Dost strain thy little heaving breast, Why dost thou wander still alone,

un

Wakeful, while other songsters rest? Oft have I linger'd in the grove, Charm'd with thy soothing, melting song:

It told, or seem'd to tell of Love,

Nor was the night, though darksome, long.

Yet, oh! sweet bird, why shun the light? Why warble still the lonesome lay? Those notes, that smooth the brow of night,

Might wake the genial smile of day.
Thus have I cried, but cried in vain :
And still the songstress of the grove
Warbled her unambitious strain,

As though her only care was Love.
But though she shun'd my wistful sight,
So softly, sweetly would she sing,
I deem her not the bird of night,
But hail the poet of the spring.

THE SAILOR.

The Scene, ScOTLAND.

By George Dyer.

MY dame, you view a sailor brave;

And he must haste to plough the

sea,

Must quickly leave, for ocean's wave,

The rippling burn, and whispering tree. The blackbird calls; the sky-larks ring

Shrill carols thro' the heav'ns so clear; Nature's full chorus seems to sing,

"Still, happy sailor, linger here." But, dame, you view a sailor brave; And he must plough the boist'rous

wave.

Yon dainty palace charms my eye,

And Avon's waters sweetly glide, Fair Bircleugh's flowery terrace nigh, Hast'ning to meet the bonny Clyde: Ah! pleasing scene !-in rapt'rous mood, How near thy braes I still could stray! How range yon deep romantic wood, And talk of love the live-long day. But, dame, &c.

*The Duke of Hamilton's, at Hamilton.

As dew-drop, Peggy's eye is bright,
Your Peggy's cheek as lily fair,
Her feet, as hare's, move soft and light,
Her voice, like blackbird's, loud and
clear.

And she can soften every heart,

When fond she sings her "Highland laddie ;"

So quickly, dame, must I depart, And keep my heart still tight and steady.

But, dame, &c.

And those manners were affable, open, inviting,

The offspring of kindness, the strangers

to art.

But Consumption's pale hand, with a touch cold and pining,

Has wasted those charms on a strange distant shore ;

The lily was wither'd,-and wan, and declining,

It bow'd its sweet head, and never rose

more.

Then, though green are thy hills, and thy vallies though smiling,

And romantic thy rocks that recline o'er the sea,

These beauties, gay village, to others beguiling,

Can only be tasted with sadness by me.
A SUBSCRIBER.

SONNET TO NIGHT.

SACRED to contemplation, welcome Night,

I hail thy secret shade, and sober scene, As often, by the planet's dubious light,

I linger near the river's bed serene : Or view from yonder hollow rifted oak, Minerva's favorite, take her lonely flight, She shuns the busy city's noise, and smoke, And cautious keeps the coppice in her sight; Then the sweet nightingale, harmonious bird,

Strains her soft throat in warbling out her lay,

Aud there I'll murmur forth my plaints unheard,

Till with the echo too they die away. Hail, friendly Night, thy awful, solemn reign,

Shall bid my weary soul her wonted peace regain. Catherine T.

Go, hasten on the lazy-footed hours; To fond expectant lovers constant prove, And strew their paths with ever-blooming flowers.

Go, for the traveller, gild the wintry sky, To light his footsteps through the dreary road,

Wipe off the tear of sorrow from his eye, And shew his shivering limbs a warm abode.

Go, soothe the ocean, when the billows roar, Nor ever let the sailor's courage strand, Waft him through tempests to his native shore,

And promise all the blessings of the land.

maid!

Whose soul pathetic pours
The plaintive verse to sooth our pain

In sorrow's bitter hours.

May fell disease, with breath malign,
Ne'er blast thy form divine,
But health thy guardian angel prove,
And blessings round thee twine.

Long may thy pencil's art pourtray
Each interesting scene;
The mountain forest's wild array,
The gay enamell'd plain.

And eke thy tuneful fingers touch
From Music's chords that flow,
Elicit dulcet tones, to charm

Your Friends, and cheer their woe.
And may you still despise the wretch
Whose rigid nerves ne'er feel
Another's woe,-adown whose cheek
The dew drops never steal;
Likewise the man of iron heart

By harmony unmov'd,
Whose haggard eye no pictur'd scene
Hath ever yet approv'd.

He's prone to whet th' assassin's knife,
Or drug the social bowl;
Those deeds of damned, blackest dye,
Are natives of his soul.

