The crackling beams ascend on high,
Sires, husbands, mothers, children die,
All points of kindred carnage ly,

A thousand groans are heard!

The vaulted cliffs rebound the cries,
Of thousands sunk ne'er more to rise,
: To death's dark kingdom driven;
Death raises all his voices round,
The hills give back the dismal sound,
The ghosts of night on ether borne,
Encrease the roaring of the storm,
And rend the vault of heaven.

New rillets formed of blood burst round,
And tremble o'er the trembling ground,
And crimson all the plain;

The mothers' shrieks, the childrens' cries,
The fathers groans, the husbands' sighs!
The scream terrific of the owl,

The lightnings flash, the thunders roll,
Death's horrid chorus join!

Death's done his worst, the deed is done;
Now groans are dying all around,
Now calm's the bloody wave;
While from the north the driving sleet
Pelts heedless on the sons of fate,
The clotted gore's their winding sheet,
The drifted snow their grave!

The morning rose on Glencoe vale,
But night remained in Glencoe vale,
Their sun had ever set:

The ravens wade from shore to shore,
O'er hills of slain, thro' seas of gore,
Or off on bloody pinions bore,
The horrid tale relate.*

Ah! who can hear, or who can tell
The bloody deed, the mournful tale,
Without one feeling tear?

Each homely roof, a grave the while!
Each rural cot, a funeral pile!
"Each bed, a bloody bier!-

behind,

away,

Till, cruel thought! stern fate must call
And wake to duties of the passing day;
Whilst the sweet incense of melodious song
Ascended soft, the banner'd pomp among,
From her bright eyes a soft expression stole,.
The solemn choirs a tender form impart,>
That moulds, to harmony the ductile soul;
And press it more angelic to the heart;
But, torn from these, to chase the closing
Falt'ring and hapless, far he bends his way,
day,
Yet, as he pass'd amid the verdant fields,
Where learning taught him all the joys she
yields,

The friendly mead a heavier aspect wore,
And thought embitter'd every sigh the

more;

Fir'd at the keen reflection few can scan,
He own'd the lover, and forgot the man;
"Yes, can I wish such boyhood to resign?
If e'er a hope, I love to call it mine;
And shall illusion wish me to disprove?
Discretion starts, but Virtue calls it love;
I'll on, nor as I quit yon blest abode,
Feign heartfelt sighs, or tears that never
flow'd;

But, in the temple of my ardent mind,
That imag'd form shall ever live enshrin'd,
Till summer soon again his tide shall roll,
And smile propitious on a sever'd soul,
Yet are the vows to such affection due,
Still breath'd; for love that ceases, ne'er

I've tore,

And Rome shall the seat of the arts be no

more.

The youths thou exported to cull her chcice things,

No more from that city rare specimen brings, And thou of thyself can'st impart nothing great,

T' enliven the stuff in an Islander's pateThy lands in the midst of a large briny pool,

That freezes his fingers, and keeps his heart cool.

And fancy, which ever was friendly to France,

Has said she will never with islanders dance;

So hand over quickly that dear evergreen, To bind round the brow of the arts studded queen.

To whom the brave lass of the island replied,

Thy right to the shrub I have ever denied, And tho' thou hast rob'd the fam'd city of lore,

Thou'st just the same bee in thy head as before;

For me, while I look round my brine circl'd land,

I feel my heart warming, and strength in my hand,

The stuff that is lodg'd in my strong upper

storey,

Believe me, shall prove Britain's pride and her glory;

The fire of the arts like enchantment I've spread,

The glow of the mountain and valley is red, The centre exhibits, in matchless array, The circle's enlighten'd and beams as the day;

Behold now as London, Edina can boast, Tho' not as she, numberless, still yet a host All burning with ardour to rival old Rome, Aspiring to rise, while she sinks in her tomb. Then prithee bright queen of the arts hold a bit,

I'll keep a firm grasp of the evergreen yet, Which grows up spontaneous 'midst fo rests of oak,

A shelter secure from the rude tempest's shock;

So take thy dear chum, frisking fancy so gay, With tabor and cymbals and foot it away,What care for dancing, which jumbles

i

the brain,

soar with the arts, or I dash thro' the main,

Should the last yield me nought, from the heavens I bring, The dew that bespangles and nurtures in spring,

What though thou with gems be bestudded all o'er,

Thou dar'st not approach to our rock-studded shore,

Our arts are secure, though thy tyrant In war or in science our island is great; should threat, So peep at the laurel and pluck if thou can, 'Tis twin'd with the rose and the thistle in one;

The rose and the thistle, in unison shall, Th' invaders of Britain for ever repel, The sun of Britannia our artists shall nourish, And her south and her north for ever shall flourish. Edinburgh, 22d May 1809.

}

VERSES ON SPRING.

