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With crows and buzzards in thy suite ;
Contagion spread through ev'ry street,
For men, though taught thy power to fear
Sit still, neglecting common care;
Till urg'd, by thy destroying sword,
No care can safety then afford.

Ah stay, frail mortal! stay thy hand!

Would'st thou "deal judgments round the land?”

If heaven such evils doth permit,

For thee to sentence is it fit?

But cease, vain bard, thy useless lay;
Did not I hear Mephitis say:
"Amphion,* once, by sound of lyre
A city built, 'tis said, entire ;
The trees came running at his call,
And stones hopt pat, upon the wall;
But never yet that bard was seen,
Whose song could keep a city clean.
Should bards their powers all combine,
My kingdom they shall ne'er confine;
Whose vast extension doth embrace,
Three fourths of atmospheric space,
Diffus'd, or fix'd, I'm also found,
In depths of sea, and solid ground.
When plac'd in me, devouring fire,
In silence quickly shall expire;
And suddenly I doom to death,
All creatures that inhale my breath.
Great cities to my sov'reign sway,
Like eastern tribes, dread homage pay,
Nor where in noisome damps I reign,
Do they presume my floods to drain?”

FOR THE PORT FOLIO.

The following lines appeared, two or three years since, in a little village newspaper in New-England, but have probably met the eye of few readers of the Port Folio.

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We still had loved the heart that virtue warms,
Nor mourn'd the absence of external charms.

When Beauty strikes our ravished eyes,
And Reason seems no longer free;

When all the powers of sense arise
In wildering mutiny,

"Tis Fancy then exerts her witching power.
A triumph, but the triumph of an hour.

When intellectual graces shine,
Though in the plainest person drest,
When Virtue, Truth, and Sweetness join
T'enrich the female breast,

Though Fancy frown, our better thoughts approve,
And Reason's suasive voice confirms our love.

But when to each external grace,
True excellence of heart is joined;
When in the sweet expressive face
We read the lovelier mind,
Each social passion kindles as we gaze,
Till stoic souls " grow wanton in their praise."

No borrowed graces dress the smile
Which Nature bade Eliza wear.
The artful glance, the studied wile

Are more than strangers there.

She fascinates by native charms alone,

And Art might blush to see herself outdone.

Soft, mantling o'er her cheek, is seen

The vermil tint of Modesty ;

While the pure soul that reigns within
Speaks in her melting eye.

Why was so sweet a spirit sent below,
And made to animate an angel too!

Sweet maid forgive the artless lay;

Sincerity may plead desert.

Then let the passing stranger pay
The "tribute of the heart."

The honest sigh should never meet disdain,

Nor Friendship's blessing e'er be breathed in vain.

May Heaven its choicest gifts bestow,
Nor leave you, lovely maid, to prove

The loss of happiness below,

Till called to bliss above.

Live blest, the child of Heaven's distinguished care,
And kindly hope to meet your stranger there.

Felix qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas,
Atque metus omnes et inexorabile Fatum

Subjecit pedibus, strepitumque Acherontis avari.-Vir.

Happy the man whose active mind can trace
Each tortuous path through Nature's wildering maze,
Whose stedfast soul the stroke of Fate can brave,
Can smile on Death and triumph o'er the grave.

W.

IRONY.

WHEN a stranger enters a public room, whisper to your friends in order to know who he is, and where he came from, with your eyes fixed full in his face. Such behaviour, well applied, will raise a blush even on the cheeks of a brazier.

Rush into your friend's room, without giving the smallest previous notice, exclaiming, D—n it, Jack, how goes it. Here am I as fresh as a four year old, &c.

Good breeding and ceremony may be carried on with the happiest effect in every class of society; for instance, in a gentleman's family, the cook, with the greatest politeness, acquaints the neighbouring butcher, that himself and a friend or two intend doing themselves the honour, in a few days of calling to crack a marrow-bone with him. The kitchen-maid informs the baker's journeyman, that she shall be at home from six till nine in the evening, but before that time it will be impossible for her to see company. The coachman may give a most gracious invitation to the stable-keeper, telling him that he shall expect to see him at a pity soopay he intends to give his friends; but that he will give him a few day's notice, so that business may not prevent him from having the pleasure of his company.