LONDON. A POEM. (Continued from p. 536.) NOW on yon gaudy gew-gaw counter

gaze, Where the robust man-milliner displays His tippets, cloaks, pelisses, lace and lawns, Graceful he bows, and like a spaniel fawns, Hands down his best imperial bombazeens, His matchless ginghams, and his peerless jeans:

How prettily he simpers "Mam," or "Miss,"

"Pray condescend to cast an eye on this; "An article well worthy of inspection,

Just fitting for your ladyship's com-
plexion,"

For skill'd is he in every wyle to please
Each weaker vessel with becoming ease,
Nor better Paris-tutor'd Madamoiselle,
Put to her shifts, a prettier tale can tell

Now tune thy lyre, my muse, to solemn base,

And stroak thy grave, thy Cameronian face,

And all thy fraught of firkin'd fun unship, And droop thy wing, and hang thy nether lip.

For here's the mansion, sorrow's sable

Of sable gentlemen assembled here, Bewail a father fond, or uncle dear. "Why no-the honest alderman was neither

"Our cousin, uncle, brother, doating father,

"Nor distant relative, but next door neigh bour,

"Upright, benevolent, sedate and sober, "Who in fat plenty's larder long was nourish'd,

"And like a stately Leb'non cedar flou rish'd,

"'Mongst ortolans and turbot, till the paws

"Of giant death padlock'd his civic jaws, "And sent him home bag-bursten from

If in this vale I've honourably serv'd, My measur'd days and the rich boon deserv'd,

Bedew the turf that haps my lowly cell, With genuine grief of those who knew thee well,

And fan the flowers that o'er my bosom rise,

With zeph'ry bennisons of unaffected sighs. But if the worthless shoals of insect fry, "Who eat and drink, and sleep, and wake, and die,"

Can kindred claim-then garnish my poor bier,

Unworthy of a tributary tear,

With nodding plumes, and all the proud parade,

Of mourners, mates, and fun'ral cavalcade.

And when, like one of nature's wasters †, thrown,

Beneath the richly carv'd sepulchral

EAST INDIES.

MARQUIS CORNWALLIS.

BOMBAY, Nov. 30. 1805. PROCEEDINGS of a very numerous and respectable Meeting of the British Inhabitants of Bombay, held in the Court-house, on Wednesday the 27th instant, in consequence of a requisition to the Sheriff "For the purpose of expressing, collectively, their deep and heartfelt sorrow on the heavy national loss sustained by the death of Marquis Cornwallis, and of deliberating on the best mode of paying a durable tribute of grateful respect to the memory of his exalted character."

A twelve o'clock, the Shay, wipe ed the proceedings of with an

appropriate address.

Mr Money proposed, that Sir James Macintosh should take the Chair; which was unanimously agreed to.

The Chairman then read a letter to the Hon. the Governor, from Mr Speke, Chairman of a meeting of the inhabitants of Calcutta, for the purpose of considering the most proper means of expressing the deep concern felt by that settlement, on the lamented death of Marquis Cornwallis; and of testifying by a lasting memorial, the grateful sense entertained of the exalted virtues of that revered Nobleman. Mr Speke's letter enclosed the resolutions of that respectable meeting, of which the following are the two first, as relating to the subject of deliberation :

1st." That in addition to the general mourning which has been adopted, as a public token of the concern felt by this settlement, on the death of Marquis Cornwallis, a mausoleum be erected, with the permission of Government, over the place of his interment at Ghazepore, as a memo. rial of esteem and reverence for his virtues, and of gratitude for his eminent services

2d That the foregoing resolution be transmitted to Madras and Bombay, as well as to Ceylon, Penang, and Fort Marlbo rough; and that the inhabitants of those settlements be invited to join in an unanimous testimonial of veneration for the character and memory of the late Governor General of the British possessions in India."

Mr Money then rose, and addressed the Meeting as follows:-

Dec. 1806.

Mr Chairman-" With far different feelings from those which prompted and encouraged me to address this respectable assembly on a recent and happier occasion, I now present myself to your notice. Then with an elated and exulting heart, I proposed that we should hail with our gratulations the return of a man, to whom I thought my country indebted for a considerable portion of her fame and glory, of her character for justice and valour;-and for that noble spirit of patriotism which distinguishes her among the nations of Europe. Now, oppressed by sensations of unaffected sorrow, in concurrence with the spirit

ich dictated our former resolutions, and,

may judge from the mournful aspect of

this meeting, in unison with the public seti

timent, 1 endeavour to discharge my individual duty, by submitting, for our consis deration, the obligations imposed upon us, by regard for all that is great and good, to express, in a solemn declaration, the universal grief of the British Inhabitants of Bombay and its Dependencies, for the very heavy national calamity which has been sustained; and to complete the consistency of that declaration, by co operating with our fellow countrymen on the other side of the Peninsula, in raising a sepulchral monument, and erecting for ourselves and successors here, a durable tribute of respect and veneration for the memory of departed excellence.