COME sweet restorer of the year,

D. T.

Come put thy gayest liv'ry on, At thy command the flow'rs appear, And winter's icy rule is gone. Behold him fly with all his train, Gloomy and fierce to regions drear, Where thou, sweet Spring, ne'er trod'st the plain,

But Winter ever rules the year.

Of late, no blackbird's mellow note
Resounded thro' the leafless grove,
Nor ceaseless from the turtle's throat
Was heard the tender tale of love.
No primrose sweet nor daisy fair
Come forth to deck the wither'd lawn,
No lark pois'd on the fields of air,
Announc'd the chearful morning dawn,
Arrested in its winding course,
But winter froze each genial source,
No gurgling rill was seen to stray,
And nature languish'd in decay.
But thou appear'st, delightful Spring
Clad in thy robes of sweetest green;
The groves again with music ring,
The balmy air is all serene.

Releas'd, the murm'ring streamlets run,
The wild flow'rs deck the verdant plain,
And foster'd by the genial sun,
Nature triumphant smiles again.

M. F.C.

PRO

HOUSE OF COMMONS.

CHARGES AGAINST THE DUKE OF YORK.

Monday Feb. 6.

COLONEL FRENCH'S LEVY,

THE House having again resolved into a

Committee to consider further of the charges against the Duke of York, the examination of witnesses was continued.--The extreme length of the printed minutes, which form a large volume, prevents us from giving, in the limited space allotted for our parliamentary department, any thing more than the following concise abstract of the evidence :

The second witness called was Mr Corri. He stated that Capt. Sanden was introduced to him by Mr Cockayne, who told the Captain that Mr Corri knew a lady who possessed influence in the War-Office.-Captain Sanden said he would give 20001, for her assistance. Mr Corri spoke to Mrs Clarke on the subject, who said that she could do it, but that it was a very difficult matter, and she could recommend only persons of character: That in June 1804, he got a bill from Capt. Sanden for 2001.; that he put his name upon it, and then gave it to Mr Cockayne; that he destroyed some papers in 1804 at the request of Mrs Clarke, who told him that there was a terrible noise about the business between her and Colonel French, and that the Duke of York was very angry at the circumstance; that he had seen Mrs Clarke on the 6th of January; that soon after dinner two gentlemen came in, upon which they entered upon the subject of Colonel French's levy; that the evening was spent convivially, and he had left the gentlemen drinking at 12 o'clock. Mrs Clarke told him that one of the gentlemen was Mr Mellish, the Member of Parliament. He did not know the name of the other. On the 15th he saw Mrs Clarke; there was present a person who, Mrs Clarke said, was a writer in a newspaper, but he had forgot the name of this person and paper. The witness was ordered to withdraw. Mr Mellish, who had entered the House since his name was mentioned by the witness, rose to express a hope that some Honour, able Gentleman would put a question to him on the subject.-Mr. Wardle asked June 1809.

him, whether he had met with Mr Corri at Mrs Clarke's on the 6th or 15th January last? Mr Mellish declared, that he had never been in Mrs Clarke's house in his life, and had never seen her till she appeared at the bar of the house. Mr Corri was again called, and asked to say whether Mr Mellish was the man he had seen? He said no, and observed, that in calling the gentleman Mr Mellish, he had merely repeated what had been told him by Mrs Clarke.

Upon being asked about the third person, the newspaper man, Mr Corri said he was of a sallow complexion, had a high forehead, and was rather ugly; his hair was dark; he was badly dressed; by no means elegant in his s eech. He was asked, if his name was Finnerty? but could not say.

Mr Dowler was next examined, and stated he had known Mrs Clarke between eight and nine years. Did the witness recollect having seen Captain Sanden and Colonel French at Mrs Clarke's? He an swered in the affirmative, saying these officers had spoken to Mrs Clarke respecting a levy they proposed to raise. The witness said he had frequently spoken to these gentlemen by Mrs Clarke's desire, and had often seen Colonel French at her house in Gloucester Place. He said he used all his eloquence to dissuade Mrs Clarke from embarking in so hazardous an enterprize, but without effect. When he next saw Col. French, that officer told him he had given Mrs Clarke a thousand guineas to procure him the Duke of York's sanction for the intended levy. Colonel French said, it was highly important to procure men, but if he could not procure them, he should enlist growing lads and boys, and thus complete his levy. He also said, that the principal part of his levy had been raised in Ireland, and that he should have much difficulty in passing them in the Isle of Wight.-He therefore remonstrated with Mrs Clarke, and the witness pressed her not to do any more, or farther to interfere with Colonel French's levy. To this she replied, that the Duke of York was so distressed for money, that she could not, nor would not desist. He was asked what feeling had impelled him so to remonstrate with Mrs Clarke. He replied, that it was a species of gratitude, Mrs Clarke having provided for the witness a situation in the commissariat