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It is pleasant to hear a man who, by mere chance, has amassed together a considerable sum of money, talk of the dignity of his family, together with wonderful relations of most marvellous circumstances which happened during his progress through life. Like the Irishman who, happening to arrive in England on a rejoicing day, always felt a pride in informing his companions that the bells rang all the way from his landing at Chester to his arrival in London.

On the other hand, it is equally entertaining to hear a man of present prosperity boast of his former poverty, particularly to a friend, who, for obvious reasons, would rather dispense with such observations as, Ah Jack! times are changed for the better since you and I tramped up to Lunnon town with four-pence halfpenny between us. You remember nicking the old woman at Highgate out of a pot of porter, I dares to say; but never mind, my hearty, we have got hold of the shiners now, and let's keep them; nothing like scraping and raking; every little makes a mickle, as little Joe Thompson used to say.

If you have any desire to shine in politics, particularly if you should have any trifling place in any office under government, assume a proper pomposity, and carefully observe two rules that will always carry you through with eclat. The first is, if you receive information from a stranger of the earliest intelligence of the day, pay no attention to his communication, informing him that you received the intelligence at least a fortnight prior to his detail of the events, from one of your nu*merous continental correspondents. On the contrary, if he ask you for political intelligence, put on a grave privy-council face, and observe that things of that serious nature are not to be drawn from you on every trifling occasion; but give broad hints that you are in possession of very extraordinary intelligence though you do not think proper to divulge it.

THE LAUGHING WOrld.

Philadelphia, it is said, is most potent in punning; and, indeed, many of our wags are not much inferior to Swift or Sheridan in this minor species of wit. Some arch jester, in a letter addressed to one of the London magazines, has indulged himself in a strain of what he calls classical quibbles. This idle play of words will cause the good-natured reader either to laugh at, or laugh with, our author; and if innocent mirth be the result of his labour, who shall say that the witling has been absurdly employed.-Editor.

I AM not one of those, who in conversation smother common sense under a pillow-case of old puns. No, sir, I scorn to walk in such a broken track to the temple of Fame. But I must own, that, having fre

quently observed the fat sides and double chins of reverend divines shake with convulsive merriment at stale jokes, merely because Terence happened to be the gentleman usher who introduced them, I have lately aimed to distinguish myself by classical quibbles. My success has been highly flattering, and I shall now proceed to relate the occasions that gave them birth, giving you, at the same time, to understand that I have a large store bottled up for future use.

Quæ mox depromere possim.

If ever I attempt to see the young Roscius again, said my friend Brittle, in a rage, strait-waistcoat me.-What! to be jammed and knocked about, and, after all, kicked out in a state of high perspiration, on a damp night, without seeing him. Alas! answered I, it even fared thus with the son of Anchises:

Et jam nox humida cœlo
Precipitat.

The umbrella you lent us last night, said the two Miss Simpers, with a courtesy, was a most opportune favour. Ay, said I,

Tu Tityre lent-us in umbra.

Really, sir, said alderman Thickscull to me at the dinner given to the Spanish patriots, the night riots in London are abominable. A fellow last night, in St. Paul's church yard, struck me a horrid blow on the belly with a cane. Indeed! answered I, Virgil seems to have anticipated that assault :

Horrida bella cano

The same worthy personage harrangued the company on the virtues of a deceased premier, observing, in the course of his oration, "he was indeed a moral character. No man ever saw Pitt running after all the harlots in town." No, cried I, echoing his eulogium,

Nemo omnibus horis saw-pit.

I called last Wednesday on a gentleman who had just received a present of a quail, and who was balancing in his mind whether he should send it to his two sisters at Doncaster. Do so, said I, and folOvid's advice,

Qualem decet esse sororum.

The anecdote of the quail reminds me of more of the feathered tribe. A very worthy lady expressed her doubts to me whether ducks were fit food for females. Ay, said I, for queens. Dido eat ducks.

Speluncam Dido dux et Trojanus.

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