"It has been the practice of all ages, in various forms, directed by the taste or genius of the period or country in which the object of commemoration may have lived, to raise the monumental pile, as a memorial to posterity of a Nation's gratitude for the services of him who, by upholding its power, extending its dominion, and promoting its prosperity, has continued its pride, its ornament, and its boast. It is sufficient, however, to state, that such has been the usage, and continues to be the practice in our own free and enlightened land, where honours never fail to reward the atchievements of the living hero, nor to console the relatives of the dead But, from higher motives still, although none can be more pure or laudable, than those of remunerating the, man who risks his life in the cause of his country, or of ministering solace to the sacred sorrows of friends, who have most deeply to lament his loss,-from higher mo

tives

tives have arisen the cenotaph, the pillar, and the statue. They may be traced to the noble ambition of exciting the rising and future generations to an emulation of the deeds and glory of the past. They may be traced to a national and exalted pride of exhibiting monuments of national renown. Such were the motives, conjunctively with the generous impulse of gratitude, which raised the far famed palace of Blenheim, and erected the sculptured monuments of a Wolfe, and a Chatham; and these, combined with the liberal and enlightened policy of perpetuating among the natives of British India, a grateful recollection of the superior blessings enjoyed under a British ruler, conveyed to our sister settlements, statues of the illustrious patriot, whose death we have now to deplore. I wish not to amplify, nor unnecessarily engage your attention; but I feel that I should be wanting in respect, if, on this occasion, I omitted some notice of the most important and prominent features of a life, which was always dedicated to the service of our country.

"We all know, that the Noble Lord, at an early age, embraced the military profession; and that, in his progress to superior rank, he actively participated in many of the glorious scenes which characterised the brilliant war, immediately preceding the reign of our present Sovereign. At the commencement of the unhappy troubles in America, his conduct, as a Peer of Parliament, was dignified and independent; it was such as became an hereditary Counsel lor of the King of a free nation; it was such as must necessarily be expected to result from a mind nurtured and matured in the best principles of rational and constitutional liberty. But, when his regiment was ordered on service, he knew his duty as a soldier too well, to hesitate for a moment; and resisted the tender importunities of the dearest object of his affections, to whom he was attached by every tie, with which virtue, in the loveliest form, could bind the heart of man, and who, adoring the rare excellencies of her accomplished Lord, carried her soli citations to the throne itself. Resisting all entreaties, he crossed the Atlantic, and sacrificed for ever his conjugal and domestic happiness, to the service of his country. His conduct in America, in circumstances and situations the most arduous and critical, obtained for him the most unqualified approbation of his King, the personal affection of the army which he commanded, and the highest respect of the enemy whom he fought. In that painful and affecting struggle, he discharged all that he owed to his country, while he never lost sight of what he owed to humanity. In the course of a

arms

brilliant career, his triumphs in wreathed laurels round his brow: but the still nobler triumphs of humanity, in parental kindness to his soldiers, and compassionate tenderness to his captives, enriched the garland with a gem, which no subsequent reverses ever could eclipse.

"Until the unfortunate capitulation of York Town, where his defence corresponded with the high character he had acquired, success had uniformly attended his march to fame; but I appeal to every military man who hears me, if that disastrous surrender was ever considered to have cast the slightest blot on his honourable escutcheon? or to have detracted, in the least degree, from his professional reputation? if it were not the result of causes which he could neither check nor controul? if he were not encouraged, nay, almost com manded, to hold out in that untenable post, until reasonable succours, with fleet and army, should be sent to his relief?

"The next great public theatre upon which the Noble Lord acted a distinguished part, was the theatre of India. To call to the recollection of this assembly, the important services which, in this quarter of the globe, he rendered to the State and to the East India Company, would be presumptuous and superfluous. They must live fresh in the memory of us all, as long as a remembrance of his undeviating integrity and justice is preserved and cherished in the hearts of every rational Indian, who enjoyed what he possessed in security, or reaped the fruits of honest industry, under his mild and equitable sway Upon his return to his native land, finding his country in arms, in defence of the peace and order of the civilized world, and in vindication of its own honour and independence, disdaining inglorious ease, he courted profes sional employment, amidst the toils and perils of war, and repaired to the Continent, to take upon himself the command of a combined British and Prussian army: but the unprincipled defection of the power on whom we principally relied, rendered the plan abortive, and his zeal and talents of no avail.

Having discharged the duties of Master-General of the Ordnance, with uncommon vigour and assiduity, and improved that department (of vital consequence to the State in war) to the highest perfection, he was appointed, at a most critical and perilous juncture, the representative of his Sovereign in Ireland, where, by his temperate firmness, and conciliating disposition, he succeeded, to a great degree, in allaying the animosities, and composing the dissensions, which convulsed every part of that distracted kingdom'; and, by his prudence,

fortitude,